Once upon a time (as opposed to "No shit, guys, listen up") there was this grand and glorius land, filled with bright, energetic, and industrious people. Most of them had landed as such inglorious as Indianola, Texas, which unbeknownst to them, God had already designated as Ground Zero for Hurricanes in the Gulf Coast Area. (In case you poor, misguided miscreants can't read, which is likely the case, Indianola was destroyed twice by hurricanes. The only thing standing there now is a permanent granite marker that God installed, with the words, "Don't mess with Mother Nature" deeply etched into the surface.)
Fast forward a couple of decades to the aforementioned pre-invasion of the hillbillies and the Meskin asswhuppin party. An employee of the toll-gate at the border between The Land of the Toothbrush (aka Arkansas) and God's Country (aka Texas) who was of Pollack descent, dragged his knuckles out of the dirt long enought to raise the No Trepassing gate, just long enough for a bunch of land-grabbin' misanthropes from the colonies to enter.
The way I see it, bOOger's descendants are all to blame.
