Brought to you by our hometown (region, really) paper: the most inexplicable news story to ever make it past a copy editor.
Coincidentally, as I was out for a jog yesterday I was passed by at least 150 automobiles, some of which were most certainly vans. Against all odds, I escaped this harrowing ordeal entirely rape and molestation free. Of course, Nashville’s local rag didn’t pick up the story because they suck and don’t care about my non-rape. You can bet your ass they’re all over it whenever someone DOES get raped, though. Fair-weather friends, that’s what I call ‘em. There are journalistic lessons to be learned from our friends at the Wellsville Daily Reporter. Take a fucking number.
All kidding aside, I’d like to wish our friends Rural Patrick and Johnny Masters a safe trip south this week. Those big trucks can be tough to handle, especially on long journeys, so do your best to keep her ‘tween the ditches. ‘Tween the mustard and the mayonnaise and all that. And though I haven’t experienced it personally, I’ve heard Rural Patrick is a pretty awful driver so better let Johnny captain the ship. After all, he was more or less a professional driver for a few years for some fucked up reason that I never figured out.
