the scope of geographical diversity our great nation is beholden to is something that makes me tingle when i really start thinking about it. rolling hills, mountains, coasts, deserts - we've got it all. things are entertaining, even inspiring, and then... you hit nebraska. like a forgotten middle child, home-schooled its whole life, looking for a friend, it won't leave your side now that it has you in it's realm. poor thing. so you sit with it for a while, but eventually succumb to sleepiness. you can't keep pretending to be interested with it's stories anymore... this is where i peacefully existed until suddenly i awoke to an ominous thud. my eyes open just in time to see the facial expression of a bird that has hit the windshield. in what seemed like slow motion, the carcass slid off only to second the thud as it ricocheted off our roof storage compartment. great. as if i didn't feel bad enough about my impact on nature and the environment. good thing we "offset" our road trip's carbon emissions by purchasing carbon neutral credits: the equivalent to a catholic's ability to by indulgences for inevitable sins. (we payed for our eco-sins via the carbon fund)
suddenly feeling wide awake and sufficiently icky, i return my gaze to the unchanging landscape and realize middle america is like a land before time: its dinosaurs are giant billboards that read: "porn kills - jesus saves! " "support our troops! " this gets one thinking: if porn kills, then what are the hell are the troops doing? i get annoyed. really nebraska, who asked you? but at least we aren't driving through missouri this time. those billboards of giant aborted alien-esqu fetuses really get to me.