Buc-ee’s Nation: The Terrifying Rise of America’s Beaver Overlords

Folks, it’s happening. The great Beaver Apocalypse is upon us. Buc-ee’s, the so-called "gas station" chain, is spreading its beaver-branded empire faster than a wildfire in a drought-stricken Texas summer. And let me tell you, this isn’t just about clean bathrooms and jerky—oh no. This is a full-blown psyop, people. Wake up!

First, they came for Virginia. Now, they’re setting up shop in Georgia. Next? Probably your backyard, your local PTA meeting, and eventually, your dreams. That’s right—Buc-ee’s isn’t just selling kolaches; they’re selling compliance. Think about it: 75,000-square-foot "temples" to highway convenience? That’s not a gas station, that’s a reeducation camp disguised as a pit stop.

And don’t even get me started on the cult-like following. "Clean restrooms"? Please. That’s just the bait. Next thing you know, you’ll be chanting "Buc-ee’s for life" while handing over your firstborn for a lifetime supply of Beaver Nuggets. Coincidence that they’re expanding into nine more states? I think not. This is clearly Phase One of the Great American Beaver Takeover.

Mark my words: by 2030, every town in America will have a Buc-ee’s, and by then, it’ll be too late. You’ll be too busy stuffing your face with brisket sandwiches to notice the beaver-shaped surveillance drones hovering overhead. They’re not just building gas stations—they’re building loyalty. And if you think this is just about road trips and snacks, well, my friend, you’re already one of them.

So next time you pull into a Buc-ee’s, ask yourself: who’s really fueling whom? The answer might just shock you. Or at least ruin your appetite for beef jerky. Stay vigilant, patriots. The beavers are watching.