My Hometown

My hometown sucks.
Forget moving away  and putting it behind me. No. If I could nuke my hometown I would. It’s full of nothing but thieving , meth-addled, mongrelized subhuman man-apes who blast terrible repetitive music in their rattling, rust-fringed shitty cars; it brims with genuine pond scum, missing links, wasted abortion opportunities , genetic dead ends, God’s mistakes, the lowest of the low; it is full, truly, of some of the most abject, wicked, unconditionally awful, absolutely worst people in the whole wide world. These are the type to rob from the dying and exploit the infirm, to steal from the poor, harass the innocent, scam the old and perhaps laugh about it out of the pettiness of their guiltless, shameless, meager, wretched little souls. They exist to spread misery and to contribute to the sum of ignorance which so burdens mankind. Everything about them is ugly inside and out. Their lives have no value, indeed they have negative value, the fact of their continuing biological functioning is a corrosive detriment to all that is around them and deprives of promise everything they come across. They are unworthy even of the unconscious, nebulous  minimalistic life of a sightless parasitic gut worm. They deserve not even the stingiest of charities. There is no mercy too cheap or second-hand to spare for them. That they continue to draw breath is an affront to nature and all that is decent and good. My hometown matters less to me than the vilest piece of dog shit on the heel of the dirtiest, oldest, stinkiest worn-out boot. It matters less to me than the cavernous, meaningless, insubstantial void of intergalactic space. If I could evacuate the few people I care about who still suffer the tragic misfortune of enduring life in that hopeless slum and press the nuclear launch button I wouldn’t hesitate to set things right. Then I would drop a couple more nukes on the ruins just for good measure, in case the ashes might yet still carry some taint of a reminder of what once blemished the face of the earth. Maybe I would get creative and try out different kinds of bombs, napalm here, white phosphorous there, just to see what’d happen and produce the maximum of spectacle. Finally I’d salt the earth where my hometown once stood so that its cancer might never return and that its memory might soon be forgotten.
Salting the desolate wasteland that would result following the righteous dispensation of my fury upon my hometown is still not enough, for I would not want to risk the chance of there lingering a level surface on which anything, even a landfill, might some centuries later be built. If feasible, I would consider rerouting the ocean through a system of irrigation canals to flood the worthless site, or perhaps enlist a fleet of dump trucks overloaded with tonnages of heavy boulders to interrupt the landscape of that cursed and forsaken soil to dissuade any idea of the return of civilization to the crater-scarred, forbidding radioactive dust bowl where my hometown once was . It may be wise to undermine the earth’s crust directly underneath the location of my hometown with a series of industrial drills to force a cave-in that collapses the entire surface of the region into a massive subterranean sinkhole. Even these reasonable precautions would not be half as much as would be necessary to rectify the aggravated offense that this stinking heap posing as a valid place of human habitation has committed against reason itself. There are no weapons of war yet invented by man, no ordinance or armament of an atomic, explosive, incendiary, ballistic, chemical or biological variety that could be deployed; no natural calamities, apocalyptic asteroid collisions, colossal hurricanes, freak blizzards, shattering earthquakes or immolating volcanic eruptions on any scope or scale adequate  to make a fitting fate for my hometown. Not even some baffling mind-bending physical anomaly, the spontaneous manifestation of a black hole that siphons out the matter and energy composing the very fabric of material reality within the spacetime coordinates enclosing the area comprising my hometown would quite do it justice.
If there is any fairness in this world all that ought to remain of my hometown is a static, howling, primordial chaos of raw oblivion. It would only be right for it to be entirely unmade, nullified, pulverized into subatomic traces which are then in turn to be further annihilated by whatever as of yet undiscovered science or unfathomable act of god into whatever unknown cosmic vapors infuse the primary essence of matter.
It would indeed be best  if whatever ultimate, ineffable , divine or metaphysical principle operates through and pervades the cosmos would negate the fundamental ontological possibility of my hometown by rewriting the rules of causality and altering basic mathematical truths so that it could never come to pass in the first place in any conceivable world or parallel universe no matter the laws of physics so that any world in theory which my hometown could or does exist, including this one in which I live if it must come to that, would be retroactively excluded from possibility and prevented from ever becoming realized such that even the notion of my hometown existing contradicts an immutable axiom of being and violates the essential inner necessity of things that dictates how any potential object out of all infinity and eternity is given a tangible shape or comprehensible form. Fuck my hometown.