Oh my sweet Carolina

From my favorite Weekly:

I answered an ad for a job as a data-entry clerk at a faith-based charity, but I stopped filling out the application when it said I could not work there unless I signed a "statement of faith," affirming that I had evangelical Christian beliefs. Isn't this religious discrimination? -- Janet Lama, Charlotte, N.C.

I haven't spent much time in the south, but one of the few places I've been was Raleigh, North Carolina. It was for my stepaunt's wedding, which featured a "pig pickin." The wedding celebration was in a single-story community center in a residential neighborhood. They set up the smoker in the front yard, and everyone pulled pork from the whole pig, like some kind of post-apocalyptic feeding frenzy, but with an abundance of delicious sauce.

At some point I got upset about something. I was in high school so I was probably mad that I wasn't allowed to listen to my Walkman during the wedding toasts, or whatever people in high school get mad about. I went outside to get away from "my fucking family who don't know anything about anything," and ended up sitting against a streetlamp across the street. A man came out of his house and asked what I was doing. I said that I was just sitting there. I told him that I had come outside to get some air, and pointed to the community center across the street. "Well," he said, "you better get back where you came from." I would like to say that I murdered this man and burned his house down, but I just straightened my tuxedo t-shirt, gave him the finger in my mind, and went back to the party to drown my anger in barbecue.

I guess my point is fuck North Carolina. Fuck evangelical Christians. Fuck data-entry clerks. Fuck filling out applications. Fuck "statements of faith." And obviously, fuck you. I'LL SIT WHEREVER I WANT, SOUTH.