

My state has a habit of building houses out of coal. I tried drawling up plans for a 100 percent coal house, but couldn’t figure out the fireplace.
We also build stupid castles built into Hillsides, and the hillsides are higher than the roof, and can be jumped on. One even experienced a Indian attack (who was stupid and attacked it from the lowest possible point).

This one I found driving aimlessly in Ohio, outside of Cincinnati, I was in a dead end neighborhood surrounded by flat farmland, and saw a very steep ravine, as wide as a alley way, I was worried the Jeep would tip over on the drive down… at the very bottom, a castle… I was expecting a trailer with a guy fucking a goat and trash everywhere, but no, it was the most improperly fortified place in America.

I can easily breech either’s defense with a axe, chopping down trees above it, letting them fall. Either roof breaks, or I’m squashing the defenders, and walking the trunk over top.
People just build random stuff. Why? I dunno. And it’s always the biggest, and you can’t prove them wrong otherwise. A town near here has “The World’s Biggest Teapot”

But in China they have one way bigger:

But fuck it, no matter how many times you tell them, or tape a picture of the larger teapot there, they ignore it. Still the biggest teacup. No one knows why we do this, and as the local philosopher, I am at a lost. Pride at having random, stupid architectural points that shouldn’t plausably exist in a sane and rational society.
We have church groups, who cover several surrounding states via van and bus… for hours a few times a year, to visit. Why? For photos, and to eat at a bad diner, serving shit food, then they go back to their uninteresting towns, who have similar stupid buildings. Boring tourists exploring boring places, and you gotta ask, why?
When did this start? Something left over, a distant echo of the old pilgrimage routes in the middle ages, so you can see the chapel of St. Thomist’s Thumb? I dunno. The practice is so widespread, it must be very old. Like Plymouth Rock… a actual rock. I always thought it was just a name… no, you go there, some guy will dress like a Pilgrim and tell you about a fucking rock like it’s the best thing in the universe.

Look at how excited that bitch is. CHANGED HER LIFE.
I dunno, should my heart surge with patriotic joy while I hum the national anthem looking at it? Fucking rock… yet, something compels me to look, like I just accomplished something amazing, tell people about decades from now.