Late last summer when my step daughter was visiting with her Herbie husband (they line in Stincoln), we avoided the nearby Big Red Grill. However, returning from a sightseeing trip, I let him choose the next place to eat, since he wasn't impressed with the high falutin' places we'd taken him to. He asked me to take an exit, then directed me to a truck stop diner. I **** you not. Well, he was in heaven when we walked in and it was all red. Nub football was all he could think and talk about.
We left without me getting too nasty, when half way home we were passing a red Chevy POS sedan with Oregon vanity plats to the tune of HUSKERS. Oh, he was excited, and the helmet decal had him giddy. "Catch up, I want to give them a thumbs up!" he said. "It's just going to be a meth head or some fat cow, relax," I replied. He gave me a dirty look, then turned his attention to the car we were pulling even with. She was probably in her mid twenties and every bit bit of three hun - maybe tree fiddy! Classic!
The next day we watched the bug eaters stink it up on TV. He truly doesn't understand my disdain of that **** hole state, which only feeds the fire.