Greetings and Salutations from ME, BIG DADDY! Yes, this week, we have a WONDERFUL, and I do mean WONDERFUL work of ranting art by Miss Reps. You know, that chick with the TP rant before? I'm sure everyone remembers that one. WELL, here's another one! So, read this one! Enjoy it! Love it! Get on your knees like the bitches you all are and whorship it!DO IT! DO IT NOW!Oh ha ha... did I say that? What I meant was, see ya next week!

I feel as though I have been slacking in my duties as a Grade A, Top-of-the-line lamenter. I am going to redeem myself by complaining to each one of you about my strenuous four-hour tour (Gilligan’s Island Theme Song) back to St. Peter. (Remember that I go to school down in this hellhole) Now I realize that most of you watch TV or listen to the radio. (Unless of course you are Amish and if you are; get off the fucking computer. Now what kind of people believe that they are being righteous if they don't use electricity? I mean seriously, if it's there, use it. I don’t think you will go to hell for that…it is Minnesota for cryin’ out loud, it is fucking cold here.)

I am sure that you are all aware of the severe flooding of the Minnesota River. Just because I don’t watch TV anymore (because college has sucked all the life out of me and I don’t have time for it anymore.) I wasn’t aware of it. I am sort of secluded in this wet dream of Hitler’s, (Gustavus, MN). But nevertheless, there is some flooding in St. Peter; of course not to surpass the greatness of that goddamn TORNADO of 1998 (that these hicks are still talking about). There is only one road that goes in and out of St. Peter, and this is highway 169. Because of the floodwaters it has been blocked off. (Everything seems fine there, I mean this is the state with a 9 month winter and a 3 month period of road construction) It usually takes me about an hour and a half to get to this shit hole. (Give or take, Big Daddy can vouch for that) Well, as usual, I arrived in Belle Plaine (doesn’t matter, the town is the size of Brad Pitt’s dick…minuscule) at the scheduled time and all of a sudden I hit a sign that said DETOUR. Well, my first thought was: Should I take it? Then I decided to follow the detour to St. Peter. (Hopefully only about a half-hour left to go)

Well, the damn highway patrol doesn’t know how to do their job or something (no offense if any of you losers work for them) and rather than having a little sign that says “you’re still on the detour” or “detour is 22 more miles” there was one every 10 miles. (Did you run out or something? Actually, yes they did. I called them and bitched.) So here I am driving for 10 miles through cow town and I have no idea where the fuck I am and there is no way to find out because there isn't even a damn street sign or gas station (I may be 75% male mentality, but I still will ask directions. Usually only if I have been on the road for at least an hour though) with in miles. And then, when all hope is lost, I see another fucking sign for the detour. (Well, it would have been nice if you would tell me that a little more often so I wouldn't go into a panic attack and think that I was going to become cow food for the night). Nothing was clearly marked and the detour signs are the same size and street signs and for old blind people like me, they are hard to see.

So as you can guess, I took many different turns. (No surprise there, I have seen more of MN in 3 years than most people have seen in their whole lives because I get lost all the damn time.) After going this way and that, and stopping to ask two old guys in the middle of no where for help (no I am not worried about getting mugged by some horny pervert named Bubba) I arrived in fucker’s ville (St. Peter). I guess there is only one road open to go to and from St. Peter, and at that a little road that ain’t even on the map…the town map. (The town is basically cut off because there is water on all sides; it's like a goddamn island of hicks of something) But none of the locals know anything about what roads to take to get in or out of town, because they never even fucking leave the town. They are born, learn to shit or walk, go to elementary school, Jr. High, High School, and college here. And then they get a job here because the fuckers never leave. So what's it to them?

But then I arrive safely and all of you can stop holding your breath. Next time you drive somewhere, I want you to think about what butt biscuits the highway patrollers are, and book a hotel, I recommend Holiday Inn Luxury Suites with the hot tub. I guess my real problem here is the lazy ass sonsabitches that work for the government and I could start out talking about how much I hate THE MAN. (But that is another time) And another thing that pisses me off is this beautiful Arian race that finds sanction in a town that reminds me of every other Midwestern suburb, including the people. (Damn Honkeys)