Pizza on Earth

February 6th, 2024

Maybe You Should Move

Sometimes I think about the people I went to high school with, and I wonder how different their lifestyles are from mine. A lot of them are surgeons and other types of doctors. Some are lawyers. Some are professional heirs, like the kids who inherited the Lennar fortune and the Mexican guy whose father was a real estate tycoon.

One blew his brains out at 25, after getting his MD. Another died while diving drunk. Another wandered off from a climbing team, fell into a crevasse in the Himalayas, and was left there. One former friend jumped off a bridge in San Diego because he was upset about his own homosexuality.

I’m sure many are driving leased foreign cars they turn in every year or two. They live in high-priced homes in Miami or around other big cities. They must have a lot of expensive jewelry. The women must have bags that cost four figures. I’m sure most of them hate Donald Trump and have low opinions of people who live in rural areas and vote for people who support Israel and the church.

A lot of them vacation in places like Vail, New York, and Paris. Surely.

I went to the best prep school in Florida, and our student body was around 50% Jewish. People don’t like to hear it, but Jews really are smarter than the rest of us. It was normal for about 10% of a graduating class to be Merit Scholars. A lot of people, like me, went off to Ivy League schools. People who ended up at places like the University of Miami were pitied.

I ended up getting two degrees from UM, so I slid into the loser demographic.

I live on a farm. I do nothing. I wear T-shirts and Carhartt pants every single day. I wear wool socks even in summer. I wear hiking shoes or work boots all the time.

I have a Ford and a Dodge Cummins. I shoot high-powered rifles in my backyard. I think DeSantis is the greatest governor who ever lived. I smoke ribs and brew beer. I have a very smart wife with two degrees who does all my housekeeping. She has no career. The thought of getting a job disturbs her. She loves her situation.

We go to restaurants like Sonny’s BBQ and an incredible Italian place run by Mexicans. They put it in a Pizza Hut that went out of business. You can tell it used to be a chain restaurant.

My wife buys clothes at Walmart and on Amazon. I wonder how many of my classmates would would wear Walmart clothes. One of these days we’ll go to Orlando and hit some of the nicer stores, but we have not done it yet.

She wears dresses. I think she is the only wife in America who wears dresses. When we go out, she looks like royalty compared to the other girls. American women have given up. When we walk around in the grocery store, it looks like the lady who inherited it has shown up to check up on her employees.

Single ladies, if you want to impress men, wear dresses. And I don’t mean short cocktail dresses that make you look like escorts.

I know not all of my classmates are successful, but many are, and they are generally leftists. One ran Planned Parenthood in Miami. I think most would find my lifestyle ridiculous.

Meanwhile, the wife and I are having a wonderful time, and we don’t worry about the kinds of things they worry about. Marital problems that come from marrying without God’s help, for shallow reasons. Debt from trying to impress other people. Job stress. Stress from dealing with coarse, selfish, malicious blue-city types. Boys who want to be castrated. Girls who have themselves skinned in order to make ridiculous fake penises.

We love the area we live in. I love it more than my wife, because I have lived in blue cities, and I know they are hellholes of damnation and rage.

The people here could not be nicer. I have been here almost 7 glorious years, and they still surprise me.

This is a county full of tradesmen and farmers. There are not a lot of educated people here. You wouldn’t want to go to the barber shop and toss off a reference to T.S. Eliot. There are a lot of tattoos. People drink bad beer. I don’t care. They’re fantastic. It’s a privilege to live among them.

I used to think people were like this in Eastern Kentucky, where my parents were born. They’re not. Not all Southerners are the same. In Eastern Kentucky, people are selfish. Stingy. They don’t tip. They are racist. They are very angry. They treat adultery as though it were a competitive sport. They shoot each other over nothing. They neglect and degrade their kids. They drink like crazy. They love drugs. They have very short tempers. They love ignorance. Childish people.

They’re nice on the surface, but the nice layer is very thin and fragile.

Of course, I’m generalizing. I’m not God. I can’t tell you what every person there is like, and if I could, you wouldn’t be able to absorb it. Human beings are limited. We have to generalize, and it’s a good thing. It works.

I had to go to Kentucky for my dad’s funeral, and my second cousin, who is a very nice, proper lady, told me she had told her kids to get out. She said there was nothing for them there.

My aunt says I’m ashamed of my people. Well, I’m definitely ashamed of her, if that counts. I have good reason. I’m ashamed of her son, too. He has done disgraceful things.

She boosts Eastern Kentucky like it was Wakanda. She’s like a black ghetto matriarch who insists her people are brilliant, virtuous victims whose problems are caused by predatory outsiders. No; sorry. They’re trashy. They bring it all on themselves. A lifestyle of drunkenness, adultery, divorce, invertebrate-level parenting, racism, willful ignorance, and persecution of people who better themselves is always going to lead to poverty.

Eastern Kentucky’s poverty is right and normal. It’s what’s supposed to happen to people who act the way they do. Everything is going as it should, under the circumstances.

Leftists up there love to say people like Carnegie came in and stole the coal, keeping the area poor. No; the people who owned it were ignorant and weak, and that was their own fault. If they had been better people, they would have kept the coal and the profits.

Look at Texas and oil. BAM. What’s their answer to that?

Texas is full of rich people whose ancestors were poor landowners. Kentucky is full of coal truck drivers whose ancestors sold their coal to people who went to school.

I guess it’s silly to talk about coal as though it were still important. Democrats killed it, and people in Eastern Kentucky voted for them because they love government handouts more than prosperity. I don’t know what coal truck drivers do for a living now. Maybe they’re all growing dope. They’re definitely not going to work in all those profitable businesses Eastern Kentuckians never built.

You could make a pretty long list of oil billionaires from Texas. Forbes says there are 45. Here’s a complete list of all the Eastern Kentucky coal billionaires who ever lived:

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BAM.

I was flim-flammed when I was a kid. I thought Kentucky was paradise, and I thought the people were better than Miami people, who are unbearable. It’s actually a wash, or maybe I’d give the edge to Miami.

I feel like apologizing to God for being fooled.

Anyway, I started writing today to tell about a restaurant I discovered recently. I’ve known about it for a long time, and I got takeout once a few years ago, but I never went inside until a few days back. They didn’t accept credit cards when I moved here, so I formed a habit of driving past. They changed their policy, so now I’m not discouraged from going in.

It’s a pizza place. Plain old red-and-white Italian food. Spaghetti, ziti, and lasagna.

I went in with my buddy Mike, and I was very impressed.

It’s probably the cleanest restaurant I’ve ever seen. I was not able to see a speck of debris anywhere. It looked like it had been gone over by a professional crew the day before. Restaurants here tend to have dirty floors and greasy menus, but this one was like an operating room. I marveled at it, and that is not an exaggeration.

The staff was very nice, and they were sharp. They got things done.

The food was okay. That’s all I can say about it. They need to get better cheese, and they should look into Stanislaus tomato products. But it’s okay. It’s reasonably good, and it’s close and cheap.

They had blinds on all the windows, and they were all pulled down. I couldn’t see out. I felt like I was in a spaceship on the way to heaven.

I’ve eaten there twice in the last week.

The last time we visited, Mike and I spent a lot of time talking about God, and while we were talking, I heard a waitress talking behind him. She was standing in the aisle with her hand on a customer’s shoulder. He was telling her something. A testimony. Something good had happened. I didn’t hear what.

She started saying, “Thank you, JESUS. Thank you, JESUS.” Everyone in the place heard it. She didn’t seem to think about that at all. No one looked up. No dirty looks. It was business as usual.

Wonderful. No wonder the restaurant is in such good order. They acknowledge God.

Not everyone here is like that, and there are a lot of dirty, disappointing restaurants, but there are lots of very serious Christians here. They even play Christian music over the speakers in chain stores and restaurants.

God has been so good to my wife and me. It is confusing.

The presence of God and Christians is something you can’t appreciate or miss until you have experienced it. You have to live in a place like this and a place like New York before you understand how much better Christian areas are. God was right. All the things he told us in the Bible were right. His ways work, and the filthy leftist ways that predominate in America are like AIDS and syphilis, rotting people as they stand.

Never doubt it. Never let them gaslight you. Never take advice from losers.

Experiences like this make me hate this world even more. In my prayers, I beg God to bring the rapture soon. Imagine living in a place where everyone agrees about everything. Everyone is bathed in love, continuously. In heaven, you won’t need guns, locks, passwords, cops, antivirus programs, medicines, surgeries…it won’t be like the earth, where trillions of creatures are out to get you every second of your life. On Earth during the millennium, there will still be some evil, but it will be a place of rest and peace and love.

2 Responses to “Pizza on Earth”

  1. John Bowen Says:

    Steve, you steered me right on boots once, so I feel like I should return the favor by mentioning the unfortunately named Cincinnati* boots made by Keen. They are nearly indestructible, and very comfy, removing two of the four issues I have from working on concrete floors 8 hours a day. The other two I attribute to being badly overweight and too many energy drinks, problems which the Lord and I are working on. I highly recommend them.

    *Who names boots after the worst chili on the planet? Seriously.

  2. Steve H. Says:

    Thanks, John. I have some Keen stuff, and so does my wife.