Let me elaborate. I could strip down to nothing but my belly ring, stand right in front of the sunny front window and dance the macarena and no one would care. Because they're all at church. Or Walmart. Or maybe they're at church in Walmart. You know how they have those separate salons and banks and auto centers and things? Well who's to say that the Holy Church of Sam Walton, Prophet, doesn't have it's own little outlet between Deedee's Walmart Nails and The Second Bank of Nowheresville, Walmart Branch? It would not surprise me.

Also, there are two old guys across the street who don't seem to do anything else but sit on their porch and smoke. If I were to pull said stunt and get down with my naked self, I highly doubt they would notice. They must smoke everything- cigarettes, doobies, cloves, pipes, crackpipes, hashpipes, you name it, they must light it up.

I just counted five pickup trucks in a row going by on the main road.

This morning I counted five different evangelists on the television. Do they think God is deaf or something? That he won't hear them unless they scream? I am intrigued by this.

Please excuse me. I am suddenly feeling the need to start chewing tobacco. Jeebus help me.

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