It's not an easy juxtaposition to go from trying to get my depression out of my system (which I can't say I have completely) to rattling on about something inane and pointless. I must, however, because if I don't I might forget and this really needs to be written somewhere so as I don't forget it. So without further ado....
Memo to the state of Utah:
What the hell were you people thinking? Your roadways make no sense! Mind you this is coming from a Rhode Islander. A friggin' Rhode Islander! Our DOT sucks. I mean it sucks big time. Everyone thinks that RI drivers suck, but it's not really our fault--it's the fact that our DOT is incredibly incompetent combined with the profound bad influence of Massachusetts drivers (we call them Mass holes) and the even worse influence of Connecticut drivers (just try not getting killed in the Nutmeg state...I mean between Martha and Letterman alone, you take your life in your hands passing though). But even so you, my dear Utah, take the cake. Move over California, move over (urban areas of) New Hampshire, there's a state that outdoes you both for poor roadway planning.
You know you're in trouble from the outset when the state's nickname becomes painfully clear. The Beehive State is Utah's moniker. The home of things that can harm you is what the state was proud enough of to adopt as it's nickname. Not content to leave it at that, though, they actually use the outline of a beehive as their "logo" for state routes. State route 123 (and mind you, I don't know if there
is a Utah state route 123, but I'm not dragging out the stupid map (or even the intellectually gifted map), as I'm just trying to make a stupid (and definitely NOT intellectually gifted) point), for example, would be shown on signs inside the shape of a beehive. Just like state route numbers in Ohio are depicted, well, within an outline of the state of Ohio. Real original, by the way. I guess it was better for tourism then putting the state route numbers within an outline of a river set on fire. Ohio is not the target of my ire, however--at least not this time--so I digress.
The real trouble isn't the dreaded state routes and the wretched beehives that serve as their avatars. No, it's the interstate highways that really get obnoxious. Everything is assigned an exit number in this state. I do mean everything. Anytime you leave the field of travel, the diversion has an assigned exit number. Stopping at a rest area? It has an exit number. Trucker pulling into a weigh station? It has an exit number (the weigh station, not the trucker...one must make the distinction as some truckers would find the slutty connotation of having an exit number offensive...at least two or three of them anyways...truckers not exit numbers, that is--aw, skip it). Pull into the break down lane and pop the hood to wait for AAA? The state troopers will stop not to help, but to affix a temporary exit number to the top of the popped hood of your car. Yes they're serious about having a designation for everything. Didn't see one lousy exit pointing people in the direction of access to the Great Salt Lake (which was clearly visible from the Interstate at points), but what exits there were definitely had a number. Who cares where you're going as long as the exit has a number, right? Well, only after a fashion.
The good and um, "righteous" people of Utah ain't through with you yet, oh no. You see while every exit has a number, not every number has an exit. "He's finally flipped," I hear you cry. True, but I know of whence I speak in this one instance. You see, dearest reader, logic and government seldom go together. Logic and Utah are separated by as wide a gulf as man and ape (I know it's unfashionable to actually believe in all that evolution crap these days, but I'm one of those relics who actually buys into science and reason and being able to explain things rationally through logical methodology...hell, I may well be the missing link, no one's proven otherwise, much to my chagrin). What I'm getting at here is that on the interstate highway that runs in a north/south direction through Salt Lake City, Provo, and the other big metroplexes like Farmington and Lehi (I'll assume you can see my sarcasm, as if you can't you're probably too dumb, or better yet, too smart to have read this far) that comprise Utah's primary population center, the exits are numbered differently depending upon the direction you're traveling. Exit 238 northbound may well be exit 241 southbound. Neither the Rand McNally nor the AAA atlases used as a reference for this excursion pointed out this nonsensical policy. If either did, I certainly didn't see it--it would have had to have been in fine print or perhaps locked away in an obscure location that only the likes of I and Arthur Dent would have the misfortune to have to contend with.
So what's the problem, Utah? Is there something in the book of Mormon that directs you to keep your roadways in such a user-unfriendly state? I think I remember that passage from their holy book whilst perusing it in my hotel room (since for some inexplicable reason the only channels available were The Weather Channel and Home Shopping (the jewelry edition)...I knew Utah was ruled by the religious right, but this desperate attempt to convert tourists is just plain lame and pathetic):
And the Lord said, "Go forth and confuse non-believers. Show unto them my righteousness or deliver them from the settlement I provide unto thee by making their path unclear. For only the good shall reap the benefits of this land, the rest shall be exiled to Montana (the land I doth permitted Satan to use to house the overflow of the wicked in his hoary nether region). Ashes to ashes, Osmond to Osmond, go in peace with your wives (just the human ones, leave the sheep please) and spread my word. Se La." Or maybe you're all just total bastards? Nah, if that were the case, you'd all be in the FBI (or so claims Arlo Guthrie, anyways).
Bottom line, Utah, get your act together and play nice like the normal states (i.e. NOT Ohio or California or Rhode Island or New Hampshire or...aw, heck, maybe it would save us both a lot of trouble if you just seceded from the union--I mean what's the worse that can happen, civil war? Over a state wanting out? Please, like
THAT could happen....). Rest assured that my rage toward you, Utah, has nothing to do with the fact that I couldn't find a decent meal in the whole state or that you gave my colleague a $300+ speeding ticket. Well, maybe a little. In fact, maybe entirely. You know what...disregard this whole diatribe, those are definitely the reasons.
That said, your DOT
still sucks.
--
What is the half-life of a Blog anyways? The lapse between visits keeps doubling in length for me. I think it's because I don't care. Perhaps because I have nothing to say. Maybe just because it's not worth the trouble. I could tell all and it wouldn't matter--no one's reading anyways. Why bother. I'm sick of venting. Venting calms me momentarily until the next crisis, then where am I?
I guess I just thought that if I was patient, all would turn out well. Good things come to those who wait, right? I muddle through every disappointment and try to remind myself that the pain inflicted upon me by the universe is only to offset the good things that will one day be coming my way. Every disappointment is payment towards my eventual happiness. I don't know how much longer I can shoulder the load, though. I don't know how much more of people bailing on me, not giving me a chance, not providing a shoulder for me to cry on I can live with. It all builds up and my hopeful vision of the world is blurred into a kaleidoscope of tears. I've been waiting for my turn for a long time and sometimes the carrot is dangled so close to me I can smell it, but still I never catch it.
I mean, don't get me wrong, I know I could have it much worse. I live in what is jingoistically called the greatest nation on Earth--a bit of propaganda that seems to hold some truth. I'm not starving or homeless. I still think I'm entitled to my pain, though. When your heart is broken over and over again, when it hasn't been fed, been loved or allowed to give love, isn't that nearly as tragic as all those more tangible forms of suffering? And don't give me any shit about whiney complaining. Have you been there? Have you been without a counterpart for not weeks or months, but years? If not, just shut the fuck up, OK. You don't know and you'll never know, so either help me get what I need or get the hell out of my way. Angry? Probably a little, yes. You'd be too if you've been as deprived as I have. Humans need emotional support, especially those humans as emotional as I. I can't get by like this much longer. Someone, somewhere, please...nourish my soul, restore what little remains of my faith in human nature. And for the love of God, don't break my heart...again.
No, I'm well past venting making me feel markedly better. Well past it by far....
