Stowe, Vermont. You know I've been coming to this town each April now for 43 years to enjoy the brisk mountain air, the quaintly 19th century feel of the houses, the warm and inviting smiles of the residents, the lure of the local cuisine and the overall inner peace it offers visitors like me.
One cannot resist the urge to comeback to this splendid little settlement. However, I have, in my 44th visit, suddenly found myself becalmed in a pond of disenchantment for I believe that this place has grown a little too tedious for me.
Alas, I can no longer walk into the home made sweet shop and converse amiably with the shopkeeper about the weather and growing daffodils. In fact to do so would invite open hostility from me and I would more than likely tell the good man to fuck off.
For this cute corner of paradise has finally given me the shits and I can no longer stand the sickly sweet but obviously fake smiles of the empty headed people who live here. These morons who pretend to be model American citizens are subtly working their evil craft on all newcomers in order to empty their hip pockets of their last Yankee dollar. The people of Stowe are nothing more than well trained monkeys and I can no longer stand their insides.
So, in keeping with the spirit of this article, I will now walk over to the nearest souvenir shop and scream loudly to the owner " I hate you and never want to see you bastards again."