Emotional Geography Part Deux

Archie, you are one angry traveler. Compared to you the miffed Vic just took a stroll through Peaceful Prairie. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised to learn that you were the seething redneck I ran into over on Pernicious Pass back in the spring of '02. Matter of fact I'm sure of it, because I distinctly remember my wife looking over at me and saying, "hey, that's the big, fat, bigot we saw beating that little, old, African-American lady when we were driving past Hostility Hill."

Yeah, it's all coming back to me now. Later that year, down in Canyon de Carnage, a hiker stumbled upon what turned out to be the rotting corpse of some illegal Mexican hombre. According to the paper he had fallen to his death after "slipping" off Rancorous Ridge, but now I'm not so sure I buy that story. I mean, doesn't it seem a little odd that not two days after this grisly discovery, twenty-seven of his cousins were found bludgeoned to death just around the bend from Malicious Meadow? I'm not necessarily trying to make a connection here, just asking.

And don't get me wrong. I fully understand that proximity to a murder does not a murderer make. Around that same time I was taking part in an anti-Islam rally out in the Bitter Badlands, when I was hauled in for questioning about the disappearance of a couple of local Imams. The D.A. was under a lot of pressure to solve the case, so I was more than a little worried. Fortunately for me, however, a game warden over near Nefarious Knob was able to vouch for my whereabouts, and my well earned good name was spared.

One final thought. I suspect that my co-opting of your emotional geography theme will make you want to cruise right down the Hateful Highway and kick my ass. But before you do something rash, remember this, ...ah, shoot! I can't think of anything. Go eat poop.