There is a town outside Phoenix founded on shit and piss. And if you can’t stand the people who put the orange Putin Puppet in power, you should go there on July 1.
Usually people put the sewage plant far out of town. Not Fountain Hills, Az. There was no industry, no river, no natural reason for this town to exist. So they put the sewey plant 700 yards from “downtown,” poured a concrete “piss pond”, and hooked up 3 massive diesel pumps.
They blasted their own sewer water 600 ft in the air in America’s tallest fountain. 600,000 people a year come from all over the world to see the fountain ejaculate strained shit for 15 minutes every hour on the hour. It’s a fucking impressive sight.
They built expensive custom homes in gated communities, and Republicans from small towns and suburbs in the mid-west moved in by the thousands. The town’s most famous group is “Sheriff Joe and his brownshirts” (the volunteer “posse” of wanna be Yosemite Sams).
With the recent pardon for Sheriff Joe, he will be out in full force next year.
On St. Patrick’s Day, they dye the shit stream green and gather on the grass around the pond. You could go there in March, but it’s not hot yet.
Every Fourth of July they throw a big party under the Fountain. This is your chance.
On July 1, spend the day eating and drinking at the All American Grill across the street. It’s a straight downhill run to the sewage plant from there. Bring a big appetite and some ex-lax (or stop by Taco Bell and get a couple of Big Beefy Burritos).
I personally prefer the handicap stall, so I can get a good grip on the metal handrails as I let it rip 3 or 4 times that day. Make sure to flush 2 or 3 times to give your shit a running start. You don’t want it to get hung up in the sewer and miss the big day.
It usually takes 3-4 days for the sewey plant to squeeze the shit out of the flow, run the leftover liquid through a couple of big-ass Brita filters and pump it back up hill to the piss pond.
Come back to the bar on July 4 and try to get a table by the window. You want to be inside in the air-conditioning because it’s going to be at least 105 degrees outside.
Around sundown, ex-Sheriff Joe, his brownshirts and all their little precious progeny will be running around in the duck shit that surrounds the piss pond.
At the top of the hour, the Fountain will go off, and all the sweaty Sheriff Posse, young and old, will lift their hands toward heaven, lean their heads back and let your sewer water wash all over them. There’s a loud “Aaaaaaahhhhhhh” of relief as they feel the watery piss dropping the temperature below 100.
You can stay for the fireworks if you want, but it will never be as satisfying as the first few seconds of the Fountain blast on the Fourth. When else can you shit on Sheriff Joe and have him thank you for it?