Hello it's @otherbrandt again unfortunately and what the hell am I doing with my life. I live in a tent and don't have a job and I wander around collecting trash and taking pictures of it and writing about it like some kind of madman. I don't remember anyone ever telling me that this is what normal people are expected do when they grow up. I think I might have missed a memo about growing up at some point. Even though memos are often written on bright neon-colored paper and affixed at eye level to walls and windows and other objects in high traffic areas they can still be surprisingly evasive, at least to me. I wonder if… oh wait. There it is. The memo I mean. Looks like some pompous self-righteous prick crumpled it up and threw it on the ground. If they haven't been struck by lightning or trampled by wild stallions yet then I hope one of those things happens to them. Actually how about both, I think there's room for both to happen. Probably first the lightning strike, non-fatal obviously but bad enough to induce shock and severely impede motor skills just as a mixture of hail and graupel begins to rain down and hypothermia looms in imminent threat. Then of course after a few hours of suffering incapacitated in such state the stallions come galloping down right out of the setting sun with their eyes on fire and their nostrils flaming all asteam and their manes whipping wildly around in the death-scented wind to finish the job. Well now seeing as how that litterbug prick is nowhere to be seen I guess I'll be the one to pick up their trash and properly dispose of it but first I guess I might as well uncrumple it and see what it has to say:
Stop worrying about what other people think and don't ever grow up.
…
…
Well okay then.
So recently me and my achy and shaky yet somehow seemingly unbreakable Subaru, Yolo McFukitol, were camped at a powerline access point along 165 in the Cibola National Forest near Sandia Park, New Mexico. I don't think we were really supposed to be there, as we had seen some signs earlier in the day saying something about No campgrounds in the Sandias, but technically this wasn't a campground so much as a campsite, so by that logic we probably could have argued our way out of a forest ranger encounter had one in fact occurred. Plus there was a firepit (albeit a rather shoddy one), which usually indicates that best case scenario, camping is okay, and worst case scenario, it's kind of in a gray area:
That's what the firepit looked like when we rolled in. It's a pretty decent start, I guess, but we can certainly do much better.
Let's start with these patches the government slapped down to "prevent covid-19 from escaping the earth's pores and poisoning the air." Obviously these don't need to be here because it's all a conspiracy. Into the trash bag with you then.
No idea what I'm looking at here. Let's call it a smashed up lightsaber hilt and move on.
Oh look, that must be the lightsaber blade. It's been really cold recently so I'm not surprised to see it froze solid and broke right off. Ironically enough even though kyber crystals come from ice caves they are notorious for malfunctioning at below-freezing temps.
Well well well, it would appear that someone has already done my work for me here.
Yes indeed, a bag with trash in it. How thoughtful of them to gather it all up like this so I don't have to. LIGHTNING AND WILD STALLIONS.
I think this used to be a T-shirt. Looks to be all chewed up, perhaps by the pack of coyotes I heard howling last night, or maybe from a few overenthusiastic volleys of buckshot. Incidentally, this closely resembles the clothing of someone who has just been struck by lightning.
Donald Duck orange juice, sure why not. What does Donald have to do with oranges anyway?
Oh look, it's one of those cheese dipper thingies. That takes me waaaay back, and also makes me a little bit hungry.
Hold on…
Is that thing still sealed??
Oh my gods that's an unopened packet of cheese dippers!!
LUNCH IS SERVED
