What truths might we glean from the mountains of weird trash left behind after a NASCAR race?

Illustration for article titled What truths might we glean from the mountains of weird trash left behind after a NASCAR race?

Photo: Sean Gardner (Getty Images)

It was written long ago that great scenes of devastation would come in a time like ours. The prophets spoke of large crowds, drawn to the roar of strange, swift beasts. Once the objects of their strange worship had quieted, it is said, these crowds would wreak destruction on the lands they gathered upon, and no crops would grow there for generations to come.

Swallow your fears and look now at the manifestation of these old omens.

The Talladega Superspeedway’s Twitter account, run by one of the few souls brave enough to return to the infernal scene left behind after a NASCAR race last Sunday, has provided images from the scorched, post-apocalyptic hellscape.

Their images, if you’re brave enough to look, contain the weird instruments of the now-scattered society that once prized them.

Archeologists will later try to piece together Talladega’s puzzling culture based on the objects of comfort these vanished people once clung to.

They will pick through piles of crushed aluminum, rotting food, and bizarre artifacts that must have entertained the people in the days before The Doom Of Alabama struck.

As hard as these images may be to witness, it is our duty as the people of the world to understand the society that formed, then suddenly disappeared, outside the racetrack last Sunday. What were there hopes? Their dreams? Did they burn and drink to celebrate or to subdue the rages inspired by the fast machines reported to have driven around in front of them?

We may never know for sure, but it is our job to learn from the clues they’ve left us—not only so we can enrich our understanding of other cultures but so we, god willing, may avoid the same terrors that must have struck Talladega.

Begin your studies, perhaps, by trying to understand the story behind this absolutely fucking disgusting rotting banana.

Send Great Job, Internet tips to gji@theonion.com

About the author

Reid McCarter

Contributor, The A.V. Club. Reid’s a writer and editor who has appeared at GQ, Playboy, and Paste. He also co-created and writes for videogame sites Bullet Points Monthly and Digital Love Child.

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