Call Me A Pig Fucker if You Must—I'll Wear That Badge Proudly

These great United States are a federation of a disparate, rag-tag band of entities, on a frontier mission trying to stick it to the man. No, wait, that's that TV show Firefly. No, these United States are a bunch of loosely-affiliated gay-bashing conservative fucks who elect idiots and have a penchant for war-mongering fascism. I hate it when I make mistakes like that.

But while I'm up on my soapbox, I've been thinking about Nationalism and Regional Identity because I had a dream about my old room-mate Jason the other night (he was the one before Mutt Lange, the Def Leppard producer, and definitely before the Webelo). See, Cooter has a thing about Missouri, and Hippo Butt has a thing for Nebraska.

I was only trying to point out that it's funny how nearly everyone you meet from California is mentally retarded. It's like how people on either coast are mildly surprised to find that nearly everyone in or from Iowa fucks pigs, or has fucked them occasionally, or would if the opportunity presented itself. Whereas we just need to mention Reagan, Schwarzenegger, and the "rock" group Toto for Iowa to come out on top.

Anyway, in California's case I think it's caused by the enzymes in the sprouts they eat on everything. Can't be good for you. As far as Iowa goes, I think it's the size of the hogs' balls. At least in my case.