Greg likes fishing and wandering. He likes the woods. He likes chatting with the dirtbags who litter the RVs that litter our national parks and the truck campers that litter our riversides. We get it. But “the blandification of our whole situation”? Really? What’s bland about our situation, exactly? That we kinda sorta cured AIDS? That we have super powerful computers in our pockets that instantly connect us to the rest of the world? That we build and send robots to Mars and discover a bunch of Martian shit?

But ok he’d rather we wander around telling tales to the moon (to which we’ve been, yo!), waiting for that dog to find him. Dunno, friend. Why don’t you take your Gibson J-45 and shove it up – hey, come to think of it, do you think those women who made your precious Gibson J-45 feel about all of this horrifying, normalizing, blandifying, icky progress? You think they do or don’t like seeing their granddaughters grow up as bosses and executives and entrepreneurs and generally kickass ladies? RV owners, if you can imagine such a thing! Voting, and ~making their own decisions,~ and whatnot? As opposed to their own WWII-era options, which were “wife,” “beaten wife,” and “Gibson J-45 maker”?

But it’s prolly great up there near Eugene, yes.¹ Very solitary, very devoid of Verizon coverage. Best of luck calling 911 about your bear attack, though.

MAPPING IT

“The Willamette, Dammit” is very probably the Willamette Valley - not easy to map as such. Sent to CartoDB a calculated spatial envelope of Willamette Valley Wetland Priority Sites. Greg’s prolly in there somewhere.

HEARING IT