I was just back to the Alleghenies

I was back in the Alleghenies for Thanksgiving and some awesome stuff happened. When we first drove into the state, everything got really dark. I had forgotten how the mountains blot out all the light. In the Midwest, you can often see every light for a ten mile radius. I prefer the dark, because I am a sad, sad man.

We stopped in Pittsburgh and I slept in a stranger’s house. They were friends of a friend. A woman and her husband lived there —nice folks, but being a single male in a stranger’s house makes me uncomfortable. I keep on thinking that they suspected me of being a rapist or a molester. Why else would I be a single guy who needed a place to stay? I think there’s something inherently immoral about maleness. I think of it every time I walk past a playground or unattended children on the street. I think, “Everyone suspects I may rape these children.” But I smile to show that I do not rape.

Back home, I napped for three hours as I was exhausted from a 14 hour drive through the three lamest states in the union, the great vowel row: Illinois, Indiana, and Ohio. Iowa is not part of their lameness because I live there.

Later at the bar, my brother got mad at me for calling Glen Beck a douchebag. “So what,” Elliot said. “He’s a douchebag because he cried on television? Because he cares about his country?” No, not at all. Tom Hanks also cares about his country and has cried in movies and on television, but he is not a douchebag. Glen Beck is a douchebage because he acts like a douchebag. Apparently those whom you agree with can never be douchebags. I agree with Keith Olbermann, but still acknowledge he’s a total douche.

Tom Hanks is a great American.

I spent Thanksgiving at my friends place in Williamsport. Everything was fucking magical there. My old man came with and just went batshit over the asparagus they served. I mean he really loved it—at one point he kissed the tips of his fingers like some sort of cartoon Italian person.

After he left, we got plenty hammered at this brewery and wrote offensive messages like “Support Homos,” and, “Offensive Message” on all the sugar packets out on the table.

We danced very drunkenly to Lady Gaga at a lesbian bar called The Planet. I danced alongside my friend Erin and was later called her “retarded shadow.”

It was truly a Thanksgiving I will keep in my heart for ages to come as I share in and enhance the youth of my friends around me, Psalms 100:7.