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August 6, 2013
Many oval bumper stickers – of the kind that informs fellow follower motorists as to the inhabitants’ physical or birth origins – adorned ass ends of obese SUV’s heftily ensconced upon lanes wide enough to accommodate them in their petro-consumptive glory as we barreled along the Interstate.

One absurd monition popped out of the pack:

DO AC.

But that’s to be expected in a state swooned then swindled early on by the siren song of casino gambling.

In ‘Doing AC’, you’d be appalled by rank poverty’s juxtaposition plopped in the midst of glaring feel-good glitz.
It’s enough to give ya the shitz.