Voyaging as far away from either ocean as you can in the United States of America, you may stumble across Nebraska. We are a simple and proud bunch, after all, we live THE GOOD LIFE.
We may be as bland as the white mom one-note chili cooked by one-note white Midwestern moms, but our non-spiced chili rests against cinnamon rolls that are as sweet as our capabilities as humans. After all, our “ope!” in the break room at Nelnet, or our “You’re fine!” at the shoe aisle at the new Scheels sporting goods store represent our fundamental submissive nature as a region. Even down to the roots of our hog-shit Football program. We’re “Nebraska Nice.” Go ahead and take our free money. We’ll give you a ‘lil knuckle wave from the F150 as we clean the blood out of our buttholes. As long as no DemocRAT disrupts us we’re a-okay.
We are Nebraska. We are proud. We have flaws like anyone else, but we pull ourselves up by our whatever shoes we blindly purchased at the new Scheels sporting goods store. They mailed me a coupon, and their GM was at my church once, might as well give them my business.
Our saving grace is our phallic-shaped Governor, Pete Ricketts. When you aren’t at Cub’s games or focusing on the (rather tired) death penalty issue, or comforting your dweeb son Roscoe after being mugged of whatever the fuck iPhone values at $100. (Pete. Really? Gen 1? WTF?!)
It doesn’t matter. Nebraska is consistent. Nebraska is tradition. Ricketts will be re-elected. Frost will buzz the fair weather fans until next year, and Taco Inn will continue to be “great.”
Nebraska is mediocre at best,
Or we hate ourselves, but we certainly hate you more,
and we hate Iowa even more than that.
Landslide for Trump 2020.
-Nebraska
SmellNebraska.org 