Enter the Jackrabbit is a subset of the Viper Pit series. It was written during the 1998 congressional campaigns over the course of a few days and has been split up to accommodate the web.

“Going ninety, it ain’t scary,
when I’ve got my Virgin Mary
sitting on the dash-board of my car.
Dressed in rhinestones,
sittin’ pretty…”
— “Plastic Jesus” by Paul Newman in Cool Hand Luke

Two days and three thousand miles (?) later, I have: slept nine hours in three days; learned the streets of certain parts of Raleigh, North Carolina, like the back of my hand; been preached at by born again Christians; been pulled over going 87 in a 65 (“reckless driving”) in Alberta County, Virginia; lost my wallet – containing (among other things) my mother-of-all ID cards – on the side of US 85 in Virginia; tasted the heroin that Hunter S. Thompson describes eloquently, in the introduction of Fear and Loathing on the Campaign trail ‘72, as similar to the thrill jack-rabbits get from running across roads in front of cars – political campaigns; and remain in better spirits than at any other time in this asphalt deficient city they call the nation’s capitol.

Sadly, my left arm is twitching in a rather disconcerting manner and gravity is sucking like a competition between an industrial Hoover vacuum and a White House intern, so I’m going to sleep in my boots now and spend some other extended time period writing what I did, where, why, and how I managed not to get arrested or ticketed by the friendly officer an hour and a half out of Petersburg (or was it Richmond?). Good night, and remember: Jesus loves everyone on Sunday.

– 3:26 a.m. 11/2/98

Editor’s Note: All mathematical calculations above are unreliable, but
they are the originals.