I was raised in St.Louis (Saint Lew-us, not Les-ie) when we drank soda, which might have been Coke, and we never put the cart before the harse of Highway farty when doing the warsh or eating a sammich for lunch made from stuff brought home from the grocery in a bag. Then I went to college 120 miles west at Mizzou and found there was no soda, only coke, which cold be an orange coke, a 7-up coke, or a Coka Cola. Then I migrated to KCMO, whereupon I found it was a sanwich you ate for dinner with a bottle of pop on Four-TEE HIGHway, made from thangs brought home from the store in a sack, never a bag. Then I moved to ChihCAWgo, and it really got confusing, I mean right dare over dare, even for a regular guy like me.
Of course television and nationally broadcast chain radio have mostly homogenized the Anguished language as spoken in ‘Murcia deez days, doncha know.
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