Nuñez never met a wild conspiracy theory he didn’t like, but unlike most of the paranoid wackos he networked with in the musty corners of the internet, he didn’t take the whole thing too seriously. It was as much a joke as a way of life, kind of like devout Catholics with a store of priest/minister/rabbi jokes.

“I don’t buy it,” I said. “Sure, the surveyors among our founding fathers were as human as the next guys, but they were not sex perverts that redrew the map of our country to suit their own twisted mores.”

“Sure they weren’t,” Nuñez responded. “Ever look at a map? Really look at a map? The states look like things!”

“Only a few look like things. Most of them just look like blobs or squares.”

“But the ones that do look like something…think about them!” he cried. “Michigan, Florida, Louisiana…tell me that’s not intentional and perverted!”

“It’s not.”

“Oh, right,” Nuñez said, his voice dripping with what may or may not have been sarcasm. “Three states look like a hand, a dick, and a sock, and you’re saying there wasn’t a pervert behind it all. Now who’s being naive?”

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