Jefferson and Madison, the capital Wisconsin. Trucking goods up to Alaska, eat frozen swanson dinners, like blue collar lotto winners or them paint-thinners slim kids splash on stained overalls, for summer pay checks not worth beans.
Niagara Falls? is too tall, wide, deep and scary; few survivors, wishing for scurvy, scream Hail Marys going over jetsam; thunderous spray, pulverized into the clay, resurfacing on labour day.
Admiring spires in Copenhagen, through the Christiana haze and the existential mania of Scandinavian brains: too many blondes, men wanting bigger schlongs; it’s beautiful, prosperous, tourists throng, the picture-book city--nothing possibly wrong.
No?
Whaddya know--xenophobes, the socialist load, big tax burdens, no births, the country corrodes, thrown to the dogs—ie, EU in-roads—by great Danes, navel-gazing in ignorant bliss. (You reveal all of this with sophisticate pith, demographic analysis, and a delicate flip of your rose-scented wrist.)
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