According to the “Twilight” books (which we here at Disalmanac use as our chief reference on all topics), the state of Washington is the home of vampires. Sparkly, annoying teenage vampires. Oh, and they’re all handsome, telepathic and, for some reason, they collect expensive vintage automobiles? Sure, why not?

Oh, and they’re super-fast, too? Sure. Just like in Bram Stoker’s classic book “Super-Speedy, Sparkly, Annoying-Ass Dracula WHo’s All Mopey Because It Rains All The Fucking Time, Jesus, Who Does He Think He Is, Fucking Morrissey Or Some Shit? Lord.”

So, if you visit Washington state, please kick some scrawny, emo vampire butt for us. Thank you for your attention in this matter.

The Disalmanacarian was only seven years old when North and South Dakota separated. We didn’t understand it–didn’t they still love each other? Sometimes, they explained, two US states have to be apart for awhile.

We stayed with North Dakota at home during the week, and got to see South Dakota at its new place every weekend. It was a small, cramped apartment. The place was a mess. Dirty dishes were everywhere. We usually just ended up watching TV the whole time.

Then one weekend, we went to South Dakota’s place and there was another state there. This is Idaho, he said. She’s going to be your new mommy! We ran crying from the room and wanted to go back home.

Of course, now that the Disalmanacarian is older, we understand, and we’re very close to both Dakotas, Idaho, and Manitoba, who North Dakota is now very happy with. But it was rough to process all this stuff as a small child. Luckily, years of Adlerian therapy and loads of Prozac (not to mention six months in a Skinner Box) have helped, and we hope by telling our story we can help those who survived the breakup of the Carolinas and Virginia and West Virginia. You’ll get through this! We promise.

When you think about North Dakota, what comes to mind? It’s a trick question–nobody has ever thought about North Dakota.

How is this even possible? It’s a question that has stumped all the great philosophers. The Ancient Greeks believed one could never think about North Dakota: one would get halfway to thinking about North Dakota, then halfway again, and again, but never actually reach the finish line of thinking about North Dakota.

John Locke believed the brain was a tabula rasa, a blank slate one could never write “North Dakota” on. Meanwhile, Descartes believed, “I think, therefore I am. I think about North Dakota, therefore I am not.”

Kierkegaard theorized that to even think about North Dakota was to experience “existential despair.” And it was Nietzsche who put forth the idea of “will to power”–that we will ourselves to never think about North Dakota.

Of course, it could be that nobody ever thinks about North Dakota because it is phenomenonally, unbelievably dull. We may never know the true reason.

Nebraska’s capital is Lincoln. But Illinois is the Land of the Lincoln. Confused? Don’t be—the explanation is quite simple!

You see, Nebraska has taken the cost-saving measure of outsourcing their entire state government to an office park in the suburban Chicago area.

Sadly, Nebraska is not saving nearly enough money, and will soon move its entire state government to a call center in Bangalore. Nebraska residents who want to renew their drivers licenses will have to pay thousands for an airline ticket, travel to a DMV in India, and stand in line for many, many days, maybe even weeks, until their number (“Do sau saat!”) is called. Oh, did we mention the tens of thousands of dollars it will cost to ship your car to Bangalore and back to have its emissions tested?

But it will be worth it, for all the time and money Nebraskans will save.

Nevada is home to casinos, brothels, and nuclear bomb testing facilities. Sadly, the constant barrage of radiation since the 1950s has had a serious effect on Nevada.

Nearly all the sex workers at Nevada’s legal brothels are over fifty feet tall (as required by law), while erstwhile Las Vegas performer Celine Dion has turned into a giant monster called “Celinezilla,” picking up tourist busses and slamming them back down on the Vegas strip with impunity. Caesar’s Palace now charges twenty-five bucks for this “ride.”

Nevada is also home of Area 51, where conspiracy theorists claim the United States government supposedly keeps space aliens and tests their strange spacecraft in the desert skies at night. Actually, the truth behind Area 51 is much more mundane: it’s where Bigfoot rules the entire planet with his hairy iron fist. See? Doesn’t that make more sense than space aliens? We bet you conspiracy theorists feel preeeeeeety stupid right now!

West Virginia is coal country. The state animal is coal. The state bird is coal. The governor is a bag of coal. The state song is “Workin’ in a Coal Mine,” except they’ve changed every word in the song to “coal,” so it now goes: “Coal coal coal coal coal coal, coal coal coal coal, coal coal coal coal coal coal, WHOO! Coal coal coal coal coal coal.”

The whole fucking state is nothing but fucking coal. And as West Virginians say, “Coal coal coal, coal coal coal coal.”

All Kansas is is dust in wind. That is SO true, man. Far out.

Did you ever like, look at your hand, man? I mean, like REALLY look at your hand. Like, these lines in my hand–what if they’re a map to another universe, left by ancient astronauts? Check it out–like, this puffy part up by my pinky, that’s our solar system, right? And these lines like, represent other galaxies and shit, and like, my thumb, that’s a whole other universe, outside our universe, and there are like, billions of other universes, because everybody’s got like, two thumbs. Whooooaaaaaa. Far out.

Shit, did someone just knock on the door, man? Is that the cops? Shit shit shit. Act cool, man, act cool. And that’s everything you need to know about Kansas.