I found myself at the Wal-Mart in Kernersville tonight, and I overheard this skanky 45-year-old redneck guy with long hair, a rebel flag belt buckle, and about three teeth talking about how someone “was fussin’ at me on the Yahoo chat because of some girl who posted a picture on my MySpace page and wanted to be my friend.”
My inner elitist shed a little tear for the wasted potential of the internet. Then I got over it and bought some eggs.
