I was never so glad to see the Welcome to California sign and asked if I had any fruits and vegetables. The only fruit I smuggled in was myself. This echoes one of the cliche' things I heard ad nauseum about my living in the land of fruits and nuts. There were presumptive "facts" spewed at me about my life out there where they boink on the beaches and have daily orgies. Gee, I sure wanted to know where this place is, sounds like fun. But alas, these presumptions are coming from people who have never even set foot in my home state.
But since I wanted to go out one weekend evening to a local gay club in the Springs, it was notable the picket sign holding bunch at the driveway took a picture of my license plate as I drove in.
I found this interesting. A bar patron asked me if that happened, and explained this was Focus on Other People's Family collection of information. According to this person, I'm now on their "people going to hell" list.
Truly my experiences there with the antediluvian "conservatives", including the one who shot his wife to death then commited suicide two doors down on my brief visit did make things interesting if nauseating. The hateful bumper stickers on hundreds of oversized pick-em-up trucks, and one who even scratched mostly illegible Obama-hate into the paint on his tailgate did not cease to astound. I could hardly find radio station I could stomach. country-god-country-top40-country-god-country.
I was glad to conclude the business with my parents demise and leave the area behind in my rear view mirror.