By the time I had arrived at Market Square, the vernal sunset had reared its ugly head. Market Square, magnetically attracts everyone in town, for NO FUCKING reason, what so ever, then to drink, or admire the southern landmark. The result looks like a Phish concert, being held in an Amish community.
Traditionally, eastern towns had a farmers market at their centers. These squares, act as a main nerve for commerce, and a center for communication and communicable diseases, for the rest of society. Following suit with tradition of the east, Knoxville kept this bleak and desolate, quasi-soviet structure, in the interest of "historical preservation", and lined the perimeter of the square with bars, pubs, and restaurants...in an act designed to appease the growing tourist and college populations. This was done while simultaneously pretending to care about the historical landmark, and the locals that loved it.
This carefully, crafted, concoct sounds good on paper, was as natural to watch as a French maid fucking a buffalo, while licking a tree frogs ass, but not as strange as watching the chick who played Precious, give a midget a lap dance! Since I had a fucked up morning, and was already half drunk, it was time to play the game of personality roulette, where I'm cool as shit to some people, and randomly a total asshole to others!!