There are many things I don't understand. Star Wars Lego fetishism. Justin Bieber perfume. Dancing squid lunches in Japan. Quantum entanglement. Utah.
By extension, there exist innumerable subcultures and little eccentric freakshow cultworlds scattered about the American landscape around which my mind simply cannot gain traction, about which my emotional wiring and better reasoning slam into a wall of OMG WTF as my heart slips into a dark pit of you've got to be effing kidding me.
For example. Behold this fine piece of spam email I just received, sent by something called Safari Club International. Instantly did my expert journalistic eye deduce, from its alarmist wording, macho "weathered" fonts and multiple exclamation points that the group deals in those charming, "exclusive" Texas hunting clubs for rich white hunters and the high-powered rifles who love them.
How I got on their mailing list, I may never know. Isn't life grand?
(Full URL:
http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/g/a/2011/07/27/notes072711.DTL&nl=fix)