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Monday, February 12, 2007

Fuck Nascar? Why stop there?

I'll keep this short and sweet. I am by any definition, a half-assed elitist. I reside in a town that is mercifully devoid of any poor people whatsoever and I cringe at every attempt to import them by some shithead's vision of "mixed income" utopia. Half the cars in my neigborhood run on semi-reclaimed peat. God Bless them, If I could afford a new car Id probably buy one for the sole value of feeling better than everybody else. I have over 200 credits from a large state university and the only one who calls me "Dr." is the guy who works at a parking structure downtown. I read every issue of The Economist cover to cover and laugh condescendingly when I see a co-worker ( by the way I believe Im at least 60 times smarter than my nearest competition among that group) looking at When I think of the part of the country that is pretty much south of I-80 I feel so tremendously opressed I can feel my blood pressure rising. I HATE pretty much everything America represents, and I often daydream about moving to Amsterdam and renouncing my US citizenship (ladies and gentlemen, our first FBI flag!). But while Im here, where I'll be forever I imagine, Im not gonna cheat myself out of one iota of the crapulence that somebody crossed the sesquahana for. No sir, aint not one whiff of CO2, not one drop of Bud Light, not one ogle of a silicone-enhanced breast Im gonna let pass my way. If you're lookin for me I'll be diving headfirst into the playboy-mansion pool of putrescence. And you aint gonna stop me.

If you have to ask, you'll never know.

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