Archive for January, 2017

I hate Connecticut

January 29th, 2017

I’ve lived in Connecticut for a third of a century now. Actually, that’s not really true. To put it more accurately, I’ve existed in Connecticut for a third of a century. All of my living has occurred out of state, where there’s more to do than stare at walls, eat at Dunkin’ Donuts and/or Subway, and wait for death. Before I wrote this article, I tried to think of some things I like about Connecticut. This took about 3 hours and the only thing I was able to come up with was New Haven style pizza. Even that is easy enough to make at home if you have the right supplies, so you don’t even need to be in Connecticut to have it. If you take a normal state, get rid of anything entertaining, fill it with horrible drivers, dull out the landscape as much as possible, find the most corrupt politicians you can, and make everything as tedious and inefficient as possible, you have Connecticut. It even has a stupid motto – “He who is transplanted still sustains.” The motto should be, “At least we tried. Actually we didn’t. Get out while you still can.”

Everything is designed to be as inefficient as possible in this state. It takes mountains of paperwork and endless unanswered calls to do anything. Whether you’re at the DMV, trying to get insurance, dealing with matters of probate, trying to get a gun, or have a prescription filled, your patience will always be pushed to its very limits and then some. Another annoyingly inefficient thing about Connecticut is that everything is closed by 9pm. If you work late, need to get something at night, or just want to go out and do something after the sun goes down, you can forget about it. Buying soda at CVS followed by pumping gas and then going to a hospital is pretty much the pinnacle of Connecticut nightlife.

Another thing I hate about Connecticut is that our politicians are all flaming assholes. I know, I know, nearly all politicians fit this bill, but the ones from Connecticut are so corrupt and inept that they make Dan Quayle look like George Washington. All of the tampons in the world couldn’t soak up the vaginal blood belch that is Dan Malloy, who is currently serving his second term as governor. The first time he ran, he lost to his opponent, but then Bridgeport announced that it “forgot” to order 40,000 ballots (a story about as believable as Ernie and Bert’s heterosexuality) and extended voting for another day. This gave him enough votes to supposedly put him over the edge and into the governor’s mansion. He’s ranked as the 2nd least popular governor in the country, and with good reason. His failed policies, corrupt acts, flat-out lies, and attempts to tax everything under the sun make me wish he was an old road so he could be jackhammered into oblivion.

I’ve met and interacted with Malloy twice and both times he was such a prick you could’ve used him to shoot up. The first time I met him was at a gathering for small business owners in CT. Hating small business and anything that doesn’t lead to full submission to the government, he was very visibly displeased to be there. When my business partner and I introduced ourselves and attempted to shake his hand, he looked at us, laughed, shook his head, and walked away. Now that’s class. The other time I met him was in 2013 when he got the ball rolling on putting a home for convicted felons and sex offenders into a residential neighborhood in Rocky Hill. He claimed the building would have the tightest of security, the patients would be so old and frail they wouldn’t be able to walk, let alone molest more kids, and that the state would pay for all expenses and that it would be a financial boon for Rocky Hill. Not one of these claims was true. Most of the residents in the home are younger than 65 and all freely roam the neighborhood at will. In addition, not only did Rocky Hill not reap any financial benefits, but actually had to pay money to get the monstrosity put in. State and federal funding added up to a grand total of $0. All of this aside, he looks just like Stephen Colbert and that alone is enough to bring your piss to a boil.

Call Massengill's because the douche factor here is off the charts.

Call Massengill’s because the douche factor here is off the charts.

Excluding Alaska and Hawaii, I’ve been to every part of this country. Not one place I’ve seen is more boring and irritating than Connecticut. Everyone has stories about bad local drivers, but a Connecticut driver is more dangerous than a live grenade. Every time I leave the driveway I take my pathetic life in my hands. Even the landscape here is boring as hell. If you’re into oak trees, leaves, and small rocks everywhere, I guess you’d enjoy it but otherwise, a nature walk in Connecticut is like a sleeping pill. We have no real mountains, no interesting plant life, no wild animals that aren’t gray/brown, and waves so tiny that Bridget the Midget couldn’t surf on them. Hell, Bridget the Midget’s pet hermit crab would be too big for the waves here. Everything is just really muted and toned down so it’s as monotonous and numb as possible.

Despite the lack of surfing, palm trees, and water that doesn’t look like brown sludge, Connecticut beaches put you in danger of permanent impotence. For a state that’s supposedly so progressive, many of the people are quite prudish. Don’t expect to go to the beach and see attractive women in bikinis. If you do see any, they’re bound to have those wraps around them blocking the view of anything below the waist. Older obese women however seem to revel in exposing their bodies here. For that reason, I never go to a Connecticut beach during the summer as I already have enough disturbing images permanently burned into my retinas to last eleven lifetimes.

Food in Connecticut also sucks ass. None of the good chains will come here. Whataburger, Waffle House, Carl’s Jr, Village Inn, Hardees, Bob Evans, Jack in the Box, Shoney’s, Captain D’s, H Salt Esquire, Rax, Del Taco, Taco Maker, Firehouse Subs, Which Wich, Krystal, White Castle, Culver’s, Taco John’s, Chicken Express, and nearly any other restaurant that sells palatable food won’t touch this state with a 100 foot pole. It’s the only state in the country where Krispy Kreme (we’re down to just one in a casino and it sucks) and Quizno’s weren’t profitable because everyone here likes to eat the poor excuse for food that Subway and Dunkin Donuts provide. Whenever I tell people in other regions that these are the 2 most popular restaurants where I come from gawk at me in disbelief and then laugh. A Subway sandwich has so little meat it couldn’t satisfy a vegan and a typical cup of coffee from Dunkin Donuts looks and smells like a discharged enema and tastes about half as good.

Everything that was ever going to happen in Connecticut already did – 300 years ago. You may not be able to get a decent bite to eat anywhere or do something entertaining enough to keep your pulse going, but you’ll never want for antique shops. The whole state is infested with them like some kind of disease-ridden insect. This state is so stuck in the past that people rejoice over the muster taking place. If you don’t know what a muster is, you’re one lucky bitch/bastard.

Basically, a muster is a bunch of people walking around in fruity outfits with even fruitier hats playing shitty music, if you can even call it that. They play fifes and beat away at drums and every tune they play sounds exactly the same as the one that preceded it. Some of the participants don’t even play an instrument; they just push fake cannons around and grin like they’ve been pumped full of morphine. When the muster comes to town, you can’t get a parking space anywhere or make it through a road to get away because they’re so clogged with people standing around scratching and their asses, hanging their mouths open, and gawking in amazement at the mundane scene before them.

The most frequent answer I get when I ask people why they bother going to the muster and why they think it’s so great is that it’s a good opportunity to get shitfaced. What nobody seems to realize is that you don’t need hundreds of people in stupid costumes playing music that makes you envy the deaf to get drunk. All you need is some beer. You’d better make sure you get it early though, because if you don’t get to the liquor store within about 10 minutes after your work day ends, you won’t be getting in at all. After all, everyone is in bed by 8 right?

Aside from the Whalers, Connecticut has never had a significant professional level sports team. I hate hockey to begin with, but all of the Whalers nostalgia makes me hate it even more. They’ve been gone for 20 years, but you still see people stumbling about in Whalers merchandise wherever you go. The Whalers theme song was “Brass Bonanza” and is by far the worst anthem any team has ever had. It makes the 1985 Bears “Super Bowl Shuffle” look like a masterpiece. Look it up and play it on youtube if you don’t believe me. Though the team is gone, you can still hear this song playing nearly anywhere you go in Connecticut if you wait around long enough. They’ve been gone for 20 years. Get over it already.

Nobody who doesn’t live in Connecticut ever comes here except for people who are passing through to get to another state. The state tourism board seems to realize this and has recently started a new ad campaign to try to draw more people in to visit. Anyone who doesn’t already know how miserable CT is would be deterred by the commercials the tourism board runs. These commercials tend to show shots of rivers, grass, trees, and an occasional old building. They all end with the tagline “Connecticut: Still Revolutionary.” Once again, they have to dig back to the 1700s to think of anything even remotely exciting about this state. The fact that this campaign was even created, let alone the fact that it made it to the public eye makes you wonder if the state tourism board consists entirely of profoundly retarded wasps. By wasps I don’t mean Anglo-Saxons, I mean literal wasps.

One time a wasp crawled into my bed and stung me 4 times before I managed to find it under the sheets and kill it. When it comes to life in Connecticut, that’s about as good as it gets.

 

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