OMGJeremy

Guide to Indiana: God, Babies, and Country

In the heart of Midwestern America, there lies a state so sinister in nature, so boring in appearance, and so utterly vile in stench, that it defies all ordinary human logic. All of this nation’s interstate highway systems run through it, and almost everyone has heard its name spoken with traces of dread, or maybe even disgust, in the speaker’s voice. Millions of disturbingly normal people call it home, but even their normalcy is almost TOO normal to be considered normal. In fact, it is that kind of normal that both shocks and horrifies anyone who can pause to think and reflect on what they’ve just seen. It’s the kind of normal that loves God, children, and the USA a little TOO much to be considered healthy, if you know what I mean. As I am sure you are well aware by the title of this article, I am leading up to revealing that it is Indiana that I am typing about right now.

What you will see for the next 18 hours straight.

I have been through Indiana countless times. I have actually stopped in it as a destination twice, through no fault of my own. And believe me, brothers and sisters, it was not my big idea to do so. I was a victim of circumstance. However, because I had to travel through it on each and every journey from Ohio to Wisconsin and back, I have gathered enough experience with the IN state to be able to write a factual and informative piece that would be worthy for any issue of National Geographic. Yes, today I will venture into the slick and fancy world of the photo-journalist, capturing the heart and spirit of a distant land (unless you live there) while offering truths and temptations for any potential tourist. Only, I have not taken any pictures of the place, so I will walk in the footsteps of those noble artists of yesteryear who used to make engravings for the newspapers, before they had cameras. Except instead of “engraving” I shall use MSPaint. You will all be equally as impressed though, I assure you.

Indiana: Not Really a Nice Place to Visit; No One Wants to Live There. Oooh, Burn!

Indiana is an ancient Indian word meaning “vast region of stinky flatness ill-favored by the gods,” and that word could be no closer to the truth. That is, unless the Indians also had a word that meant that, as well as “home of much maize and many, many NASCAR fans.” It is a terrible sight to behold, this state, and I am here today to tell you all about it, since you obviously want great amounts of education to be crammed down your throats in a highly entertaining fashion, or at least a marginally entertaining fashion, if you are the type who has semi-sophisticated tastes.

So, you know how all of the states have little “nicknames,” for lack of a better word. There’s the Buckeye State, and the Golden State, and the Keystone State and so on and so forth. Well, Indiana is “the Hoosier State.” That’s right. And Indianians are called “Hoosiers.” You may wonder what exactly a Hoosier is and I will tell you the story that I heard, even though it is probably completely not true. But it IS true that I heard it somewhere! Also, if you are honestly interested, please feel free to look up the information on your own. Do not let me stand in your way.

Originally, I had heard that way back when, when pioneers were traveling through Indiana but not settling because they had the uncanny sense that they did not want their progeny to be called Hoosiers, people would call out to each others covered wagons and say “who’s your state?” That was pioneer talk for “where are you from?” This leads me to believe that all pioneers might have been a little lacking in the cerebrums. OR, possibly, that this story isn’t factual. If indeed this is the case, then several years of judging the people of Indiana harshly because of their intrepid ancestors failing to ask where a person is from in a way that doesn’t make me irritated, has gone to waste and I would ALMOST feel sorry. “Almost” simply because no matter how you look at it, “Hoosier” is one of the stupidest looking words I’ve ever seen.

States also have “slogans.” Ohio, for example, is the Heart of it All. Indiana, in contrast, is known as “the Crossroads of America.” Nice one, Indiana. It’s like they are publicly admitting to the entire world that they realize that people just pass through their state. That Indiana is just that place you have to go through when you are going from here to there. Many states are passed through every single day, of course, but Indiana is unique in that it appears to border almost every other state in the continental United States. Driving from Michigan to Mississippi? You’ll go through Indiana. Going from Tennessee to Illinois? Lucky you – there’s Indiana. Starting in Louisiana and heading off to your destination in North Dakota? You poor bastard, that’s 9 hours of drive time being utterly submerged in Indiana. Even if you are driving from Texas to California, you can go ahead and assume that you’ll do some time in Indiana. There’s really no way around it. It’s shaped in such a way that you pretty much have to drive through at least some portion of it if you are engaged in some interstate travel. It’s one of those unpleasant facts of life, like pets dying and homes burning.

Here is a realistic map of the United States as seen through the eyes of any traveler. Those blue lines are our amazing interstate highway system: best in the world!

Indiana: the State of a Thousand Smells – None of Which Are Good

While you are speeding through Indiana, trying to make decent time and getting that hefty leg of your journey under your belt, you may notice certain aromas lingering in the air. And I am putting it mildly there because in actuality, you won’t help but notice the gut-wrenching hell odors which punch you square in the nose. And they strike without warning, too. One moment, you will be breathing the scent of your car’s interior quite easily, and the next moment, you will be swerving all over the road as you wonder how it is possible that you are driving through a gigantic, invisible rectum belonging to a dairy cow. Or, you may be struggling with the horrors of a sizable horse farm when suddenly the scent changes to that of a colossal chicken facility. For those of you who haven’t gotten to whiff a festering metal structure filled to bursting with shitting chickens, let me tell you that it is distressing to smell. And also, if you drive along I-65 on a hot summer day, you are bound to find it, just as you are bound to find the overwhelming power of the stretch of road commonly known as the Nine Minutes of Pig Shit.

I imagine that a lot of these odors come from the manure that the farmers spray on the crops which they grow. Farmers make money harvesting these crops… crops which are used to feed you and me. I understand that many of you suburban kids have lost touch with your rural roots, so let me say this more clearly: stinking animal poop makes our food strong and healthy. Farmers liquefy this manure and spray it over their farmland. Farms are often near the interstate highways, and hot weather makes the stench so much more palpable.

I can't draw smells all that well, so I decided to just show their effect on the average motorist.

Did you know that Indiana is 97% farmland? Did you know that Indiana enjoys an ungodly hot summertime for 8 months out of the year, the other four months bringing only blizzards and ice storms which render the interstates useless? What a fun state this is!

Speaking of the weather, it should be mentioned that Indiana has more tornado deaths than any other state. This is because quite a few people actually live in Indiana for some reason, probably because it is reasonably near civilization, unlike Kansas and those other states commonly mistaken to be so dangerous. Also, some genius decided to build Indianapolis, the second largest city in the middle of the US next to Chicago, right in the path of the infamous Tornado Alley. Good going.

Indianians (I refuse to call them Hoosiers) enjoy a four season year. Summer brings dangerously high temperatures, violent thunderstorms, painfully high humidity, and stinking bloating death. Winter gives deep snow, frequent ice attacks, and sub arctic temperatures which freeze the Homeless to the sidewalks. Spring and autumn last for about two weeks each, the former releasing frightening amounts of pollen and flowers, the latter releasing harmful mold spores and pumpkins. Really, it is pretty typical of all Midwestern states, only with far more storm-destruction and hollering from the locals.

Indianapolis: We Got Yer NASCAR Right HEEEERE! *gestures*

Mentioned two paragraphs ago, Indianapolis requires a section all its own. Besides being world-renowned as being the Home of OMGJeremy himself, Indianapolis is also a city saturated by that sport of the gods: NASCAR. Make the mistake of traveling through that city when the Indianapolis 500 is happening that weekend. Go on, I dare you. You will never believe the sheer amount of RVs and shattered rusted pick-up trucks choking the roadways. Every single one of them have signs duct taped to them, announcing that their favorite driver will beat all of the other drivers. Many drunken hicks lean out of the windows of their wobbling vehicles, and they are all hooting and cheering as drivers lean on their horns in excitement and jubilation. This is Indianapolis’ shining moment, when it stands tall and proud, reveling in the fact that it is the beacon of redneck festivities. The streets are lined with chewing tobacco that has been spat out. The air is thick with the manly smell of the unwashed. And unfortunate passersby who do not follow the happenings of the NASCAR are stuck in the middle of it all, quietly shaking in fear and knowing all too well that they stick out and may draw the attentions of a truck full of shouting, toothless swamp folk.

Here is a recent picture of that great Midwestern City. If you look closely, you can see Jeremy's house being threatened by the forces of nature!

Indianapolis is a great big city that is very flat and all of the streets are generally on an even grid. This imbues the Indianapolisian Driver with the ability to drive on wide, straight roads, and absolutely no other kind of road. Apparently, years of driving without hills or curves to challenge them makes escaping that city and state very unlikely. It is a dreadfully evil ploy to keep Indiana’s population on the rise, or at least at a steady level. Whenever they do venture away from their flatlands, they become timid drivers who are not at all like the mighty racecar drivers who are continually lauded and thought of as local kings.

Gary, Indiana: the Worst Place on Earth

Up in the northwestern region of the state, there rests a city known as Gary, Indiana. I can say, with no trace of hyperbole, that Gary is the most horrible place in the universe. If New Jersey is the unwashed armpit, Detroit is the dirty asshole, and Las Vegas is the pulsing vagina of America, not only is this nation’s anatomy in a horrifying disarray, but Gary, Indiana, would be the open cancerous sore that glistens with putrid juices on America’s lip. And not the regular kind of cancer that human beings have, but an aggressively infectious sort that threatens to kill everything within a few hundred feet of it.

When you drive through Gary, you instinctively try to hold your breath. Not JUST because the scent of raw sewage is in the air, mixing with toxic chemicals and industrial waste, making an awful smell, but also because you honestly feel like every breath you take is actually shortening your life. Everywhere you look, there are industrial towers bellowing smoke or strangely colored flames. The sky, buildings, grass, and trees are all sickly shades of grey. You instantly feel vaguely suicidal. Imagine living there.

Never stop in Gary, Indiana. I hear they have a pretty bad murder rate, and anyway, it has nothing to offer you besides the Black Lung and probably some sort of skin disease. Just drive as quickly as possible and in no time at all you’ll be in the comparative safe haven of beauty known as Chicago’s South Side. Believe me, even the most dire burned-out districts of Chicago’s death ghettos will look like a bouquet of spring daisies after you’ve been through Gary. At least, they will when it comes to matters of health.

When you get to this part, go as fast as you can and don't look back.

Indiana: the Pro-Life State

On my last trek through that mighty, boring state, I happened to notice that there was no shortage of nagging billboards. There were signs telling me to praise Jesus, and to go to church, and to love babies, and to not have abortions, and to have big families, and to vote Republican no matter what, and to support the USA USA USA oh GOD SUPPORT THE USA! A couple of the more hard-hitting billboards that touched my soul the most have been illustrated below.

Really, every billboard was a variation of this theme. But this one actually renamed Indiana officially.

Yes, surprise, world! Indiana has finally given up the name of “the Hoosier State!” Welcome “the Pro-Life State” to our midst. Heavens. And I thought “Hoosier” was as irritating as it could get. I can’t believe they actually traded in that name for an even WORSE one. At least “hoosier” didn’t give me the creeping terrors and visions of a world where there are no choices and pregnant bellies rule our lives. Instead of the mild disdain I felt for Hoosiers, I now am forced to feel the aching revulsion for Pro-Lifers.

Most of this billboard is 100% accurate compared to the real version. I screamed.

Naturally, since the entire state is devoted to procreation, some smart people decided that they should buy some billboard space and dedicate it to telling people how to not-kill the babies they had to have. Now, I might be being cynical here, but I am of the opinion that if you need a billboard to explain to you how to keep a baby alive… Well, maybe you shouldn’t be having a baby in the first place. It is entirely possible that not everyone who can conceive a child is automatically qualified to raise children. But what am I talking about? I am obviously some Satan-worshiping lunatic heretic wanton Jezebel who spouts only lies and engages only in sin, at least according to the Pro-Life State’s reasoning.

What manner of horror is this?!

Never fear, though. If all of the pro-lifing has got you down, you can take solace in the fact that Indianapolis is the home of the Trunk Monkey! Upon first seeing these billboards, I shrieked in alarm because I though that it was advertising the “Drunk Monkey” who was shown screeching in monkey-rage and heaving some large bulk over his head, possibly a grandma. I was relieved for a second when I realized that he was instead a Trunk Monkey, although I have no idea what a Trunk Monkey is. I was concerned to find that he seems to make his home at a somewhat ramshackle car lot, but I strongly suspect that there is more than just that that should concern me in Indiana.

It’s Taken Me As Long To Write About Indiana As It Takes To Drive Through It

As is the custom, I feel the need to summarize Indiana in all its glory now.

Indiana is an average, faceless Midwestern state in a long line of faceless Midwestern states. Many people would consider this a drawback, but I bet many more of you would take comfort in it. Those of you embroiled in geographical snobbery, and I am no stranger to that myself, may count Indiana as a nothing state that offers only tedium and is good for nothing at all. And in a perfect world where everything is black and white and you can complain ad nauseum until you are blue in the face, that’s exactly what it is. But people have told me that the southern portion of Indiana has rolling hills and an eerie vibe; like the scarecrows are alive and the shadows are a bit darker than in everyday, normal places. A billboard once told me, via a cartoon crow, that “Indiana isn’t JUST corn,” and seemed to suggest that there are beaches along Lake Michigan in the north. The people, although very right wing and puritanical as a whole, are still probably “good people” who want to “do right.” Also, Indiana has an astonishing amount of firework stores, casinos, and adult super stores. That isn’t too uncommon along the interstate highways of most states, but for some reason it surprises me there.

Indiana: the All American State

In closing, what I want you all to take away from this article is that like everything ever in the world, there IS a good side to Indiana. I just haven’t seen it personally.