The original working title for this essay was originally going to be called, “Absence of Alice”, however, considering I’m halfway through an Archaeology class this term, and I didn’t want a general confusion to erupt, with the one or two people who might actually read this sitting there, scratching their heads, and wondering out loud, “Uh, who’s ‘Alice’? Do I need to call the police?”…that was shelved, in favor of this obviously more-boring, yet quasi-professional title.
I was reading an article from the Speed TV site, “Where have all of the Southern drivers gone?”, from a few days ago, and it got me to thinking just a bit. My going into ‘thinking’ mode usually involves an arrest, life-threatening injuries, a smashed box of Twinkies, and an unhappy child somewhere in Florida, so I warned my family to put on their ‘Dear God, Dad is thinking again!’ body armor, we primed the indoor fire sprinkler system, they ran to the basement, I sat down to my computer, put my hands on the keyboard, turned my head away as if the keyboard was going to explode in my face, and I began typing this.
While the author of that article throws around a few salient observations, she completely misses the point in such a way that it makes the captain of the doomed Exxon Valdez appear as if he had a mild ‘whoops!’ when he somehow missed the entire coastline of Alaska sitting there right in front of him: The dirty little secret is that the France Cartel has been attempting to weed the ‘South’ out of NASCAR for quite some time…but they’re still milking this geographic area for all it’s worth. Follow me a bit as I attempt to explain the logic behind my reasoning.