Here’s a great way to spend a weekend: sit through five lacrosse games and wonder why your team went 4-1 and wasn’t in the championship game. Console your son, and then go to an amusement park when it’s hot as fucking shit. Also, your bad knee collapses like wet tissue paper and you limp around goddamn Hershey Park. (It bills itself as “The Sweetest Place on Earth”, I never knew shit tasted sweet.)

For the record, I think all amusement parks are bullshit, but sitting on numerous benches, holding purses, cheap shit plush “prizes,” and hats (my son bought a forty fucking dollar baseball hat, I have disowned him, I don’t care if he’s only 12) gave me an opportunity to make a few observations.

Here’s the shocker: there are way too many obese people in our society. There were roving packs of ham beasts shuffling along, sweating like Nixon and emitting a stench that combined sour milk and old sweat. Lovely. Do you know fucking fat America is? So goddamn fat that there are signs on the rides at Hershey Park that explain to these lard asses – or maybe land masses? – that they might not be able to fit on the ride.

There were many Pennsylvania natives at the park that I am convinced this state needs to be completely carpet bombed so we can begin again. Inbreeding, poor life choices, meth, and many wrong turns on the evolution highway have created a tribe of dimwitted fucks who wear clothes, hairstyles, and piercings that can only be explained as crimes against humanity.

One example, a youngish trailer park troll was wearing jeans, heavy boots, and a black t-shirt with the Confederate flag on it. Under the flag was the word “redneck”. I hope you die in a fucking coal mine fire, you ignorant cockroach.

Now let’s talk tattoos. I have one, and I love them. However, I saw more bad tattoos than I have in my entire life. I didn’t get close enough to check the spelling, but god in heaven; does anyone need a dream catcher tattoo?  I saw plenty of blurry works of ink, which may appear crystal clear when viewed through the eyes of the drug addled members of the Rickets Brigade. I hope to never find out.

I’m a big believer in capitalism, and I understand needing to make a buck, but getting keestered for low quality eats and drinks is infuriating. And no, I don’t want to buy a plastic piece of shit “mug” that lets me refill for 99 cents. Fuck you and your fake ass bargains, you deserve to have your assholes infested by poisonous salamanders.

Finally, the rides. Forty minutes of waiting for 30 seconds of nausea and disorientation. I can chug a fifth of Old Crow and roll down a hill if I want the same results. In fact, I have done this and it can be exhilarating if you like puke streaming from your nostrils.

You know what?

I’ll take that over an amusement park any day.

On A Lighter Note
(Each post will end with an event that made me happy.)

At the same park I saw a bunch of teenagers of varying skin colors walking, laughing, and wearing radiant smiles of happiness. Not one of them gave a good goddamn about the color of their friends’ skin.