Mounting Patriotism

I'm viewing life from the Mount Rushmore area of South Dakota this week, dodging overweight patriots by the thousands. There are more stars and stripes around here than at a Republican convention, and nary a morsel of tofu for miles. It's alternately fascinating, fun, and frightening. I've been going through scotch and cigars like they were salsa and chips.

If I don't post for the rest of the week, it's because I'm drunk on our nation's birthday. Or I've been accidentally crushed by 350-lbs Nebraskan wrapped in our nation's flag. "Hey lady, there's a little flat New Yorker stuck to the seat of your pants."