Special Sauce

A mish-mash of twisted thoughts from a fevered ego. Updated when the spirit moves me, contents vary and may have settled during shipping. Do not open towards eyes. Caution: Ingestion of Special Sauce may cause hair loss, halitosis, and a burning sensation while urinating.


Mmm. Tastes like rage!

Ok. I live in a very touristy area. Think of it as Branson, without electricity or celebrities, and even less attention to personal hygiene. All summer long it's really "New York South" and "New Jersey West", not Pennsylvania. And that's fine. I know better than to go east on route 30 for any reason during the summer. I'm smrt like that. But on a beautiful fall day, you'd think I'd get a little reprieve.

You'd be wrong.

I thought "no problem, it's early. I'm going to get to the swell little yarn shop by 10:00, surely the tourists won't be out yet!"

What a fool I am.

Actually, I was there before 10AM, but decided to drive east a bit, and maybe snag a donut, or a piece of shoo-fly pie or something for breakfast. That was mistake number 1. I drove through bird-in-hand at the speed of dark, behind oceans of SUVs and minivans with out of state plates, rubbernecking at the "real, live, Ay-mish people", idiots taking pictures of buggies in parking lots, and colossal morons lining up to pay to go for a ride in a buggy driven by some guy named Raoul, who couldn't be less Amish if he was wearing neon spandex... it was bad.

So lets get a few things straight, shall we?

Guess what, people. The Amish? They're not really like you or me. They don't use electricity. Much. Unless it's in the barn, and OK their appliances are actually gas-powered, or use power supplied by a generator. They don't use phones. Unless it's in the barn, or a shed in the backyard, or the bishop doesn't find out they've got a cell phone. They don't drive cars. Ok, they do, but only until they've joined the church, and really only then if they're old order. Nouveau Amish drive. Oh, and they dress funny. Unless they're teenagers, and haven't joined the church yet, and are out at a party* or a sports bar. Or the beach.

Anyway. They're people. They're different. Big fucking deal. Do you drive around looking for people in wheelchairs to take pictures of because "they're different"** too? What about burn victims? They look pretty different. You snappin' pictures of them? Hassidic Jews? No? Then Go. The fuck. Home. Give me my town back.

And yes, I am fully aware that we encourage this stupid behavior. We've exploited the hell out of the Amish. And guess what? We're driving them away, because they can't stand it here, and frankly, I don't blame them. If I couldn't do my job without some fucking idiot in a fanny pack and gigantic white sneakers interrupting me every 20 seconds to ask me to pose with my stapler- and then have the guy get PISSED OFF when I tell him no, that posing for pictures is against my religion...*** I'd leave too. Shit, I'm the least-amish looking person out there, and *I* have been asked to pose for dumshit tourists. "Dude. I'm wearing shorts. I may live on a farm, but that doesn't automatically make me Amish. Now if you don't mind, I'd like to get my fucking mail."****

In short. Tourists, go the fuck home already. We'll send you a quilt, an Intercourse/Blue Ball postcard, and your obligatory shoo-fly pie, if you'll just go the hell away...

*- There was a big story about 10 years ago? About Amish kids getting mixed up with the Pagan motorcycle club, wild orgies, drug dealing, the whole nine... google it.

**- Yes, I know, they are no different than you or I. I am simply making a point. Sensitive bastards.

***- Yes, it was big news here when a tourist complained to local authorities (chamber of commerce, the cops, someone- I forget) because a guy in his field wouldn't pose for a picture. He thought the Amish were emplyoed by the Chamber or some such... Idiot.

**** Yes, this actually happened, when I was still in High School, and yes, I actually did live on a farm. Yay me.


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