• 11 : ?? P.M.
  I'm on a plain

I'm on the border of Yellowstone National Park, in a little lodge-like thing. Off season rates mean I don't have to camp in my car in the 20 something degree night of an inland state.

It's so hard to think with the TV on. I can recall things that happened, and I could make myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but whatever insight I normally draw upon seems to be gone, like reasonable POV in a heated argument. Stupid TV.

Well anyway, today started with a motel shower featuring periodic water tempurature. HOT Warm cool Cold FREEZING Cold cool Warm HOT, at about, oh, .02 Hz.

mile five hundred something

Deeper Into Montana. Now that I know what the Lieutenant in hunt for red oktober was missing, I can say with certainty that Montana is worth selling out your futuristic nuclear submarine for. Check this out: 5 brands and 50 different kinds of beef jerky even at the tiniest of kwik-e-marts (kwik-e-mart is "Town Pump" here).

the beef jerky aisle dwarfs the selection of magazines.

Here's me in big sky country with my big coffee. No sales tax.

Time for a little spirituality

This five person temple is located next to the Crow Indian ("Ab-soar-key") Reservation rest stop. Features a single window with a crucifix in front of it, facing east. Problem with this being, insects find their way in through cracks around the front door, but won't fly away from the only apparent opening in the structure, meaning that there is a cloud of flies surrounding the cross, and dead bugs littering the altar. The nature of this trap becomes clear when you turn to leave and are confronted by a wall of christian tracts: small, accessible pamphlets intended to convince the reader of the necessity for christian worship.

The one that caught my eye was titled "Everyone's Pierced!" and is meant to appeal to the trendily perforated (or those, like me, who just wind up hanging out with them). It's like, "no piercing can hurt as much as the hole through your SOUL!" and then it goes into how Jesus got totally pierced through his hands, man, nails hammered through them. Et cetera. The authors of these things know they will be held up to ridicule, but count on the propogation of tracts from youth to jeering youth to get them into the hands of that odd susceptible and unsure person, stalled out between the rejection of popular values and the formation of a personal moral code. This is what the pilgrims on the corners of the U-district say as they hand them out, "hey, check em out, they're kind of funny!"

We leave, suitably rested, after a light lunch of fried chicken and pbj. Next Rest Stop: 165 miles. Lots of people pulling U-turns after seeing that sign, I'm sure. I-90 gets all weird for a while. Speed limit signs come up every 100 yards. Speed limit 75. 65, 55, 45, 35. The Interstate narrows to a two lane, two way road for several miles, then gets back on track. We see a Benz with Oregon plates pulled over (it is worth noting that I passed a cop at 85 the previous night and it didn't so much as ruffle his donuts.) Helen got pulled over in the same area that time she wound up at the site of the testicle festival, but she was out on a 95 mph jaunt in her silver bullet. The benz must have been doing something extra bad. I have been told that you have to come up with 40 bucks cash on the spot when pulled over in Montana.

There are lots of trucks with oversize load signs carrying huge steel manifolds which I have been calling "milk silos", but which are more likely part of some beef jerky production equipment.

Here comes another cop car stopped on the side of the road, lights flashing. I wonder who is pulled over this time. I see a sherriff standing on the road shoulder aiming his rifle at something in the ditch. "Holy crap, I wonder if he's covering a guy," I think. Just as we draw up next to him, he discharges the firearm in a blast of smoke. ("!!!!!") Then I see it's a deer, as he kicks its head to see if it has been properly put out of its misery. Wasn't expecting that today.

mile eight hundred or so

Elph runs out of batteries, so I'm on chemical camera now. Entering Yellowstone we park and immediately encounter a small group of elk, including a big bull wearing a crown of horns the size of a soloflex. He makes a sound I have never heard before. (kind of like, "ooOOOOooogh." ) He licks another elk's butt.

Later there are a herd of buffalo in the road. These ruggy creatures were once hunted to near extinction, but thanks to the magic of commercial farming, I can eat one dead in an onion roll for a mere $4.50! I would call the taste "ranchy". They're huge and dark. I'm used to seeing their taxidermized heads as shaman hats on TV.

Helen has a vehicular power inverter. I should've brought my machinedrum.