Does Matt Lauer hate the midwest?

Does Matt Lauer hate the Midwest? You tell me. Matt Lauer on the Today Show consistently calls the middle US states, the states united in the center, thirty-two or so marked-off areas where lots of people live; he likes to call that the nation’s “mid-section.” I happen to be one of those people and my home, I guess to him, the place where I keep all my stuff, is pretty much the country’s beer gut.


Matt Lauer thinks we're the beer gut of America

“Violent thunderstorms ripped through the nation’s mid-section today,” he’ll report sternly using his serious voice, “uprooting trees and leaving downed power lines in its wake.” It’s pretty obvious what ol’ Matt thinks of us as he flies over from one coast to the other, if he thinks of us at all. To him, we’re obviously not America’s creamy, nougat center. We’re not the juicy novel between two leather bound book covers, not the fantastic prize inside our morning cereal, the hearty lunchmeat in our national sandwich. No, to ol’ Matt Lauer we’re the mid-section— the ugly, unwanted flab packed on after 200-some years of lying on our ass around North America.

This means, of course, stretched out anatomically, Matt’s inferring New York is America’s brain, the nerve center, the coolest place to live that does all the figurin’, too. NYC is the cherry on top of the continental sundae. The little bowler guy on top of the trophy. Or, as he would put it: “Hurricane Skippy ripped through the nation’s ultra-hip, fashion-forward cranium overnight, uprooting trees and leaving downed power lines in its wake.”

Yeah, okay Matt, whatever. Think what you want to think. Read what your writers write for you to read. But, you know, carrying your analogy further, Los Angeles is somewhere around America’s pelvic region. So one morning I want to hear: “Wildfires ripped through the nation’s steamy crotch today, leaving scorched, uprooted trees and downed power lines in its wake.”

Has a nice ring to it.


This has been “Something Else Entirely:” Off-topic observations posted on an irregular basis by a cranky old guy waving his fist at the neighborhood kids from his front porch...

“Your Uncle Walter's going on and on
‘bout everything he's seen and done.
The voice of 50 years experience,
he’s drunk, watching the television.”
— Ben Folds

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