If you’re from Texas, you might want to stop reading now.<\/p>\n
See, I’m reasonably sure you haven’t done anything to me personally, but I’ve still come to a life decision*<\/em> that you’re not going to like.<\/p>\n I fucking hate Texans.<\/p>\n I mean, we all know about George Bush and how he sucks. And what makes that even worse is that he’s not a Texan, but has latched on to the identity like it’s the apex of what an american personality should be and instead of coming off as down-home-genuine my-word-is-stronger-than-oak, in actuality it is phony and gross.<\/p>\n But that’s not what solidified it for me.<\/p>\n What solidified my hatred of Texans was lunchtime today. I parked and was getting out of my car when the same SUV pulled up next to me.<\/p>\n The red-faced man in the red SUV who looked suspiciously like John Locke’s dad from ‘Lost’ said “So you think I need to watch where I’m going”. Aware that the Subway was full of state troopers, a fortunate calm came over me. “Uhh, yeah, as a matter of fact I do.” His response could have been Shakespearean it was so well crafted. “Fuck you, fatboy.” I was taken aback, but just had to ask the only question that was in my mind at the moment, “You really think you’re a tough guy, don’t you?” He pointed to his license plate. “Look where I’m from.” Texas tags. I couldn’t help it; I started laughing. “Oh, that’s right. Don’t mess with Texas?” He called me fat again and I called him old and then he peeled wheels out of the parking lot. It was a sweet little moment. Yell at me for exclaiming my fear that his shitty driving was about to result in a scrape-up.<\/p>\n He called me fat boy.<\/p>\n He pointed to his Texas tags as proof that he was tough.<\/p>\n Fucking Texans.<\/p>\n Fucking arrogant, lets-get-in-to-a-pissing-contest Texans.<\/p>\n I hate them all. Texans are now my sworn enemies. My nemesisesisses. (or, possibly, nemesi)<\/p>\n The everything’s-bigger-in, don’t-mess-with Texas personality is the egotistical equivalent of the plastic nutsucks that douchbags hang off their trailer hitch. It’s a clear sign of an unimaginitive response to perceived shortcomings.<\/p>\n If fucking Texas is so great, than Texans should go back to their tumbleweeds and oil derricks and leave the rest of us alone.<\/p>\n I love my state; love it with a passion. I think that, for 30 years of my life, Maryland has been the ideal place for me to live. But I don’t think being a Marylander makes me better than anyone else. I don’t think being a Marylander makes me tougher or smarter or better looking than anyone else.<\/p>\n I do think though, when someone questions your character (“you really think you’re a tough guy?”) if your answer is about where you’re from, that answer says a hell of alot about who you are.<\/p>\n *I actually have made another un-related life decision recently but want to wait until all the hate is out of my system so I can write about it in the correct (read: positive) state of mind.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" If you’re from Texas, you might want to stop reading now. See, I’m reasonably sure you haven’t done anything to me personally, but I’ve still come to a life decision* that you’re not going to like. I fucking hate Texans. … Continue reading
\nAt lunch today, I was making a left in to a Subway parking lot. (turkey on white with lettuce, tomato, mayo, and a little salt and pepper. yum.) As I began my turn, a red SUV gunned it out of the parking lot trying to make a left as well. The SUV came fairly close to brushing the side of my car and so, with my window down because it’s so nice out today, I said – out loud – ‘jeez, watch where you’re going’. Yes I actually did say ‘jeez’.<\/p>\n
\nThe whole time, his lunch buddy sat silently in the passenger seat, looking (I believe) mortified that his friend would chase me down to yell at me.<\/p>\n