Along I-65S at the border of Tennessee and Alabama, there was a Gentleman's Club right off Exit 6. It was next to a motel and a gas station. No town nearby. No civilization. Literally a corn field across the street. I never stepped foot inside but I will never forget it. The name? "Boobie Bungalow."

Thanks to the power of Google Maps time rewinding, you can see the establishment right here. Spin that camera around, it's unbelievably desolate.

As I was trying to find out more info about the place, I stumbled on this Bandcamp song paying tribute to it. Honestly, perfect song: I also ran across this Heather Hopkins piece about working at the place for a short stint - "Stripping away my naiveté at the Bungalow Club. As you might have guessed, the gentleman's club off the interstate in the middle of nowhere was not always a pleasant place. Hopkins piece is quite entertaining and enjoyable tho - well worth the read.

The club is gone now. Google Maps shows barely a husk of the prior establishment. I'm sure that's for the best.

But still.. helluva name.

"We spoke with voters who cast their ballots for Mr. Trump and said they were disappointed with his second term. A few said they even regretted their votes.
— New York Times

MODERATOR: In one or two words, finish this sentence: “I’m feeling ‘blank’ about the Empire these days, now that the galactic superweapon I willingly supported hovers overhead.”

TALLIS, 44: Concerned.
MIRA, 29: Confused yet hopeful.
BRENN: Annoyed.
KELAN, 38: Surprised.
OOLA, 61: Worried.
DARO, 24: Betrayed.
LYSA, 47: Frustrated.
JOREN, 63: Apathetic.
CEN, 35: Discouraged.
PAVA, 19: Anxious.
RINN, 56: Disappointed.
HASK, 41: Steady.

MODERATOR: Mira, you said, “confused yet hopeful.” Tell me more.

MIRA: I think a lot has happened very quickly. There were promises about stability, about restoring order to the galaxy. At the same time, when I look up… it raises questions. Still, I feel like there must be a plan. They wouldn’t position something like that over a loyal world without a reason that benefits us.

MODERATOR: Kelan, you said, “surprised.”

KELAN: I voted for strength. The Emperor projects strength. That’s important. But I didn’t think strength meant a planet-killing battle station this close to my planet. I assumed deployments like this were for Outer Rim situations. You know, for lesser things, like Jawas.

MODERATOR: Daro, you said “betrayed.”

DARO: We were told this was about keeping the galaxy safe from extremists who don’t share our values. Alderaan isn’t that. We’re peaceful. We comply. But seeing that thing’s massive dish warming up like that, it certainly doesn’t feel like protection. It feels like something else.

MODERATOR: Have you felt this way for a while?

DARO: Not until it blotted out the Sun. Before that, it was easy to trust the Empire.

MODERATOR: Oola, you mentioned you’re worried.

OOLA: I supported the Emperor because I thought he’d learned from the Clone Wars. I thought this time would be different. But now there’s this constant vibration I can feel deep in my bones. My grandson says it’s “charging.” I don’t know exactly what that means, but it doesn’t sound like an agriculture policy.

MODERATOR: Tell me why you supported the Empire in the first place.

BRENN: Lesser of two evils. The Senate was ineffective, and the liberal Jedi were out of touch. The Emperor said he’d cut through all that. And he did—sometimes literally. You have to give him that. Things moved. Maybe a little too much moving right now, with the Death Star repositioning every few minutes to maintain a firing solution on our planet, but still.

MODERATOR: Are there things the Empire has done well?

HASK: Disintegrations. And I like that they’re decisive. You look at that battle station, and you think, Wow, that’s decisive engineering. People make jokes about the cost of it, but I see efficiency. They should make two.

MODERATOR: Some of you mentioned concerns. Any regrets?

HASK: None. The Emperor is a smart man. He’s playing a long game. People see a glowing aperture pointed at our planet capable of snuffing out all life as we know it, and they panic. But that’s emotional. Irrational. Grand Moff Tarkin is probably up there doing calibrations we just don’t understand.

TALLIS: I regret it. My sister said this is exactly how it would go. I told her she was overreacting. Now she’s on Yavin 4 with the Rebellion, and I’m outside watching an ominous green light fill the whole sky, and I feel foolish.

JOREN: I don’t know that regret changes anything. It’s there now. It’s not like we can vote it away at this point.

MODERATOR: Are there Imperial policies that have affected you personally?

LYSA: Blue drink sales are way down. People aren’t dining out when the sky looks like that.

MODERATOR: Who do you feel the Empire is most focused on?

RINN: Not us. I always thought we were part of the “us.” Now I’m not sure. I feel like a Bothan spy, to be honest.

MODERATOR: Do you think the Empire understands what life is like on Alderaan right now?

TALLIS: I don’t think they understand the fear. Every surface is glowing green.

HASK: Or illuminated. That’s another way to put it.

MODERATOR: Sorry, “illuminated”? Hask, you disagree.

HASK: People assume the green light and orbiting space station are ominous because they’re unfamiliar. But large-scale governance can look intimidating up close.

MODERATOR: Do you think Alderaan is being treated fairly?

CEN: No. We’re being made an example of.

BRENN: Maybe, but examples are how order works. I’m not saying I like the thought of Alderaan becoming a loose collection of asteroids floating in space. I’m saying I understand the political theory.

CEN: The political theory is currently pointed at my son’s school.

MODERATOR: Has anything changed your mind in the last few minutes?

RINN: The Death Star’s green beam separating into smaller beams and then joining into one larger beam has been clarifying.

HASK: I’d still caution against reading too much into military optics.

MODERATOR: Optics?

HASK: If you build a planet-killer, people are going to assume the worst every time you park it near a planet. That’s just a messaging problem.

MODERATOR: And if it fires?

HASK: Then obviously we’ll need to revisit the messaging.

EDITOR’S NOTE: At this point in the discussion, the laser beam from the Death Star intensified, grew closer, and permanently blinded everyone.

MIRA: I still think there’s a plan.

DARO: I don’t think the plan includes us.

HASK: I think people are overreacting. The Empire wouldn’t target its own loyal citizens. That would make no sense.

It's been years, but Elon Musk is reportedly still trying to make this happen.

Trump likes AI, but this video generator was especially bad at rendering text.

1. “She’s lowkenuinely sheesh.”

2. “Relaxmaxxing in languidoily.”

3. “Twosday to Whensday, I’m mogging moids.”

4. “That chopped chud.”

5. “FAHH.”

6. “Pay your fannum tax.”

7. “Fifteen pigeon takee offa you, stlongfella.”

8. “Hoppy on akkant of his joyicity.”

9. “The referee amogus uncanny.”

10. “My salty shmlawg.”

11. “So weenybeenyveenyteeny.”

12. “Comeday morm and you’re vine!”

13. “Raise your ya ya ya.”

14. “Need poggers tea?”

15. “In the twitterlitter.”

16. “Shize? I should shee!”

17. “Stoop if you are abcedminded.”

18. “Ireland sober is Ireland stiff.”

19. “Ohio sober is Ohio stiff.”

20. “Did I hear, ‘Bababadalgharaghtakamminarronnkonnbronntonnerronntuonnthunntrovarrhounawnskawntoohoohoordenenthurnuk?’ Am I delulu?”

Answer Key

Your child is suffering from brain rot: 1, 4, 5, 6, 9, 10, 13, 14,

Your child is quoting Finnegans Wake: 7, 8, 11, 12, 15, 16, 17, 18,

Your child is James Joyce suffering from brain rot: 2, 3, 19, 20

You are suffering: 1-20

I wrote a novel called CHOKEVILLE. You can get it at fireland.com. Here’s what it’s about:

Welcome to Fort Hook, a lawless port city teeming with gangsters and smugglers and dipshits. Down near the bottom of the ladder is Batya, who’s worked as muscle-for-hire since she was a little girl.

Last month, she tried to go straight by running a very mediocre food truck. That went real bad real fast, and now she’s being hounded by the local kneecappers. Desperate and broke, she’s forced to team up with her estranged (and rude) sister Mina for a week of increasingly hairy courier jobs.

All that stands between Batya and her payday is a pirate queen, a stupidly sharp sword, a lonesome deer demon, a talking severed hand, and a lifetime of old grudges and bad ideas. But I’m sure it’ll work out fine.