Welcome to Morton, IL: Land of Fucktards
I moved to this fucktard town because my soon to be ex-wife grew up here. Little did I know that two weeks after moving here she'd meet the love of her life, move back to Washington where I wanted to live to begin with, and eventually divorce me (June 5th). So now, I get to live 8 blocks from her parents - please pause while Ode to Joy finishes playing in the background - in a town filled with dumbasses, pricks, douchebags, and a seemingly infinite supply of fucktards. It's like living in an entire town that spends it's day going about half-assed singing "Ding fries are done".
I guess the first clue that tipped me off was having the police called on me within 36 hours of moving into my house. No that's not a fucking typo - 36 FUCKING HOURS or - if your from Morton and reading this - a day and a half - or 6 shifts at McDonald's. It seems the woman behind our house has nothing better to do than stare out her window into my backyard. She felt our dog had been out too long and called the police. First, if you have nothing better than sitting in your living room watching your neighbors, save yourself and others the time and aggravation and take bath with your toaster. Of course, if you're from Morton, REMEMBER to plug in the toaster ... DING! Toast is Done! Second, if you live with cats and dogs and are a "bird watcher" ... you have no fucking life to leave. Ding! Toaster's Ready! Third, it's a FUCKING DOG. Amazingly enough people, dogs, cats, birds, and every other ANIMAL on God's green Earth are OUT DOOR FUCKING ANIMALS otherwise they wouldn't be called ANIMALS. Woooo-Woooo! Here comes the clue train.
To be fair, that's not the first thing I noticed. Actually, the first thing I noticed was everyone in town does 10mph under the speed limit - everywhere. In fact, I am willing to bet 90% of drivers on I-74, in the left lane, doing 60mph are from Morton. Of course, they can't pick a fucking lane anyhow. Half the dumbasses drive down the fucking middle of the road anywhere it's two lane. Don't bother using a turn signal either douchebag, Nostradamus already foresaw you were going to take an immediate left after cutting me off in heavy traffic so no need to warn me with anything as trivial as your turn signal.
Of course, I only have to deal with traffic and the dumbass drivers when I need to go to the store. Yet, despite the fact there is a Krogers and a Walmart, I have to go to Pekin for alcohol. You see, only liquor stores can seel alcohol in Morton and I don't feel like taking out a loan to buy a fucking 18-pack of Miller Lite bottles. Therefore, I wait until Kroger runs a sale on beer (or Super Liquors runs a sale on Bacardi) and I stock up. Of course, driving to Pekin and Washington (and Peoria) for alcohol may seem frugal until you figure out every 6-pack, 12-pack, case, fifth in the town is marked up at least $1 to $3 more than any other place you could buy it. Then again, in the land of fucktards, alcohol should be expensive. I mean, these people are dumb enough, do they really need to add alcohol to the mix?
But for not selling alcohol, Kroger can get very busy. People buying white helmets and peanut butter all day long. So of course, you have 12 fucking checkout lanes and only one is open. Of course, it’s always some slack-jawed, hillbilly girl whose only working there so her parents don’t turn her out to pay for their future double-wide. It takes her 2 hours to ring you through and then another hour to bag it. Suddenly a trip to the store for diapers and a pizza turns into a fucking Disneyland excursion minus a pair of mouse ears.
Of course, I could go to the self-checkout lanes but those are filled 20-deep with fucktards who probably shouldn’t operate a locked door much less something so sophisticated as a scanner. Beep! Shoping Done! Beep! Shopping Done! So it’s either wait in the 10-deep line for Betty Sue or wait while people try to discern where on their package of ho-ho’s the fucking bar code is. Then – of course – they have to pay for their goods which is always entertaining.
Just a quick recap of things not to do in the self-checkout line for you fucktards who can read but still don’t know how to shop:
- You do not pay the girl sitting at the counter looking at you like you’re a crack head.
- The beep means your item scanned, there is no need to scan it a second time and waste my life while the bored, hillbilly girl at the counter has to call the office, who has to show up with some magic key 30 minutes later, who then has to remove the extra scanned item from your order … so you can do the same thing with your next fucking item.
- Swiping a Kroger card over the machine should take no more than 3 seconds. I watched some dumb bitch actually ask for help because her card would not work … of course, she was swiping a CVS card, but those things are bound to happen … in Morton.
OK, I have to quit writing otherwise Fox News is going to need to raise the threat level. Mohammed, Achmed, if you’re out there … FUCK ALLAH you bitches, come and get me … I live in Morton. Just randomly fuck the place up I am sure you’ll eventually get to me. Mohammed is my bitch! (That oughta do it)