If I had a choice between living in California and having my testicles dipped in boiling oil, I'd... I'd LIVE IN CALIFORNIA, of course. I might not like it, but it beats the boiling oil idea.
California has all kinds of things wrong with it. Take this story for example. (I can't get the link to show up right. What the hell... this is a California blog. It's GONNA be strange.) Florida gets the occasional sinkhole that may swallow a dog or a small car, but California will DESTROY YOUR HOUSE by either sucking it underground or throwing it off a mountain. That's spooky.
Plus, California has earthquakes, wildfires, mudslides and Barbara Boxer. That's spooky, too.
I set foot in California once in my life. I crossed the street in Stateline, Nevada just to get to the California side. Then, I went right back where I came from to gamble at blackjack. I figured I was safer at the gaming table than I was in California.
California has more nut-logs, granola-crunchers, tree-huggers, communist swine, air-headed politicians, SUV-haters, gun-grabbers, whacked-out environmentalists, howling moonbats and pompous asses than any other state in the union. California doesn't like smoking, either, so piss on 'em for that, too.
Hell, if I tried it I might like it. But it's going to take boiling oil to make me do it.
