There's no place like home.
I'm in a depressing (but warm) motel in Elk City, Oklahoma which is located nearby my constant companion of this past week: I-40.
Happy damn New Year.
Actually, there is total depression all around me. This is because of a certain, widely-watched TV program, which is almost over now, better known as the National Championship of college football. This television-broadcast is showing the much beloved local-team getting the total beJesus kicked out of it.
There's not much to do here, that's for sure. I can't wait to get home. I miss Lorraine and have already called her three or four times today. I've also gone over the TravelLodge-edition tourist-pamphlet a couple of times, which informs me of my fantastic opportunity to visit The Washita Battlefield Site where Custer massacred a bunch of Cheyenne Indians 130+ years ago. Great...Elk City rules. I figured I'd kill some time and get some bounty out of their fabulous snack-machine instead.
And, the mood was not good by the Snack/Ice-Machines either: A couple of Okie-truckers (now there's a "team" for ya) were going on and on about the game while their wives (or a couple prostitutes, I couldn't tell which) filled their ice-buckets proudly displaying the Elk City TravelLodge logo. These guys were clearly not happy about their Sooners losing to "a bunch of L.A. pretty boys."
"It's not like a tsunami or anything fellas," I politely offered.
The tall one spit. "Yeah it is pardner, it's like one big soo-nam-ee, (nam spoken like Sam) and I'll tell ya what: them soo-nam-ee people over there... (I loved that) ...once again is dependin' on the long-generous-arm of America." They all snickered like a bunch of idiots.
"Wait a minute," I said, "they're only gettin' 35-million-bucks from us, and that's a whole lotta nothin' if you ask me."
"Try three-hunert-fiddy million buddy," the shorter one sneered as my bag of Funyuns dropped with a thud into the vending-payoff-bin. "Yeah, ya betta add a zee-ro to that fig-yur a yours," the tall guy cracked. The wives/prostitutes laughed as they all left. It all kinda reminded me of sick high-school stuff.
I went back in and did a little internet-research and calculating: turns out our "generous" $350 million offering to help save the rest of the unfortunate world equals what it costs us to to wage war in Iraq for 42.27 hours. Ok...I'll round it up - the same amount of money we pay for two-days worth of war in Iraq. Welcome world saviors.
I'll sleep and then drive.
Besides, what good are red-states if they can't even play football?
See y'all soon.
-Tom
4 comments:
redstates are always good for their apelike thinking that seems to spread to those other redstates around them. they have slipped in their football prowess, look at nebraska. do you have to drive through there too? im sorry
come home Tom!! arrgh...the vast horribleness of the midwest!
Run! RUN! ...or drive! DRIVE!
your pal,
Tocs.
I road the road to heaven man. I rode the road to my brain. Changing colors. Girls that liked me. A haze of fog dug it's yellow lines in my mind man. I drive, there for I exist man. I have to make it. I have to get there man.
I know that road conversation! thanks buddy
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