I'll tell you this: I HATE the East Coast. The easiest way to make me chuckle would be to drop a bomb on Baltimore. The people here would rather eat Boric Acid than say "please" or "thank you." I'm sick of these lowlife dimwits and their endless, ENDLESS cigarettes and their ill-drawn tats and their wifebeater shirts and that look of incomprehension they give me whenever I use words of more than two syllables.
Worse, they simply won't leave me alone. Every single time I venture out of my attic, people I've never met hurl insults at me -- for no reason. True, it has been some years since I was on friendly terms with a mirror, but at least in California, I could leave home and walk around town without being treated like Quasimodo.
The East Coast still feels like a foreign country. Years ago, I spent a few weeks in Canada, and soon felt quite at home there. But this place is...alien. It isn't home. And if the people here won't treat me as a fellow human being, I see no reason to have a differing stance toward them.
Sorry. I'm bitter. Just can't think about politics right now.
Added note: I'm embedding the greatest scene in film history -- the nuclear destruction of Baltimore from the film The Sum of All Fears. The second greatest scene in film history may be found in Silence of the Lambs, when Hannibal Lecter confronts the Senator:
Dr. Lecter: Amputate a man's leg, and he can still feel it tickling. Tell me, mum, when your little girl is on the slab, where will it tickle you?
Senator: Take this thing back to...Baltimore!
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