Daily Archives: June 22, 2011


Tourons is a word I wished I’d made up. But I didn’t. It’s the marriage of tourist and moron and pretty much describes the shit we gotta put up with every summer.

Schools are out and the influx of Tourons is full bore. Like ticks in weeds they’re suddenly frickin’ everywhere.

I was wrestling the dickheads around on our walk the other day when an especially cacophonously dressed crowd of Tourons went by. (What is it about neon and tourons? I mean, really?)

And it got me thinking in broadly stroking generalizations about the Tourons. You know, broad strokes like, as in, Mexicans are REALLY good gardeners? That kinda shit.

Touron Trashing Time.

Sorry, if you don’t want to revel in this, please tune out, OK?

So I was gazing at the cacophonousness and I was all like-Pennsylvania.

Pennsylvania seems to host the most neon covered folks who eat at, like 5 o’clock?, and move in a caravan of vehicles, carefully following one another to their destination and tipping a dollar. Miss Carol knows this- a dollar is a BIG thing to Pennsylvanians.

New York is a huge state full of people but New York is framed and detained by New York City. Zoo Yorkers are amazingly loud and outlandishly friendly IF they like you. Lots of gold chains and fake tans and huge tips. Zoo Yorkers will tip you for weather info.

West Virginians are, like, from another planet? I don’t get them at all.

New Jersey is New York’s quiet little wallflower sister that you maybe don’t want to wake up?

Maine and all those little chilly places north of bum-fuck? You people are brittle and curt. Maybe it’s the constant cold?

Connecticut has the prettiest women I’ve ever seen outside of California. They are ALL scorchingly beautiful. I’m sure there are places where they keep the ugly girls but, hey, the ones visiting and hanging at our beach are drop dead gorgeous.

North Carolina has the best southern accent I know. And everyone looks like they could kill something and cook it up and make it taste good and make it a party doing it.

Hey, we get tourons from all over the world. And ’cause I’m a local, I get to poke fun at y’all. I’ve seen license¬†plates from as far away as Alaska. (Who would drive from Alaska to Va Beach?)(And why?) But you do. And a part of me, the very little cruel part, is glad you do.

‘Cause you Tourons are endlessly entertaining.

I mean, really.