110
Put on my boots, jumped in my F-150, cooked a rare steak, had a cup of Black Rifle coffee, poured a glass of bourbon...
(hexbear.net)
...loaded my $15000 AR-15, bought some Dude Wipes, put on my Blu-ray collection of Clint Eastwood movies, told everyone I came across that I wasn't gay, stifled all emotion, had my wife make a sandwich and raise my kids, told my black neighbor he was "one of the good ones", shared videos of dead Palestinians, put on my "Mission Accomplished" bumper sticker from 2003, turned on my Joe Rogan podcast, clocked out at the racism factory, and drove to the polls here in Whitesville Texas. Brought my wife and kids too. We understood the assignment. We were adulting. We did a democracy. Donald is right behind me isn't he?
Why are Texans so fucking weird
I'm not saying there definitely IS a hellmouth out in texas, but after reading some Joe Landsdale (CW:SV) and listening to some Butthole Surfers, I've started coming around to the idea that whatever eldritch force exists there is a totalizng one: You either fall invisibly under it's spell and purchase a large belt buckle, or you can perceive it out the corner of your eye and are compelled to find ways to express it like a Lovecraft protagonist.
If I thought magic was an actually existing physical force I would absolutely, deeply, sincerely believe that Texas has been eternally cursed by all the gods for it's twice-treason in the name of enslavement.
Imagine the burden of having to be stereotypical Usians but even more.
After seven days and seven nights when God created the heavens and the Earth, he threw everything leftover into Texas before he rested.
It's like that fort you built out of toilet paper rolls and the last bits of scotch tape before you gave up after realizing you needed better materials when you were little. Your grandma yelled at you for wasting the tape in drawers, even though she should have thrown them away.