As a man who sometimes needs to buy golf balls or pants suitable for calling on clients, I find myself being forced up the hill for those purchases.

Why is that?

Here are a few reasons:

16% of our town’s residents have a bachelor’s degree or better.

The mill, which some continue to prop up like a corpse we pretend is still alive, ain’t coming back.

To sustain an average BMI of 47, we’ve got about that many fried chicken purveyors.

Your neighbors lawn that never gets mowed? Probably a rental.

What sane human being with half a brain and four nickels to rub together would say “yep, I’m moving to this dying husk of a town where the hoosier outnumbers the average man by 7:1”?

The terminally dumb have outbred the exceptional in town and all that are left are playing violin on the deck of the Titanic.

Buy some pillows, I’m on my ass over here.

- Mike