The Dam Site Inn in Hell, Michigan
Don’t need reason. Don’t need rhyme.
Ain’t nothing I would rather do.
Going down, party time,
My friends are gonna be there too . . .
— AC/DC, “Highway to Hell,” 1979
TROY, Michigan
We were nearly in Hell when it occurred to me that we weren’t actually on a highway. Rather, we were on a narrow two-lane country road — Patterson Lake Road, to be exact. Having driven more than 60 miles to get there, however, it was obviously too late to turn back now.
Hell, Michigan, has sort of a tourist industry based entirely on the tiny town’s name, with souvenirs available at a local shop that was, unfortunately, closed by the time we got there.
By “we,” I mean me, investigative journalist Matthew Vadum of the Capital Research Center, Vinnie Vernuccio of Workplace Choice, and Ray Patnaude, a graphic design specialist whose wife Annie was in charge of Saturday’s AFP Michigan forum. Between the four guys riding through western Michigan in my rented Toyota, really, we had the makings of our own think tank. Or at least a decent blog.
Our trip was planned by Vinnie, who has moved to Michigan to pursue his campaign for right-to-work legislation in Big Labor’s backyard, but I first learned about the expedition from Vadum. As the AFP forum wound down Saturday afternoon in Troy, Vadum was signing copies of his ACORN-busting book, Subversion, Inc. When I asked Matthew about his post-conference plans, he said, “We’re going to Hell. Want to go with us?”
Who could turn down an invitation like that?
So I took my laptop back to my hotel, then drove over to the Marriott where the AFP conference guests were staying and, after some discussion as to whether we should take one car or two, everybody loaded into my rented Toyota.
Unlimited mileage. Tax-deductible business expense.
Thank you, Wonderful Car Rental Agency! Thank you, IRS!
One of the wonders of American tax law is that a freelance journalist can deduct damned near anything as a business expense, as long as he writes about it. (I’ve thought about whether writing about my cigarette habit would make my Marlboros a business expense, but that might be pushing it too far.) At any rate, this trip to Hell was a perfectly legitimate journalistic endeavor, because as anyone can see — hello, Mr. Tax Man — I am indeed writing about it.
Also, there are Republican voters in Hell. Continue reading My Saturday Night in Hell →
