You threw Johnny Cash in jail. You think 'The Client' is a suitable rebuttal to our celebration of 'The Sound and the Fury.' Your culinary mystique is a tangled web of Applebee’s peppered with so many Sonics that I have to assume there’s a city-wide mandate on Cherry Limeade accessibility, lest the native palate go unsatisfied. Your Balkan-esque landscape is so devoid of charm that it even depresses the frayed ball-cap, F-150 lift kit crowd from other crappy ag schools visiting for football games. Compared to you, Clemson is a clear spring morning in Barcelona.