Illinois and Indiana seem to have a running competition to see who can charge the most money for using the Interstate System.  They have a ways to go to catch New Jersey or even Delaware for that matter, but at least you do get to break up your drive with convenient stops every 10 minutes to dig out more cash.

They don’t even have attendants manning the cash booths anymore – just bill feeders, coin slots and credit card readers – thus depriving the traveler of having someone to take their frustrations out on in the form of snarky comments to people who have no control over it anyway.  It literally is highway robbery, automated though it may be.

To take further advantage of the hold they have over the captive commuters, there is additional toll one must pay if they choose to exit in the middle of nowhere.

They have thoughtfully arranged little pockets of commerce on the expressways called “Oases”, where there is a hefty surcharge tacked onto the already overpriced food and fuel.  And, the food joints were all contracted out to Hardee’s.  I mean, please…Hardlee’s.  The one place no one even thinks of when trying to name as many fast food places as they can think of.

Then, to top it off, in case, somehow, don’t ask me how, you manage to have a couple of coins left in your possession they have installed a vending machine full of plastic, Chinese-slave-labor-made crap then dress it up with a cute clown that. no kid could resist…

Good luck not having nightmares about this

It is not at all scary-as-all-fuck-you-plaything-of-the-devil’s-nephew looking at all. Am I right?

But, just in case you find yourself in need of a quick exorcism, Notre Dame is just up the street.  I always wondered what the schools full name was, but never remembered to look it up.  I mean, Notre Dame is French for “Our Lady”.  The Catholics are big on Our Ladies, but it is usually followed by a qualifier.  In this case, it is Notre Dame du Lac. French for, “Our Lady of the Lake.”

Which made me think of the good ol’ days of my adolescence,  back before ubiquitous Internet pornography was even a dream.  We pubescent yutes (excuse me….yoooutthhs) had to get creative and resourceful if we wanted to see a nekkid woman. I mean, we were known to drawn some boobs on a brown paper lunch sack with a green Crayola and be left thinking, “Still counts”.

The Land O Lakes Butter cartons were like High-Res virtual reality simulators, not unlike the Hollow Deck from your Star Trek TNG. (pic related)

I’m still not clear on the Fighting Irish thing.

I haven’t been doing much sightseeing, been on a beeline to Trixie. But, since she left town this morning, I may slow my pace.