My despair knows many names...

And today it hails as "Kansas." The mind-numbing traverse across this government-subsidized expanse of land is not fun. Quite the antithesis of fun, actually. If only the scenery was as sweet as the high-fructose corn syrup that has its provenance in the petrochemical laden soils here. If only the views were as rich as the feedlot beef that are tenderly fattened on the delectable edibles (read: raw materials) reaped from these monocultural acres. Then Kansas would be a sight to behold -- a veritable paradise. Instead, it's a big, gray eye-sore, through which I reluctantly trudge. In fact, the only two factors allowing me to persevere, rather than abort my mission, are: 1) I know that great Southern sandstone and motivated partners lie on the other side, and 2) I have been assured by knowledgeable Kansans (via billboard) that abortion will lead to my inexorable damnation. So I choose life instead.