Note: This post was inspired by Ubie's picture of some ugly clock.

People love shit. They go seriously gaga over steaming piles of excrement. During my brief (but not brief enough) trip to Tennessee, I saw some crap that made me want to move to a commune and live with stinking hippies. In Pigeon Forge, the place where cool goes to die, they have several "Dinner shows" usually involving a buffet and country music. One such show, billed as "The Longest Running Show in the Smokies" promised...are you ready for this...Country Gospel and Clogging. They must have done market research to determine the show I would least like to see. The only way it'd be worse would be if the cloggers wore University of Kentucky uniforms and kicked me in the nuts with their wooden shoes. But these places were packed every night, full to bursting with easily amused velveeta-eating simpletons.

I'm not a cultured person, and not because I'm from the upper south/lower midwest. Louisville has a symphony orchestra, an opera company, and a Center for the Arts. I loathe opera, I've never set foot inside the Center, and every time I heard the Louisville Orchestra they were accompanying a fireworks display. I'd rather eat a good pizza and drink microbrewed beer. But at least I don't have a velvet painting depicting George W. Bush, Jesus, and the guy who played "Cooter" on Dukes of Hazard harassing a pregnant teenager outside an abortion clinic. I don't schedule social engagements around airings of "Yes, Dear". I don't have all of the Nascar decorative plates, for the love of Cletus.

Speaking of Nascar, back when Dale Earnhardt was killed, I saw some idiot wearing a t-shirt which read God Must Have Needed a Driver. First of all, I'd like to think God has the good sense to not choose a driver who died while driving; and why bring God into it at all? I know some people really liked Dale Earnhardt, but when Kurt Cobain blew his head off, I didn't run out and buy God Must Have Needed a Heroin Addict t-shirts.

Every year our local newspaper, The Review Journal, which is put together by seals who've been trained to type, publishes a Reader's Choice awards for restaurants. Every year Pizza Hut wins "Best Pizza", as voted by the braindead inhabitants of my adopted city. PIZZA CUNT, I say! If your dog had thumbs he could throw together a better tasting pie. Olive Garden wins "Best Italian". Frank and Dean are rolling in their respective graves at the very notion. Oh, and Taco Bell wins "Best Mexican". Do you know how many Latinos live in this city? Obviously, they don't vote in this poll.

People like to collect shite. When I worked at Organized Living a man asked me for a container to house his sombrero collection. I gave him several shopping bags and sent him on his way. And now I send you on your way. Have a great weekend.