When the exalted Scottish poet Robbie Burns lamented man’s inhumanity to man, he may have been referring to the tourist attractions in the Wisconsin Dells. Between the towering walls of souvenir t-shirts which celebrate a lazy, hostile, and deeply tacky brand of selfishness, to duck boat tours whose eighty-year-old diesel engines inexplicably exhaust out of the nose of the vehicle and into everyone’s faces for an hour, I ultimately found myself craving a fresh apple and the oblivion of a book about snakes.*
Many and sharp the num’rous ills, / Inwoven with our frame! / More pointed still we make ourselves, / Regret, Remorse, and Shame!
We depart now for German Fest in downtown Milwaukee, breakfasting on garlic-dill curds and great thermoses of hot Coca-Cola. The sun is not yet risen.
* Roald Dahl, Going Solo
M. J.
2023-08-19 04:20:13 +0000 UTCJulie (HiDeeHoGal)
2023-08-03 19:22:34 +0000 UTCDoctor Link
2023-07-31 06:19:04 +0000 UTCJ Hardy Carroll
2023-07-30 20:14:03 +0000 UTCBrian
2023-07-30 18:00:02 +0000 UTCprofessor husband
2023-07-30 15:36:02 +0000 UTC