Summer Vacation, Part I
To the college student in Missoula, where we stopped for breakfast: I do not want to hear, over breakfast (or any other meal, for that matter), how your mother pooped out five kids, but yours was a 37-hour ordeal that split her open like a walnut.
I also do not want to hear how high you were the last time a state trooper stopped you. Given the litany of substances you had on board, that trooper should have had the right to shoot your dumb ass on the spot, leaving your flesh for the carrion feeders and your bones for fertilizer. The next time you are that stupid, I hope you are in your vehicle alone, not wearing your seat belt, and that you go careening off a one-hundred-foot high embankment.
I also do not want to hear how high you were the last time a state trooper stopped you. Given the litany of substances you had on board, that trooper should have had the right to shoot your dumb ass on the spot, leaving your flesh for the carrion feeders and your bones for fertilizer. The next time you are that stupid, I hope you are in your vehicle alone, not wearing your seat belt, and that you go careening off a one-hundred-foot high embankment.
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