Wichita Falls Ranks #2 in Cheap Stuff

Wichita Falls Ranks #2 in Cheap Living—Residents Demand Recount, Hoping for First

Why settle for ‘affordable’ when you can live in the discount aisle of America’s soul?

WICHITA FALLS, TEXAS — Residents of Wichita Falls woke up Friday morning with a chip on their collective shoulder—and not the good kind you dip in off-brand ranch dressing. The Times Record News reported that the city had been named the second cheapest place to live in America.

Second.

The news was received with collective outrage, at least by local standards. One man reportedly muttered, “Bull,” before returning to his lawn chair positioned in the bed of a rusted 1993 Ford Ranger. Several others said nothing at all, which in Wichita Falls is considered full-blown protest.

“I visited once. Their idea of fine dining was a gas station burrito served on a hubcap.” — Ron White

“If we’re not number one in being bottom-shelf, then what the hell are we doing here?” said local resident Hank “Snuffy” Burnell, while using a pool noodle to patch the radiator of his third-hand Chrysler PT Cruiser. “I’ve lived on expired ramen, slept on a futon made of burlap, and married two women I met in Dollar Tree. You telling me that ain’t commitment?”

Indeed, what Wichita Falls lacks in amenities, it makes up for in attitude—specifically, the kind that smells faintly of motor oil, menthols, and domestic light beer.

“Cheap Living” Is Not an Insult. It’s a Brand.

For outsiders, the word “cheap” might evoke images of crumbling infrastructure, suspicious meat products, and local talent shows involving harmonicas and moonshine-fueled storytelling. But for Wichita Falls, “cheap” isn’t a problem—it’s a promise.

“Look, people in Austin spend $14 on toast. I spend $14 on groceries, alimony, and gas—and I still have enough left over to buy a scratch-off that’ll break my heart,” said Tammie “Taco” Gonzalez, a cashier-philosopher at the city’s 47th convenience store.

A recent fake study from the University of North Central Mid-Panhandle Agrarian Futurism Department found that 89% of Wichita Falls residents would rather have something “affordable and terrible” than “fancy and functional.” The remaining 11% didn’t respond because their flip phones died mid-survey.

Cheap Cars, Even Cheaper Car Alarms

In Wichita Falls, the average car isn’t measured by miles per gallon—it’s measured by how many of its windows still roll down. While most cities fear the sound of a car backfiring, in Wichita Falls it’s how neighbors say hello.

“You can’t even steal a car around here,” said Officer Darnell Bridges. “Most folks just leave the keys in. And if you do take it, there’s a decent chance it’ll break down two blocks later. It’s not grand theft auto—it’s involuntary community service.”

Locals lovingly refer to their vehicles as “heirlooms,” “beasts,” or “hope traps.” One man, identified only as “Shane with the Bronco,” has kept his car running since 1987 using only wire hangers, chewing gum, and blind optimism.

“I don’t need a Tesla,” Shane said, while throwing gravel into the passenger-side footwell for ‘traction.’ “I got a cassette deck that plays only ZZ Top and a horn that sounds like a goose dying. That’s real American engineering.”

Romance, Wichita-Style: Cheap Women, Expensive Mistakes

The dating scene in Wichita Falls is exactly what you’d expect in a town where Applebee’s is considered “exotic” and a texted “u up?” qualifies as foreplay.

A new dating app exclusive to the region—called Plenty o’ Fishin’ Poles—matches users based on how many Coors Lights they can drink before insulting their cousin.

“Cheap women? That’s reductive,” said local life coach and mobile notary Krystal “with a K.” “We’re not cheap—we’re economically nimble. I got married in a Sonic drive-thru, divorced in a Tractor Supply parking lot, and I’d do it again.”

The town’s most romantic spot is widely considered to be the abandoned Red Lobster off Kemp Boulevard, which now serves as a community center, vape shop, and moonlit engagement venue.

Whiskey with a Bite—And Possibly Rabies

The local liquor store has an entire shelf dedicated to bottles that cost under $4. These include crowd favorites like “Old Panther,” “Texas Creek Swill,” and a new corn-based spirit simply labeled “Brown.”

“These whiskeys’ll put hair on your chest and then burn it off,” said Clint “Toothless” Jarvis, the unofficial town sommelier. “We got one that’s been banned in three counties and still won a ribbon at the county fair.”

Fake research from the Whiskey Appreciation Guild of Lower Texas (WAGLT) suggests that Wichita Falls leads the nation in “bourbon-adjacent beverages per capita.”

The most popular mixer? Tap water, followed closely by tears and Waffle House syrup.

Fashionably Unacceptable

In a town where Goodwill is high fashion, Wichita Falls has given up on trends and doubled down on nostalgia. Tracksuits from 1992, camo cargo shorts, and oversized Looney Tunes shirts are not ironic here—they’re heirlooms.

“I got this denim vest at a garage sale in 2003 and haven’t taken it off since,” said Freda “Chainsaw” Culpepper, a 4’11” bartender known for her mullet and strong opinions about Bruce Springsteen. “It’s weathered, like my trust in men.”

Wichita Falls Fashion Week is just a guy named Dale walking through the mall in jorts and a bandana, being silently judged by no one.

Education, but Make It Flexible

The local school district recently unveiled a new STEM program: Shadetree Mechanics and Livestock CPR. Students can now earn college credit by successfully repairing a carburetor using nothing but duct tape, prayers, and a YouTube video narrated by someone named “Big Randy.”

Meanwhile, the city’s only private school is funded entirely by a bingo hall and teaches Latin, pig breeding, and how to spot expired meat at a discount grocer.

“If you can’t read Dostoyevsky while riding a four-wheeler, you don’t belong in our valedictorian circle,” said Principal Terry Lou, who also runs a bait shop.

Local Entertainment: Hold My Beer

Who needs Netflix when you’ve got amateur rodeo clowns, demolition derbies, and the occasional Taco Bell fistfight?

The Wichita Falls Community Theater recently staged an all-puppet adaptation of Dallas Buyers Club, and attendance was surprisingly robust. Meanwhile, the town’s escape room consists of trying to exit the DMV with all your teeth.

“Our idea of ‘live music’ is just someone’s uncle with a harmonica and a Bluetooth speaker,” said Jenna Lou, a bartender who moonlights as a karaoke judge and part-time bail bondsman. “It’s raw. It’s pure. It’s mostly off-key.”

Housing So Cheap, It’s Practically Conceptual

A Wichita Falls resident can afford a two-bedroom home with only two part-time jobs and one missing roof shingle. The average home includes:

At least one velvet painting of Elvis
Carpet that predates the Clinton administration
A smoke detector that chirps “Y’all good?”

“I pay $370 a month,” said handyman Reggie B., while spraying Axe body spray on his curtains. “Sure, my kitchen’s in the bathroom, and the toilet whistles when it rains. But that’s character, man. That’s ambiance.”

Expert Analysis: The Sociology of Settling

According to fake sociologist Dr. Lenora “Birdy” Flagg, Wichita Falls is proof that Americans are redefining happiness through “radical mediocrity.”

“These people are not depressed,” Flagg insists. “They’re just allergic to high expectations. In a world where everything’s overpriced and optimized, Wichita Falls reminds us you can survive—and even thrive—with rust, grit, and off-brand ketchup.”

Flagg’s new book, Zen and the Art of Lawn Chair Maintenance, is now required reading at three community colleges and one pawn shop.

Public Infrastructure: Come For the Potholes, Stay For the Patchwork

Wichita Falls’ roads are more memory than pavement. In a recent citizen survey, residents listed their biggest commuting fear as “falling into the past through a pothole so deep it rewinds your life.”

City Hall responded by releasing a map of “Preferred Detours,” which is just a series of arrows pointing to Oklahoma.

BOHINEY NEWS – A wide-aspect cartoon in the satirical, exaggerated style of Bohiney Magazine. The scene is an overpacked living room in Wichita Falls, Texas, filled with ab… – bohiney.com 3

Helpful Tips for Readers Who Want to Live Like It’s Wichita Falls Everywhere

Replace your furniture with cinder blocks and ambition.
Only buy name brands when the letters are slightly misspelled.
Date people who list “owns a crock pot” as a personality trait.
Whiskey should taste like remorse and lawnmower fumes.
Turn your garage into a gym, bar, or political headquarters.
Fix your car with zip ties and prayer.
Call it “rustic” instead of “unpainted.”
Celebrate birthdays with gas station cupcakes.
Use your neighbor’s Wi-Fi but call it “community sharing.”
Practice radical self-reliance, even if you only have half a toolbox.

What the Funny People are Saying

“If Wichita Falls gets any cheaper, they’ll start charging you for not living there.” — Chris Rock

“I don’t know what they’re putting in the whiskey down there, but it made me believe in Bigfoot and marry my cousin.” — Dave Chappelle

“Their high school mascot is literally a shopping cart with three wheels and a dream.” — Jerry Seinfeld

“I asked someone where I could find good weed. They pointed me to a chili cookoff.” — Tina Fey

The Final Kicker

In a town that proudly ranks just above rock bottom, Wichita Falls residents aren’t looking for pity. They’re looking for ice in their whiskey and a friend who won’t steal their jumper cables.

As America continues to spiral into a hyper-capitalist void of overpriced smoothies and $300 yoga mats, Wichita Falls stands defiant—clinging to its rusted lawnmower, its budget romance, and its $3 whiskey with the confidence of a man who once fixed his roof using only a trash bag and a Christmas miracle.

Because here, mediocrity isn’t failure.

It’s home.

Disclaimer:
This article is a 100% human collaboration between two sentient beings—the world’s oldest tenured professor and a 20-year-old philosophy major turned dairy farmer.

BOHINEY NEWS - A wide-aspect cartoon in the style of Bohiney Magazine's fold-in satire. The setting is a dusty main street in Wichita Falls, Texas. On one side of the stree... - bohiney.com 2 — BOHINEY NEWS -A dusty main street in Wichita Falls, Texas, drawn in the exaggerated, fold-in cartoon style of Al Jaffee. On one side, a rusted-out sedan is missing three hubcaps and has a bumper sticker that says “My Other Car is Also Broken.” Across the street, a woman in full camouflage wedding dress is walking into a pawn shop that’s also a vape store and animal adoption center. A sign in the background reads: “Welcome to Wichita Falls—Population: Depends Who’s in Jail.” A man is patching a pothole with duct tape while sipping from a bottle labeled simply “Brown.”… – bohiney.com

15 observations about Wichita Falls’ proud embrace of poor quality goods

1. Automotive Adventures
In Wichita Falls, a car isn’t “old”—it’s “heritage.”
Most vehicles here look like they were assembled by raccoons in a junkyard during a lightning storm. But locals aren’t complaining. They take pride in their four-cylinder jalopies that run on spite and transmission fluid.
“This here’s a 1991 Dodge Spirit,” says Earl, who hasn’t used a blinker since Y2K. “She doesn’t turn left anymore, but that’s why I only drive in circles around my block.”

2. Fashion Forward
Nothing says sexy like a triple-denim ensemble, sweat-resistant mesh caps, and T-shirts that say “Git-R-Done” in three languages.
The most popular fashion accessory is duct tape—used to fix boots, secure waistlines, and occasionally, hold families together.
Wichita Falls’ unofficial motto? “If you can’t wear it to a funeral and a bar fight, don’t wear it at all.”

3. Culinary Creativity
Gourmet in Wichita Falls means pouring hot sauce on something expired.
The food pyramid is made entirely of starches, things in cans, and whatever is half-off at ALDI.
Locals proudly make “cowboy charcuterie”—Vienna sausages, off-brand crackers, and a Slim Jim snapped into bite-size pieces. Add ranch? You’ve got yourself a Michelin-star meal.

4. Home Décor
Shag carpet and popcorn ceilings? That’s not neglect—that’s intentional design aging.
Wichita homes feature velvet Elvis paintings, broken ceiling fans, and couches that look like they survived two divorces and a minor arson.
Interior design is less HGTV and more HGWTF.

5. Entertainment
Who needs Netflix when you’ve got teenagers doing donuts in the Dollar General parking lot and feral cats fighting behind the laundromat?
Locals gather to watch things like:

Squirrel rodeos
Lawn mower drag races
Tammy yelling at Rick about the custody agreement in public
Culture is alive—it just smells like diesel and Monster Energy drinks.

6. Beverage Preferences
The whiskey here isn’t aged—it’s just tired.
Popular brands include “Old Gutpunch,” “Ten Penny Corn Swill,” and a clear liquid sold only in unmarked mason jars labeled “maybe tequila.”
Mixers include:

Tap water
Cherry Kool-Aid
Your own tears
If it burns going down, it’s working.

7. Romantic Endeavors
Dating apps in Wichita Falls ask three questions:

Do you own a truck?
Do you have a probation officer?
Do you think Chili’s is romantic?
The town’s wedding industry is booming—largely because no one makes it past the three-month mark. Vows are often shouted over pool tables during happy hour.

8. Fitness Trends
The closest thing to CrossFit is lifting a six-pack out of the cooler without breaking a sweat.
Jogging happens only during tornado season.
The only “step goals” tracked are from a FitBit someone found under a couch cushion in 2019.

9. Technology
Flip phones are still considered “reliable,” especially because smartphones can’t survive the fallout of a bar brawl or being dunked in queso.
Internet speeds are measured in “shrugabytes.”
Smart homes? Please. If you can yell “lights!” and someone in your house flips a switch, that’s voice activation.

10. Pet Culture
Dogs double as lawn ornaments, emotional support systems, and part-time squirrel deterrents.
If your dog doesn’t ride in the bed of your truck and stick its head out the window like it’s running for mayor, do you even live here?
Veterinarians accept cash, deer jerky, or old batteries.

11. Weather Wisdom
Wichita Falls doesn’t have a forecast—it has a roulette wheel of fire, wind, hail, and regret.
Locals prepare for a sunny day by bringing a poncho, sunscreen, a shovel, and a snakebite kit.
Umbrellas are considered witchcraft.

12. Gardening
Lawns in Wichita Falls are not manicured, they’re negotiated.
Most are equal parts dead grass, rusted tools, and oil stains from a family truck that’s “almost fixed.”
Potted plants are just beer cans with soil in them. Occasionally, they bloom sadness.

13. Transportation
A good bicycle in Wichita Falls has two working tires, a bell stolen from a tricycle, and is probably chained to a parking meter that’s older than the Cold War.
A ride-share service here is just your cousin Chad with a bench seat.
Local scooters include lawnmowers modified for speed and chaos.

14. Education
Classroom supplies include one whiteboard, six feral calculators, and a goat named “GED.”
Sex ed is a filmstrip from 1973 and a teacher named Glenda who keeps saying “you’ll figure it out.”
Graduation gowns are recycled from the local mortuary.

15. Community Events
The “Who Can Fix It?” contest is not just a celebration of jerry-rigging—it’s religion.
Categories include:

Best use of chewing gum in auto repair
Fastest grill made from spare AC units
Most believable excuse for not paying child support
Winners receive glory, duct tape, and a gift card to Sonic.