Fear and Loathing on the PA Turnpike - Random Thoughts

Well, maybe that's an exaggeration, but yesterday evening entailed 5.5 hours of interstate driving with nothing but a vague sense of impending doom, large volumes of coffee, and screaming along to alt/punk/death metal at high volume. Destination: Harrisburg, PA.

The impending doom was a leftover from my days at PSU at State College, when we'd take the turnpike to Somerset and swing north on the way back from home to school. (I started college a few months after my mom's death and went into a crippling depression there - basically stopped attending classes entirely during the spring semester and just stayed locked in my room playing Klondike solitaire on a Mac SE. Dark, dark times, man.)

It occurs to me that listening to The Pixies at anything less than 100 decibels is kind of like having sex with a condom: it's alright when you have to do it that way, but it's not nearly as intense as doing it the way that nature intended. Frank Black's voice was simply never meant to be heard at a civilized volume.

And just for the record, I'd like to thank the asshat from ABF Motor Freight who went into the Tuscarcra tunnel just ahead of me hauling restricted hazmat. Glad you feel qualified to make that decision on my behalf, you toothless inbred fuck! Grrr.

So here I am on company business in the state capitol, which seems a lot like Uniontown or Somerset, only with a really bad traffic problem. If I had some free time in my schedule, I'd pop down and harass my state reps with the standard Commie Pinko party line: WEED GOOD, BUSH BAD. But no time for the old in-out-in-out, luv, just here to read the meter.

A final random thought about being stopped in Harrisburg traffic: When I see bumper stickers like "My scottish terrier is smarter than your honor student" right next to the "W 2004" bumper sticker, it explains so much and I just wish that the obvious carbon monoxide poisoning that's going on there would speed up a little bit.