San Diego is Spanish for Saint Doug. But who was Saint Doug?

Saint Doug is the patron saint of 5th grade bullies. Saint Doug watches over these awful, hurtful kids, helping them find weak, nerdy third graders they can beat up by the swing set during recess. When fifth grade bullies need a rock to throw at the smart kid from Mr. Seavers’ class, Saint Doug puts that rock right in the bully’s hand, and guides its arc through the air so that it connects with the back of that dork, possibly even breaking his glasses. Saint Doug loves bullies.

Sadly, the Catholic Church has since disavowed Saint Doug, announcing that maybe the church should not be helping 5th grade bullies get their bullying done in a more efficient manner. But the city of San Diego still loves Saint Doug, and they still love their annual Saint Doug Days festival, where they bus in hundreds of nerds for the population of San Diego to beat the crap out of. Free rocks for mom!

San Antonio is located deep in the heart of Texas. Deep, deep in the heart of Texas. Like, way down in the left ventricle of Texas. Blood that’s been oxygenated by the lungs of Texas (Dallas/Fort Worth) passes directly through San Antonio and out to all corners of Texas.

Even as we speak, millions of gallons of blood are pouring through the streets of San Antonio. San Antonio’s historic River Walk? Nothing but blood. When they say, “Remember the Alamo,” that’s short for “Remember the Alamo is filled with blood, blood, blood.” Blood!

So if the sight of blood makes you squeamish, avoid San Antonio. Heck, avoid all of Texas. Not because of the blood; just on general principle.

Sacramento was founded during the great Gold Rush of 1849, and today, 86% of the population is made up of grizzled old prospectors and their mules (which are also grizzled and old). Even as we speak, most of the city’s residents are sitting around a campfire, waiting for Ol’ Cookie to serve up a batch of beans and sourdough.

As the capital of California, Sacramento had to put up with Arnold Schwarzenegger living there while he was governor. Governor Schwarzenegger constantly walked into the state legislature, announced that he would be back, and then had his entire motorcade drive through the front window. It got old after like, the 200th time, and all that glass was coming right out of the state budget he had sworn to cut. Also: having sex with anything that moved, including Ol’ Cookie. Poor Ol’ Cookie.

Raleigh is located in an area of North Carolina called “The Triangle.” And like the Bermuda Triangle, any aircraft that fly into it simply vanish. Stranger still, the battleship the USS Nimitz disappeared in the Triangle, even though the Triangle is completely landlocked and over 100 miles inland.

What’s going on here? We may never know. None of the investigators who have travelled to Raleigh to get the scoop have come back. No letters, no phone calls, no sexts. Nothing.

Some suspect that Raleigh is located in a wormhole to another dimension–a dimension that spews its weird lifeforms into our universe, which would explain long-time North Carolina senator Jesse Helms.

So if you get sucked into the Triangle, take our advice: go toward the light, Carol-Ann.

Tampa, one of the largest and most boring cities in all of Florida, is home to one of the largest and most boring gatherings ever, the 2012 Republican National Convention. Unless you happen to like endless hours of Congressional candidates from Utah speaking to a half-empty room. Different strokes, we suppose. As in: we just had eight different strokes watching Rick Santorum’s speech last night. What is his obsession with hands?

Tampa didn’t want the Republican National Convention. Oh, sure, the Republicans are saying now that Tampa was asking for it. And if it were a “legitimate” convention, the city of Tampa has ways to try to shut that whole thing down. But they’re not, so clearly it MUST be consensual.

Let’s all hope that someday, cities will say “NO” to the GOP and “no” will mean “no.” Meanwhile, our thoughts go out to you, Tampa.

 

Pittsburgh is located at the confluence of three rivers: the Ohio, the Monongonongmonganongahela, and the other one.

Currently, Pittsburgh is trying to get even more rivers to relocate there, offering the world’s major rivers sweet tax incentives. The Columbia River is scheduled to relocate to Pittsburgh in 2013, with the Thames and the Rhein to follow in 2014. Pittsburgh is set to announce a major trade soon, that will bring the Amazon to western Pennsylvania and send Brazil the Ohio River and some draft picks.

But: Why does Pittsburgh want all these rivers? They have a plan in Pittsburgh. An eeeeeeevil plan. They have caused global climate change in order to make water more precious than gold. Then, they plan on selling the world their water for outrageous sums: one million dollars for a small bottle of Poland Springs! Bwahahahaha!!!

What, when Pittsburgh has all the money in the world, will they do with it? They will attempt to buy their father’s love. And they will fail. Sad, really. But that’s Pittsburgh!

Being a slacker is big business in Portland. The Sitting In A Coffee Shop And Writing Poetry In Your Moleskine industry brings in over $4 billion annually to the region’s economy. Other major industries in Portland include Drinking PBR In A Dive Bar Waiting For Your Boyfriend’s Band To Play, Getting Stoned And Playing Portal 2 Or Some Shit, and Getting A Tattoo Of Some Random-Ass Anime Character Or Something.

Portland is very serious about slacking. Most slackers wear the finest Brooks Brothers 3-piece suits while they ride their unicycles and juggle at the same time. Many drive the latest Jaguar convertibles and Mercedes SUVs to their hackey-sack matches.

And what’s in those hackey-sacks? Krugerands and jewels, my friend. Krugerands and jewels.

Phoenix is the largest city in Arizona, which is kind of like being the King of the Hot Dog On A Stick in your local mall food court. Nobody cares, but: free hot dogs. But but: you look like kind of an idiot wearing a crown with your Hot Dog On A Stick uniform, so maybe stop doing that, you pretentious twat. Jesus, Phoenix.

American history runs through the veins of Philadelphia. It is home of the Liberty Bell, which has an enormous crack in it. Philadelphians say they don’t know how the crack got there, but we’re on to you, Philadelphia. We know you brought the bell to Jamie’s kegger and that everyone was doing shots off it. And we know someone (Jamie) pushed it into the pool. Now, none of these things would have actually cracked the Liberty Bell, but it does show a pattern of behavior. You can’t be trusted with nice things, Philadelphia.

Oklahoma City is a wonderful, vibrant city that is, unfortunately, located right in the middle of the area known as “Tornado Alley.” In fact, it started out as Oklahoma City, Tennessee back in 1887, but was blown across the border into Kentucky in 1903. Since then, Oklahoma City has been located in at least seven states. It has recently adopted the motto “Oklahoma City: I Don’t Think We’re In Kansas Anymore. Unless We Are.”

Of course, tornadoes aren’t Oklahoma City’s weather problem. It’s also located on Golf-Ball Sized Hail Avenue, Level Five Hurricane Lane, and Plague Of Locusts Boulevard. If you’re going to visit Oklahoma City, bring an extra-strong umbrella in case it rains flaming toads, and make sure your suitcase has wheels because a tornado may blow you into Texas or Saskatchewan. Good luck.