Well, "hell" is a bit strong, but the headline did get you here and the point of this bit is to mention that I am no longer a resident of that mountainous Mountain Dew-addicted state.
While an amusing sidetrack in one's life, the year-and-a-half "extended cup of coffee" just outside of Clarksburg has left me with no desire to hurry back to them thar hills.
On one of my last days there I did make an observation at the newly rebuilt and expanded Sheets {a truly unfortunate business name}. It seems the Bridgeport gas station/convenience store/restaurant/meeting place offers NO FEWER THAN 36 different flavors of chewing tobacco behind the counter, and I'm thinking how could anyone possibly discern the nuances of 36 flavors of what appears to be manure stuffed in a tiny round tin?
Has anyone tried all 36? And if someone has tried all 36, is the dude still alive or have any teef left?
That kind of sums up my experience in the Mountaineer State, and we lived in the middle of the so-called High-Tech Corridor that hugs I-79, twixt Weston and Morgantown.
Nice people — West Virginians — for the most part, but they have to struggle for survival under the boot-heel of a not-too-bright oligarchy that will continue to send Robert C. Byrd to the Senate long after he's dead. [has anyone checked his pulse in the last 20 years?]
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