Yesterday when I was sitting at a stoplight just off of route 7, there was a mack trailor truck in front of me with no back door. It was filled with pieces of firewood. It was also towing another smaller trailor that was also filled with wood. They had pulled out in front of me from the parking lot of a 7-11. It caught my eye because it looked like the firewood greatly outweighed the number of trees that still exist in Tyson's Corner.
I was examining the piles, looking to see if they were tied down with anything, when I noticed a foot. Then two feet, then four. As I peered deeper into the back of the truck, I just made out the images of two Mexican men. I thought maybe I was seeing things (it was pretty dark in the truck), but then I saw one of the men take a sip from a Fanta bottle. They were just chillin' in the back of a huge, doorless truck on a pile of wood.
The truck turned towards the 495 exit just as the light turned red again. I thought they were gone, but when I was 66 I was behind them yet again. They men seemed to be agitated. Maybe they thought I was from the INS or something. I wished someone was in the car with me so I could say "Hey lets play I-Spy. I spy two dead immigrants in a pile of firewood."
I couldn't help but think that just a few days earlier, these men were marching in DC, demanding for their right to sit in the back of a moving truck while tree branches slow slip into their anuses.
Right now I'm listening to one of my favorite Don and Mike bits on their podcast. It is called "Breaking News," a game where people call in and try to break stuff with as much noise as possible. A lot of people that call have machine guns and glock 9s. It should also be stated that most of these people come from rural areas, since it is illegal to shoot firearms in residential areas.
One guy shot 400 rounds into his girlfriend's car. He won that time.
Awhile ago, if I remember correctly, a contestant wanted to set off a bucket of dynamite by shooting it with an assault rifle. Don and Mike decided to hang up on the guy because they heard his two-year-old daughter babbling in the background.
It's instances like this that make me proud to live beneath the Mason-Dixon line.