Snow Crash by Neal Stephenson

Wow. Not only a great story, but he predicted my 2006 social consciousness and attitude when writing in 1992. Neal is my hero. I have two pages dog-eared for future reference...

Follow the loglo outward, to where the growth is enfolded into the valleys and the canyons, and you find the land of the refugees. They have fled from the true America, the America of atomic bombs, scalpings, hip-hop, chaos theory, cement overshoes, snake handlers, spree killers, space walks, buffalo jumps, drive-bys, cruise missiles, Sherman's March, gridlock, motorcycle gangs, and bungee jumping. They have parallel-parked thier bimbo boxes in identical computer-designed Burbclave street patterns and secreted themselves in symmetrical sheetrock shitholes with vinyl floors and ill-fittng woodwork and no sidewalks, vast house farms out in the loglo wilderness, a culture medium for a medium culture.

Until a man is twenty-five, he still thinks, every so often, that under the right circumstances he could be the baddest [mofo] in the world.