Swaggering morons who boast “The South will rise again” would do well to familiarize themselves with how well it went for The South the last time they decided to rise. Here’s a hint: that fourteen-year period called Reconstruction was called that for a reason.
The Civil War ended in 1865 and there are STILL parts of the South that have never financially recovered. The war devastated the South. It was awful there. And yet there are people from the very areas hit hardest who would, out of ignorant, arrogant, prideful stupidity, subject themselves and their loved ones to that again. For nothing. For the illusion of independence and their own warped, cartoonish idea of “how it used to be.” Well, it used to suck. Badly. It used to be so fucking terrible that the North started rebuilding the South in 1863, TWO FUCKING YEARS BEFORE THE WAR ENDED. So many Southerners were starving and destitute that the North was fighting in parts of the South and supplying food, shelter and medicine in other parts to the very people trying to kill them. That’s how bad off it was for the South. It blew. People seem to somehow forget that.
So the next time you’re feeling like a big bad ass because you’re flying your Confederate flag and displaying those precious little bumper stickers on your pickup, ask yourself, do you really want to do that again? Because it didn’t work out so well for you the last time.
Bought a vintage, unopened pack of Close Encounters Of The Third Kind trading cards yesterday, and there’s a stick of bubble gum in there from 1978. I know chewing it is a really, really bad idea. And I also know that I’m really, really never going to forgive myself if I don’t.
I just HAVE to know…
Oh, sweet fucking Jesus…
It turns out, shockingly, that spending 36 years unrefrigerated and loosely wrapped in cheap wax paper doesn’t stop gum from turning brown. I took a bite off the “unspoiled” end. It was like biting into a plastic ruler. There was no flavor at first, but when I tried to chew, it crumbled and dissolved in my mouth, leaving behind a flavor that was EXACTLY like the overwhelming musty, mouldered smell inside an abandoned building. And it won’t go away. I immediately regret this decision.
It’s SO bad…
My mouth tastes like an abandoned schoolhouse. With a very leaky roof. I did this because I was curious to know how well gum could hold up after 36 years pressed against wax paper and cheaply printed card stock. The answer is “not well.” Not too goddamned well at all.
It’s just so bad. Like a communion wafer made out of compressed bread mold and mummy dust. And plaster. I swear, this is what evil tastes like.
You know what’s awesome about Chillicothe, OH? Trick question. There is nothing awesome about Chillicothe, OH.
I found a great looking comics and gaming store online called Wildpyre, which promises either out of control fire or vampires. But when I got there it had been replaced by a cupboard store. Fucking cupboards. Who the hell ever heard of a store that sells NOTHING but cupboards?
“Hi, I came here to read thrilling tales about an orphaned alien who was rocketed to a distant planet and was adopted by kindly natives and became that planet’s greatest champion of hope and righteousness. Or perhaps the tale of a child who survived his parents’ murder and forswore his life of riches and luxury and instead dedicated himself to mastering the terror and brutality that robbed him of his childhood and turning those things on those who would harm others. Do you have anything like that?” “No, sir, but I can offer you one of our many pastel colored cupboards. ‘Cause guess what we sell? Cupboards.”
2022 Update: I was curious about Wildpyre Comics Cards & Games, so I googled it. I got Wildpyre’s old address, and it seems the place is cursed. The cupboard store is long gone; I can’t even find its name. Sometime later Big Al’s Pizza opened and closed forever. The latest to go in and go under was an antique store called Down Home Treasures. I can only assume more business have been destroyed than these. Investors beware: here there be dragons.