Monday, February 17, 2025

DON'T SAY GRACE

The great thing about the arid zone is that it insulates us from the chuckleheads in the Midwest, and South. Some of whom I actually like, but keep in mind that I assiduously curate my social circles, and had cut "good Christians" (bigots and morons) entirely out years ago. To the best of my knowledge there are no Alabamans, Floridans, Georgians, Ozarkians, or folks from Mississippi and Tennessee among my friends, although there are one or two Carolinians connected with the tobacco trade, some Midwesterners, an ex-Georgian who used to be a reference-librarian, as well as a Texan from Marin-county, who is actually remarkably sane despite being entirely out of touch with reality.

[Also, very few people employed by the Federal Government. Although one person whom I did not see yesterday is, and I'm wondering if he still has a job. None of my relatives, with whom I keep in occasional contact, is federal.]


From the Central Valley eastward, it's nearly two thousand miles to Home Simpson territory. It's about four dollars a gallon for gas. And there are mountains.

Actually, that also insulates them from me. I'd dump Sriracha chilisauce into the grits and chuck the Chicago deep-dish pizza onto the compost heap.
From Kari Lake to the Cumberland Gap it's almost nothing but inbreds, mental defectives, religious types, and illiterates. With a considerable overlap.

In parts of the country, sexually transmitted diseases are often a family affair.
Besides measles, fungal infections, and tuberculosis.

Their fat little heads sit on their fat little bodies without a bit of connection.

Their food is awful, they talk funny there, and there are pick-up trucks on cinderblocks in the driveway. Except Mississippi, where they can't afford cinderblocks, so they stole milk crates from the local Piggly Wiggly.



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