You know, I already disliked the Midwest. Then a cleaning lady got shot to death in Indiana by some suburbanite hosebag. Adding even more to my inclination not to visit. Which was already below zero. When foreigners talk about the insanity of our gun culture, they're right. Much of the territory between the Oakland Hills and Staten Island is filled with insane hardly literate gun-loving violence freaks.
Kind of a biblical homicide wonderland.
Old Bill wearing his bib overalls on the tractor out doing the back forty. Everyone hopes he dies soon because he's a cheapskate and a mean old bastard, and Buckaroo over there is thinking of sabotaging the station wagon to make sure of that, but Daisy Belle drives it to town regularly to take her chihuahua to doggie play dates, so he's holding off for now.
Every generation in that family are actually Bill's kids. Every single person, all seven generations living in that old farmhouse.
It's been that way for well over a hundred years.
They wrote an X-files episode about that.
This post is, more or less, a delayed reaction to the classmate decades ago, in my first year back in the States, who told me "we shoot people like you where I come from", and the fellow at work (same time period) who said I should go back to wherever the hell I came from.
This morning I woke up feeling sour. This country is populated in a large part by high school bullies, all of them good Christians, and they keep voting for the scunge. Miles and miles of trailer parks, meth labs, and strip malls, where people play video games and go to church every Sunday for the witchburning.
In the afternoon on weekends they watch the game and scream obscenities.
A vast expanse of creatures from the black lagoon.
Monsters in many examples.
They've all got Jesus in their hearts.
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