I’m new to GPS, and dang, it’s science fiction to me. What’ll they think of next?
MARCH 29, 2022
Leaving Madison and consulting my reliable paper atlas, the first night’s hotel in Sioux Falls, SD, looked like it would be easy to find, so I just input “Sioux Falls, SD” for the GPS. It got me there, beeping along the way, which freaked me out. After a few hours I decided it was beeping because the speed limit had changed. Dang, this thing is smart!
My first major disappointment on the trip was that I had to welcome myself to Minnesota. There’s usually a big cheerful sign when you cross a state line, “Welcome to Utah, pour out your Coca-Cola at the next rest stop please,” or “Welcome to Rhode Island” and then an hour later, “Come back to Rhode Island.” When Interstate-90 took me into Minnesota, there was no sign, and it took me a few miles to figure out that, after 18 years, I’d left Wisconsin.
I’ll never be back, probably, and that’s a sadness, but life goes on and so does the freeway.
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John the Basket promised I’d enjoy the scenery, but so far it’s mostly dull flatlands and Conoco stations. There was one stretch of modern windmills, maybe more than I’ve ever seen all bunched together as far as I could see north to south. That was a sight I’m glad I saw. Most of the rest, a post card would be too much.
Nothing to hear, either. The radio stations are usually gone in half an hour, and 40% are country, 40% are Christian, and about half the rest are NPR. Found an oldies station that plays, apparently, only oldies from the 1950s — none of that newfangled Beatles stuff, or anything that came after. That was nice, for 45 minutes, and then it turned to static as the old Chevy rolled along.
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My hotel in Sioux Falls was a cinch to find. And I learned something about my GPS — if you input a city, but don’t input an address, it selects a random intersection and calls it Sioux Falls, SD. As I left the hotel to get a sandwich and later a tank of gas — both very visible places so I didn’t use the GPS — it was still telling me to turn left here, turn right here, to get back to the sacred intersection it believes to be Sioux Falls, SD.
Sure, I could click it off, but it’s amusing, for me if not for you.
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This essay is a rush job, by the way. It’s more something for me to type than something for you to read. I’m banging keys in the early morning, slowly waking my mind up, waiting for the sun to rise because I’m too damned old to drive the Interstate while it’s still dark.
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Stayed at the Center Inn in Sioux Falls, which says it’s conveniently located across the street from the city’s biggest hospital. More accurately, it’s part of the hospital. I won’t swear to this cuz it’s rude to stare, but my impression from walking to and from my car and glancing into first-floor rooms, is that at least some of the guests are patients of the hospital, sleeping across the street because it’s quieter and nurses don’t intrude all night.
Across the street there’s a huge building that announces itself as, “Surgery Center of South Dakota.” Yeah, and the sandwich shop said their ham hoagy was the best in Sioux Falls. Both claims might be true, but maybe not worth bragging about.
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On the trash can outside the hotel’s side door was a pizza box, which I lifted to drop my sammich wrapper in, and noticed that the box was full of pizza. A complete pizza, sliced and boxed, uneaten.
Per the receipt taped to the box, it was pizza from the day before. Someone must’ve ordered it delivered to the hotel, but didn’t answer the phone or buzzer when the driver got there. “Here’s your pizza — bye.”
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Far be it from no-income me to judge other people on their poverty, but several times at the hotel in Sioux Falls, I trekked from my room to the parking lot, to get something from my car — cat litter, soda, a comb after my shower, etc — and every time, the car parked next to mine had the engine running and someone in the driver’s seat. This happened at approx 7PM, 9PM, 4AM, 5AM, 6AM. It’s a guy living in his car, and parked in the motel’s lot.
At 7AM as I drove away, he was shaving his face with an electric razor, and we waved at each other. Free wi-fi in the parking lot. Seems like a plan.
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It’s a genuine mom & pop hotel, the Center Inn. I met Mom checking in, and Pop checking out, and they’re old enough to be Grandma and Grandpa. Took two donuts from the complimentary spread for breakfast, and they were really, really good. Bet those donuts came from a mom & pop bake shop.
All my overnight stops for this trip came from momandpophotels.com, which is a dusty and outdated site, but still invaluable and recommended by me. It doesn’t seem to be monetized, so I believe they believe in what they’re doing.
Why people would want to sleep in the same building in different cities I do not know, but that’s all a chain hotel is — the same building in hundreds of different cities. You might as well eat every meal at McDonald’s, too.
So far for me on this trip, every meal and bed has been non-corporate. The gas stations, of course, offer no such choice.
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My second day on I-90 took me and the yowling cat across South Dakota and into Wyoming, with welcome signs at both borders. You reading this, Minnesota?
Half an hour after leaving Sioux Falls came my favorite billboard of the journey so far — ad for an auto body shop, typical picture of a tow truck, a phone number to call, but something was wrong, and figuring out what took a few seconds.
The tag line at the bottom of the sign said, “24-hour toe service,” t-o-e, and I’m 99.9% certain it wasn’t a joke.
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Peed at a rest stop in SD where the sink was very heavily splattered with blood. “This was no boating accident.”
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No offense, South Dakota, and I wasn’t really there for the scenery, but nothing along I-90 caught my eye except the thousands of billboards. Must’ve been fifty of them screaming that that abortion is murder (it’s not), and countless billboards and signs telling me to obey God.
I say, fuck no.
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When I was a kid on our camping vacations, the family rode this same stretch of I-90 in a station wagon, and I remember being fascinated by the hundreds of signs starting hundreds of miles away, advertising Wall Drug.
Originally, it was a drug store, but eventually it grew into a town-sized tourist attraction. There are countless signs for Wall Drug along the freeway, starting hundreds of miles from the place.
For the first fifty signs or so, the adult Doug thought I might stop at Wall Drug, but after the next few hundred billboards and signs it lost any appeal and I drove right past both exits for the place.
Firehouse Brewery also has a great many signs. One of them claimed Firehouse was South Dakota’s first brewery, which smells false, but it’s gotta be the state’s most obnoxious. I would guesstimate that I passed 100 Firehouse Brewery billboards, and parked beside each billboard is an antique fire engine. Yes, a real one.
After passing the town the brewery is in, there were another hundred billboards facing traffic from the other direction, each with a fire engine parked beside it.
A couple of hundred signs and a couple of hundred old fire engines costing at least hundreds, maybe thousands of dollars each. Does that money make the beer taste better, though? How could the owner possibly not be a trust-fund asshole?
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I’m typing this from the Occidental Hotel in downtown Buffalo, Wyoming, where I stayed on my trip’s second night. It’s a great place.
The hotel has been here since 1880-something, with guests including Buffalo Bill Cody, Teddy Roosevelt, Calamity Jane, and now me and my yowling cat. I don’t think the building has ever been remodeled, but that’s a good thing, and the rates are reasonable cuz it’s off-season, but it’s a little cold — there’s no built-in heat, just a fancy space heater. Good wi-fi, though.
Everyone says the attached Busy Bee Diner serves a good breakfast. Will I eat there? Probably not. They don’t open until 7AM — sunrise — and I want to be on the highway by then.
I’m halfway to Seattle. Today we’ll see how my ancient Chevy feels about climbing the Rocky Mountains. I already know how the cat feels about it — yowl.
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And now, my internet history from yesterday, minus the porn…
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Meet the bike man who brought the DC trucker convoy to a crawl
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DeSantis signs Florida’s “Don’t Say Gay” bill into law
Disney, which owns Florida and could have prevented this, now promises to do too little too late to help.
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About 20% of Americans believe the central tenets of QAnon
PRRI fielded a set of three questions in four different surveys over the course of 2021, measuring agreement or disagreement (completely agree, mostly agree, mostly disagree, or completely disagree) with foundational QAnon beliefs:
1. The government, media, and financial worlds in the U.S. are controlled by a group of Satan-worshipping pedophiles who run a global child sex-trafficking operation.
2. There is a storm coming soon that will sweep away the elites in power and restore the rightful leaders.
3. Because things have gotten so far off track, true American patriots may have to resort to violence in order to save our country.
Combining data from these four surveys offers a comprehensive look at QAnon beliefs. Across the four surveys, around one in five Americans mostly or completely agree that there is a storm coming (22%), that violence might be necessary to save our country (18%), and that the government, media, and financial worlds are controlled by Satan-worshipping pedophiles (16%).
Those percentages are actually a little lower than I’d expected — call it good news?
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How to live life like your favorite writers
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The gripping origin story of the world’s greatest blow-job machine
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One-word newscast, because it’s the same news every time…
• Fox News
• homelessness
• Republicans • Republicans
• Trump
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♫♬ Sing along with Doug ♫
Overture, opening credits, and first scene
from Star Trek: The Motion Picture,
by Jerry Goldsmith
3/29/2022
Cranky Old Man is annoyed and complains and very occasionally offers a kindness, along with anything off the internet that’s made me smile or snarl. All opinions fresh from my ass. Top illustration by Jeff Meyer. Click any image to enlarge. Comments & conversations invited.
Tip ‘o the hat to All Hat No Cattle, Linden Arden, ye olde AVA, BoingBoing, Breakfast at Ralf’s, Captain Hampockets, CaptCreate’s Log, John the Basket, LiarTownUSA, Meme City, National Zero, Ran Prieur, Voenix Rising, and anyone else whose work I’ve stolen without saying thanks.
Extra special thanks to Becky Jo, Name Withheld, Dave S., and always Stephanie…
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