Dispatches From The Foreign Nation of Texas

This will undoubtedly encompass a long sequence of posts, narcissistic though they may be – and unfortunately tainted by my current novel of choice (Infinite Jest), which tends to have a lot of run-on sentences, and also forces me to bring my pocket dictionary for clarification on some purposely pedantic language.  Like, for real.

I accidentally on purpose referred to Texas as a nice trip to a foreign nation.  There are a few problems with this, although Texans won’t mind the mistake entirely as Governor Rick Perry has occasionally flirted with seceding from the United States in order to draw attention away from his deplorable term as governor. (Note: He was elected in 2006 with a plurality because two legitimate third-party contenders secured 18 and 12 percent of the vote each.  Third-party candidates are pretty inconceivable, and when two of them secure that many votes, the incumbent is what the political establishment refers to as “weak-sauce”.)

Visitors to Texas agree that the most unfortunate thing about Texas is it’s geography.  No, not climatologically-speaking, or even meteorological.  I don’t  mean politically or socio-economically.  As a matter of fact, I am specifically referring to the unpleasant situation of Texas’ borders.  These beautiful vistas, landscapes and architecture, and the state’s gorgeous universities and rich historical tradition are trapped within the borders of Texas. A nation – oh, there I go again! – that elected Rick Perry, trail blazed the open carry law, created the intellectual impetus for Arizona’s state law on carrying your papers – ver are yor paperz!?  – sparked thousands of filibusters into illegal military action, etcetera, etc.

I suppose these things are incidental, which is precisely the amount of cluster fuck my mind doesn’t want to comprehend right now.

In summation of this introductory entry: Floridians are low on the totem poll of national embarrassments.  In fact, in the year of our Dog 2000 we were the stately foundation of all national jokes/tragedies.  Even then, though, a national tragedy and our collective shame was bestowed upon the USA by none other than, ta-da, Texas.

"Actually, I mostly grew up on a yacht in Maine." - True Story

So, in trying to rationalize my preconceived notions of Texas (mostly it’s prolifically unlettered populace), I forgot about, and the casual visitor might also have forgotten, about what drew the German and Eastern European rustics out West in the first place.

The right to be really, really, unashamedly racist.

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