Much like cold sores on a college campus, the love of MCs has spread across this frat house of a nation. My friend and fellow MC lover, Joel, recently brought this infographic to my attention:
Take a minute to soak this all in.
No no, take your time, there are at least 50 states up there.
Okay, so a few disturbing trends:
THE WALMART BELT
Public spaces where people congregate and “hang out” are generally the types of places you’d imagine seeing someone from across the room, maybe even having a few words of dialogue, and then later being retroactively ballsy/desperate enough to write a MC. In most of the South and Midwest, it seems the hip joint where all the cool cats go after work and before re-runs of Cops is…WalMart. For anyone who’s seen People of WalMart, you know there’s a lot of connections to be missed.
This woman, for example, was caught building a meth lab on a WalMart shelf in Oklahoma. I imagine that MC would read something like:
M 4 W —
Hey girl i saw you down aisle 5 next to the economy sized bleach cookin up some meth, and some love in my hart. i cant stop thinking about the way you mixed those household chemicals into a highly addictive, brain-sizzling, life-ruining substance. i’m interested in chemistry too, and i think i have sum with you. you didnt stop until the cops came and dragged you out–i love a woman with confidence. let me know if you want to get freaky through the glass pane of a supervised room during visiting hours.
So either Georgia doesn’t have WalMarts, or (more likely) they are so far away from where humans live that more time is spent in the car driving to and fro. Or all the retirees driving through Georgia on their way to Gated RV Community, FL are undressing each other with their eyes in a last-ditch attempt to check “swinging” off of their bucket lists. Which is actually really dangerous, because RVs are like road whales, and you’re probably going pretty fast. Senior Citizens: Stop. Eye-fucking. While. Driving.
I mean, I know Rhode Island is small, but goddammit you guys–parking lots? Is every MC written by a bored suburban teenager, or someone who fell in love with a member of their rival gang’s family and can only express themselves through dance?
Utah –> Brigham Young University –> Mormons. I once worked with a woman who told me she had gone to BYU to find a husband. She has a doctorate and is the Executive Director of an international non-profit.
I’ll let Aaron elaborate on that.
But the most disturbing trend, by far, is…
I had to look at Indiana a few times before finally accepting what it actually says. “Athome”? It could be a really hip bar. No, maybe it’s “at ho, me.” Dear God, it really just is “at home.” And because I don’t like incest, I wanted to assume the best: Indiana is full of people looking for themselves. It’s really just an Existentialist State, where most people lounge at home in pools of ennui, wondering whether they really exist at all, and whether it even matters anymore.
And then I went to the Indianapolis MC list and found this:
Mail Carrier – m4w – 29 (Noblesville)