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- cross-posted to:
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Do explain
This is at a Buc-ees. This golden beaver is their mascot. Southerners love them some Buc-ees. The reason is that they are awesome for reasons too numerous to mention.
People in the South talk about Buc-ees like New Yorkers talk about fashion pop-ups.
OP is referring to this as the “Golden Calf” of the South. And since as the South is foreign to the leftiest of the leftys, you have the joke.
Still lost, but happy to say the joke is on me if that makes some shithead feel better.
It’s a gas station chain in Texas called Buc-ee’s. Some Texans freak out about it in a huge way. I have lots of Buc-ee branded apparel as a result of my brother-in-laws passion, which he’s instilled in my niece who now insists on more shirts for her aunt and uncle.
I’m cool with it as they pay everyone well above minimum wage. If you want to fan out over a corporation, you could do much worse.
We pray at the altar of the beaver
Wynona took her big brown beaver and she stuck him up in the air
May ye be blessed with a majestic porcelain thrown during your travels.
Have you eaten his nuggets?
Grab his nuggets
It’s Mooby, the golden calf!
Too much al-a-bucce-bama for me.
My favorite confederate war hero
Some people call it a truck stop. Others pray to Bee-sus.
I love me some Buc-ee’s!
I only know what this is because of the Derangement of Karina Drawfee
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair.
I met a traveller from an antique land, Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand, Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed; And on the pedestal, these words appear: My name is Buc-ee, King of Kings; Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair! Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away.” — Percy Shelley, “Buc-ee’s”, 1819 edition
As someone who lives in Texas, this shit is the weirdest cult. Never seen so many people obsess over mediocrity. I really don’t get it.