Adaptive Curmudgeon

Things which have never happened before can and do happen. It’s always a surprise, which is the root concept of a “black swan event”. The mind tends to reject unprecedented options. We cling to things we’ve already experienced and reject novel ones.

The media reports: “alternative X cannot happen because alternative X hasn’t happened before”. They say this with a straight face.

Yet black swan events happen. The new thing, shocking and unpredictable as it may be, is neither inherently good or bad. It’s just new. Black swans don’t require tragedy.

The black plague, the bomb, moon shots, polio vaccines, horseless carriages… black swans. (Please indulge me the luxury of painting in generalities.) Before these events happened, they would seem ridiculously unlikely. Nobody sat around in 1345 and said “within the decade I expect roughly half of everyone I know to be dead”. If they’d said it, folks would have thought them insane. Afterwards, it was a done deal.

A “magic cure” for polio? An unrealizable dream until Jonas Salk saved millions in 1955. Humans walking on the moon? Horseless carts? All were ridiculous until they weren’t.

Some good, some bad but all an invitation to expand the range of options in our future. Something we weren’t previously entertaining in our limited noggin is now undeniable.

Please stick with that valueless vibe for a bit ok? Thanks! Because now I’m going to shift from painlessly distant history to a raw burning mess happening right now.

Hang on as I turn my inner eye to 2020…

Did 2020 seem to you like a litany of “events that were unlikely to the point of unfathomably weird”? That’s how I saw it. One odd thing after another happened in 2020.

How many things have passed which would’ve seemed “impossible” in 2019? Let me count the ways… Wait! Lets not. I typed pages about weird events in 2020 and barely scratched the surface. Every rabbit hole leads to another rabbit hole. Better stop that cascade of detours; I deleted it all. I’ll return to the matter at hand:

Something happened on November 4th, 2020 at 3:00 am EST. If you’d suggested the series of events a week or a month or a year before the election, people would’ve called you a loon. I propose that a truckload of black swan events in 2020 culminated in (or at least included) a big and overarching black swan event that has become the most distrusted election in American history.

Officially, the following things happened the night of November 3rd:

1. Donald Trump’s second campaign easily matched the 62,984,828 votes he’d won in 2016.
2. Then, Trump easily surpassed his previous performance; improving by 17.8% to earn 74,216,154 votes. This would have been the most votes any person had ever received in American history. Neat!
3. There was a simultaneous pause in vote counting at 3:00 am in several key states. This was for entirely legitimate reasons.
4. By the following day, Joe Biden had set a new record; surpassing Trump’s amazing vote count. Biden hit a home run with nearly ten percent more votes than the previous recordholder! It was a grand slam!
5. In the end, Joe Biden won fair and square with 81,268,924 votes; the most votes ever amassed in American history by far! He blew away the second place record that was also set the very same day. Biden not only exceeded Trump by 10%, he exceeded his former running mate and wildly popular Barak Obama by 16.9%. He kicked ass in an epic contest involving the two biggest vote counts that ever happened. The guy just nailed it!

A black swan event is one we haven’t considered. Think back to 2019. Suppose you said “I think Joe Biden is so awesome that he’ll get more votes than anyone in the history of America.” Folks would have thought you crazy. Nobody… not even Joe Biden… expected numbers like that. I don’t need to go into the details. Y’all have been living it just like I have.

One of two things is correct:

Option A: Joe Biden is most popular candidate ever; by a huge margin.

OR

Option B: The election of 2020 was corrupted in a very significant way.

The government, social media, and the press have supported… no, they’ve enforced… Option A. In our formerly free Republic, anything but agreement with Option A will get you deplatformed and damn near entails legal ramifications.

So that’s it. Option A is the official story. What’s done is done. Right?

Apparently not. In America, great strange chaotic mess that we are, you can’t simply order a thing to be true. You can tell us a thing is true. We’ll go along with it as best we can. Alas, if things go too far we just can’t swallow it. Phrases like “Epstein didn’t kill himself” occur when the people just can’t buy the spin.

Things are only over when the people say it’s over. This is why 2021 feels much like 2020 turned into a zombie that refuses to die.

The people haven’t been beaten, cajoled, or sweet talked into accepting Option A. Don’t believe me? Here’s a test. Find some liberal who’s a true believer. They got the president they wanted. They hated Trump. They ought to be delighted . If anyone is going to buy Option A, it’s a true believer who just defeated the Orange Menace with a record win. This isn’t a test for die hard right wingers, it’s for people already primed to buy the story.

Just ask them to say the true fact. Ask nicely… this is an attempt to find truth not bludgeon someone with whom you disagree. Ask them to repeat this sentence:

“Joe Biden got more votes than any other candidate in American history. Joe Biden is more popular than any other candidate has ever been.”

Don’t demand it in a mean way. Don’t leer and frolic about. Don’t ask it as a challenge. Don’t hurl it at them gauntlet style. Just ask them to say it.

Those are the official facts. It’s truth! Do they believe it?

Many won’t want to say it. They’ll bob and weave. They’ll evade. They’ll change the topic. They’ll bitch about Trump or talk about COVID. They’ll complain about Fox news. They’ll blanch like I’m asking them to eat worms.

Eventually most will say it but they look miserable about it. It’s like I’ve forced them to eat mud. Some won’t; simply refusing to say the official truth.

That’s the tell. Nobody freaks out when I ask them to say something that’s obviously true. I ask them to repeat “the sky is blue” and it’s weird but not something they’ll avoid. Nobody has issues when I ask “do bears shit in the woods?” We’re all willing to simply state a fact.

Speaking exactly what is published in every newspaper as the official truth doesn’t go down well. I can get a guy to scream “Yankees rule!” or “Trump’s a shithead!” or “Ford beats Chevy”. No big deal. Getting them to mumble that the 2020 election was a fair count is very different.

Phrasing is important here. There’s a difference in the human mind between “you’re just a Neanderthal that hates the election results” and “Joe Biden absolutely won more votes than any other candidate in history.” Calling me a Neanderthal doesn’t mean shit. For startes, it’s irrelevant. If people really thought the 2020 count was sound “Joe Biden won the record number of votes” wouldn’t sound like a joke about Epstein.

Biden earned more votes than anyone in American history. Even if it’s true… nobody believes it.

That’s the first black swan event… an election that virtually nobody trusts. The folks that got what they want don’t appear particularly happy. They don’t act proud of their honest accomplishment. They don’t buy the story and don’t have an easy “out” for that emotion.

I get it. Folks really wanted to beat Trump and there’s probably always a little bit of cheating. It’s not like we live in a naïve fairyland. However, there’s a difference between a few percent and a broken record. Cheating feels bad. Having a large, obvious, and ugly cheat makes it worse. Cheating to win a close squeaker might feel palatable. Cheating to define a record vote count the likes of which are almost impossible to believe is the black swan.

At least that’s my theory. What unexpected is not cheating… it’s the scale. This leads to my other theory. The resolution to an unexpected thing is often another unexpected thing.

I believe one black swan is about to beget another black swan.

Stay tuned as I endeavor to drag my mental ruminations across the finish line.

A black swan event is one that’s never happened before but can and does occur. Because of it’s novelty, it shocks the hell out of people that don’t see it coming. If you’re trying hard to think logically, you know that everything had to happen “unexpectedly” a first time but we just don’t think that way.

Black swan horrors: I read a lot of history and see “unexpected events” everywhere. With 20:20 hindsight of reading it in a book hundreds of years later, the “unexpected event” almost seems inevitable. Halfway though the chapter can see exactly where things were headed. The people in the middle of events can’t step away from themselves to get the same perspective. This means reading history is sometimes like a horror movie; you can’t believe the dipshit teenagers take shelter in the creepy old farmhouse…

Person reading history centuries later: “Noooo! Don’t do that stupid thing!”

Person in the middle of the events: “Don’t worry, we’ve done this before and it more or less worked out. This time’s gonna’ be about the same.”

It’s crazy to ponder the effect of “unprecedented” on humans. We rely so much on precedent for our thinking that it limits our minds.

Limited thinking sometimes leads to death. American history before the civil war suggests nobody expected it to become the bloodbath that ensued. Once it got going, nobody could stop it. It went further off the rails than anyone expected. I suppose World War One and the French Revolutions might be a bit like that.

Those aren’t the best examples of “unexpected” but they’re good examples of “ignoring other options until you’ve plunged into total horror”.

Black swan miracles: Other “this has never happened before” events come completely out of nowhere. There’s just no way most folks could have reasonably expected it. Surprisingly, the outcome sometimes works out well for everyone. I call this the “black swan miracle”.

Miracles can and do happen. Later on, as we get used to the miracle, we forget all about the time when our current knowledge was “unprecedented”. We take it for granted. We become complacent. We get jaded. We never expect the next black swan miracle.

Here’s a black swan miracle that really happened:

New York City resident in 1899: “We’re fucked. In order to supply our growing population, we’re using 100,000 horses.”

Curmudgeon in 2021: “Yeah, so?”

New York City resident in 1899: “They’re dropping 2,500,000 pounds of shit on the streets every day! We live on an island, there’s only so much room for all that shit. Hauling it away is getting out of control. We can’t handle the problem.”

The Times of London in 1894: “We report that in 50 years every street in London will be buried under nine feet of manure!”*

Curmudgeon in 2021: “Relax. Aint’ gona happen.”

Everyone in the 1890’s: “The science is settled. We’re doomed!”

Curmudgeon in 2021: “There’s a new technology coming. Soon you’ll have carts that move without horses at all. No horses, no horseshit.”

New York City resident in 1899: “How will these carts move? Magic wands?”

Curmudgeon in 2021: “A new kind of metal engine. Runs on a small amount of liquid. Emits only vapor. You’re gonna’ love it.”

New York City resident in 1899: “Every cart since the dawn of mankind has been pulled by animals or people. That’s ten thousand years of history. Imaginary self moving magic carts have never existed. They are impossible.”

Curmudgeon in 2021: “Have I explained that black swans were impossible until someone saw one?

New York City resident in 1899: “Get away from me creep.”

The miracle really happened. Nobody solved the horseshit situation. Humanity solved the “magic carts that move differently than anything in human existence” situation. You cannot blame people for not expecting magic self moving horseless carriages.

It had a big impact on society. Everyone’s wealth and standard of living soared. Rockefeller’s Standard Oil got richer than God while a million horse liveries faded out. Etc…

(The change was profound. We now refer to “buggy whip manufacturer” as a company that’s mired in obsolete technology. The Eastman Kodak Company is a more recent example. A hundred years of success with camera film led to them getting completely mauled by filmless digital cameras in the 1990’s.)

As for Manhattan, it was not buried in horseshit in 1905. Nor was any other city. In modern times, Americans only fret about shit in the streets where homeless humans shit in the gutters. Frankly, I’d prefer Clydesdales shit to drug addict shit but I don’t live in California so it’s none of my business.

On to part 3

A.C.

*Notice the eternal ability of the press to predict almost certain doom at X years from today. I suspect the timing of the doom is key. It needs to be not too soon (next Tuesday is too soon and nobody will buy it) but not more than one generation into the future (200 years from now is far enough away that nobody cares). Mass starvation, the rise of Cthulhu, a revival of disco, war with Eastasia… whatever it is must be arriving at just the right time in the future. Far away but not ignorably far away. That’s why Al Gore of the early 2000’s talked about glaciers disappearing in 15-ish years. In 2021 we can see that most glaciers didn’t get the memo but Al isn’t in the press. Plucky Greta took his place and restarted the process with new dates. Maybe Al gave her some pointers.

Forgive me for I’m about to shamelessly pull esoteric data from Wikipedia. Relax, I’ll get to the point eventually; and I actually do have one.

There once was a phrase that meant “this thing doesn’t exist”. It popped up in second century Rome as “rara avis in terris nigroque simillima cygno”. (I don’t speak Latin so I’m trusting Wikipedia spelled it correctly.) What that meant was “a rare bird in the lands and very much like a black swan“.

Everyone in Rome had seen a swan. Probably everyone in the whole damn Roman Empire had seen a swan. Every swan everyone had seen everywhere was white. Black swans simply didn’t exist. After the totality of human existence and all of known civilization examining every swan they saw, the science was settled. Black swans were impossible

A black swan was a good analogy for something that can’t exist. You could compare them to honest politicians, a pizza that has no calories, or drinking a bottle of bourbon without a hangover.

“Did the new politician reduce my taxes to zero?”

“Did you vote for a black swan?”

“Awwww… shit.”

We have similar sayings in modern America. When we want to say “yes, definitely” we can say “does a bear shit in the woods?”

“Yo, Curmudgeon, did you bring your hunting rifle?”

“Does a bear shit in the woods?”

“Cool! Lets go.”

See? Certain phrases just work.

The black swan analogy was so good that it outlasted several languages, the rise and fall of empires, and the passing of various civilizations. The Romans kept using it for centuries. The saying persisted throughout the Medieval period. It persisted through the Renaissance. It was going strong in the Early Modern Period.

Then some asshole ruined everything.

In 1697, Dutch explorers found black swans in Australia. Nearly two thousand years of a really excellent analogy for “this thing doesn’t exist” and then some dude in a boat finds that exact thing. It ruined the whole analogy!

“I’m looking for an honest horse dealer and they’re as rare as a black swan.”

“Well actually, black swans were found in Australia.”

“Shut up Poindexter!”

Recently, the black black swan analogy has taken on a new and more interesting meaning. It’s good for describing something big and important that nobody sees coming because it’s never happened before. Nobody thought it possible or even considered it… right until it came knocking on the front door. When it happens and shocks the hell out of everyone, we retroactively think “gosh, we could have considered that outcome but we just didn’t know it was possible”.

It’s a useful concept. It’s sometimes used in risk analysis and economics. Also, there’s this one blogger that really wants you to grok the concept so he can move on to part 2 of this post.

Remember, the whole point of black swans is because nobody had ever seen one it was  very hard to entertain the possibility one could happen. The human mind isn’t wired that way. We expect tomorrow to be more or less like yesterday.

Yet things that we’ve never seen before occur all the damn time. It makes sense that it would. A thing that hasn’t yet happened isn’t removed from the realm of possibility. We just can’t quite manage that level of thinking.

Bears, presumably, still shit in the woods.

Stay tuned for part 2.

Two years ago I bought a two way satellite communicator. It goes against my grain to have such a gadget, but it was the right call.

It’s wise to develop a reasonable, measured, approach to self-preservation. Smart men acquire and learn to use the appropriate equipment for that purpose. (I carefully phrase myself to differentiate from a society that’s pants shitting hysterical about the smallest risk. Also, I don’t want to be lumped in with the “count on good luck” crowd. Fuck them both!)

Develop a “backup plan”. Pick what you need and have it ready; first aid kits, winches, firearms, a pack of matches, whatever. Most important is the mindset to understand and use these things. Keeping your own ass alive is the first requirement of an adult; don’t outsource core responsibilities!

Also “safety” doesn’t mean avoiding all risk. If you’re wearing a mask while weeping alone in your gated community you’re not safe, you’re dead. Safety means paying attention to risk, not being a whiny little bitch.

If you spend a fair amount of time in nature; especially if you’re like me and go  alone, you might want to consider a SpotX. I prefer the SpotX to more primitive PLBs because I can use it for non-emergencies. That develops trust and habits that will matter should shit get real. It’s not for everyone. It’s an expensive piece of kit. There’s a bit of lag when sending texts to satellites. It sucks as a GPS navigator. It has one main dedicated use and won’t play games or take a photo of the fish you just caught. That’s a selling point to me. Your cell phone does everything which means it does a lot of it poorly. In my opinion, phones don’t cut the mustard. They’re meant for domestic spying on mall walkers and not as a safety device for explorers. Just my opinion of course.

A key part of safety gear is maintenance of the gear AND the user. Use and test safety gear over and over. If it’s an electronic gadget, play with the settings and when it’s not important. Y’all already know this.

Maintenance is easy with a SpotX. I carry it around even on short hikes when I don’t expect to need it. Now that I think of it, that’s exactly the best time to have it. One should never expect to get in over their head! If so, why did you go there?

As for use and test, I occasionally send messages that aren’t important “This is Curmudgeon, I’m at location XYZ. I just took a shit on a tree stump. Just wanted you to know. Have a nice day.” This trains me to send messages. It trains my “response team” to receive messages. I include my own cell phone on the recipients list so I’ve formed a good idea how quickly the message gets to a cell phone that’s in service. (Good info to know when you’re not in a service area!)

People matter too. If you have nobody to call, what good is your ET Phone Home gadget? (There is an S.O.S. button that goes to a professional agency. I’ve never had to use that. I probably never will. That’s why I have lower level “I got a sprained ankle and need a hand” friends on tap. There’s a lot of small shit you could encounter well below the level of “send the Coast Guard with a helicopter” situations.)

One last note, our day to day communication system is amazingly global. Friendly contacts don’t have to be geographically adjacent. If I’m in Kentucky, I can easily benefit from a message sent to Alaska. A friend can make a hotel reservation or try to hunt up a motorcycle part or tell me if there’s a tornado watch at my location. They might render aid having never left their living room; possibly while I’m still trying to get to the road.

For two years the SpotX has been basically flawless. Unfortunately, during a recent “walkabout” it froze up. First time ever! Say it with me kids, this is why we test our equipment.

It had been fine just a few days ago but when I grabbed it to go on a hike, it wouldn’t fire up. I assumed the battery was dead but that wasn’t it. Eventually I had to do a reset; which means pressing the power and select buttons simultaneously for 12 seconds. That fixed it. It is fine again. No harm no foul.

Lesson learned: pressing the power and select buttons simultaneously for 12 seconds resets a SpotX. No big deal but I needed the internet to figure it out. I would never have been able to sit on a mountain top and “figure it out”. Who would?

In case you’re wondering, I went on my adventure that day without the SpotX. I’m cautious but not a wimp. Nor is SpotX my only “plan b”. I got so many backups to my backups I’ll run out of alphabet before I run out of options.

Anyway, if you buy one the reset procedure is a little bit of knowledge to store away. I’m probably going to put a note on the case so I never forget.

If you’re looking for a deeper two year long term review you’ll have to wait. Short version is that it has done everything I’ve asked of it every time in all conditions flawlessly for two years. What more could you possibly want? Drawbacks are that it’s a bit expensive and it feels like overkill for a short hike. The battery is very good but not magic. I’m not great about keeping it charged but that’s on me.

Remember, this ‘aint a cell phone. Cell phones are optimized for teenage dipshits posting selfies on TikToc. A SpotX is specifically designed to save your ass. Don’t confuse the two.

Also, the SpotX is just fine to turn off and ignore. A cell phone messes with your head and it’s hard to trust that it’s private even when it’s theoretically shut down. Given the choice between a handy rugged safety tool and a creepily invasive spying device that has a disturbing dopamine like mental effect on the user… you know my preference! Here’s my cell phone theme song:

Earlier posts about SpotX purchase and in use:

• • Gear Review: SpotX: Part 1
  • Gear Review: SpotX: Part 2: Philosophy
  • Gear Review: SpotX: Part 3: Details Q & A
  • Gear Review: SpotX: Part 4: More Q & A
  • Gear Review: SpotX: Part 5: More Q & A
  • SpotX Privacy / Rockwell, Somebody’s Watching Me (1984)
  • SpotX Pricing: Apples And Oranges
  • TW200: Gadgetry (Mounting a SpotX on a dirtbike.)
  • Flashlight Followup: Part 1 (Charging a SpotX with a dual purpose flashlight.)
  • Flashlight Followup: Part 2

I’m still on a walkabout. I’m still blogging with a pen. Who knows when it’ll get digitized? Time is less important at the moment. As with all things, it’ll be done when it’s done.

Not a minute before.

In the meantime, I’ve got a bit of Wi-Fi and a basic happy thought.

The future is now: Dehydrated camping food no longer sucks.

Sure, it’s not perfect. Sure, you can bitch about it. Sure, you’d rather have a nicely grilled salmon steak served on bone china with a glass of wine and fresh bread on the side. But… for what it is… it’s at least OK.

In my opinion, backpacking food has leveled up. Most of it is entirely palatable. It’s easier to prepare. Relatively speaking, it’s cheaper than it once was. It’s light to carry. It’s easy to clean up the mess afterwards. It’s a matured and all around superior product.

None of it tastes like the revolting constipation machine of a 1990’s MRE.

I for one am grateful for it. If I’ve got to live through a smart-phone addled, inflation ridden, backwards sliding, commie-ific, science fiction dystopic madhouse of domestic spying and faulty logic… at least I can appreciated the handy backpacking food. Yum!

Stay sane. Observe rule#32!Now for a bit of nostalgia. TV Dinners, as originally created, tasted like shit but the one thing they had was promise! We all wanted them to live up to their potential. The little tinfoil compartments for individual components… who didn’t love that? It was so damn classy! By comparison, spooning food from the ziplock pouch of a modern Mountain House seems a mite uncouth. That said, the old stuff  tasted like industrial by-products and the new stuff ‘aint half bad. It took decades but they finally made it work!

I’ve been writing blog posts every day. Have you enjoyed them? This is where I’ve been writing:

On second thought, the processing lag time is significant. It might take a while before they’re online. Please be patient. Thanks.

From Knuckledraggin My Life Away:

Pure gold! I’m just providing the first few lines to pique your interest. Click here to read it all:

Karen: Have you gotten your COVID shot yet?

Me: No, but I identify as a vaccinated person.

Karen: What does that mean?

Me: It means I am a vaccinated person trapped inside an unvaccinated body.

Karen: That doesn’t make sense!

Me: Don’t you deny my truth! That’s oppression! This space is supposed to be free of vaccine-ism.

Monsters like Hitler, Mao, and Stalin couldn’t take a joke. Neither can lesser demons like the Karen screeching at children in the playground, the bully in your HOA, or the human nullity in the HR department. Laugh well and laugh often; it’s for your own health.

I’m not a huge fan of official campgrounds. I prefer dispersed camping. Then again I’m not picky. Sometimes good enough is just fine.

I often want nothing more than a place to sit for the night and a place to have a little campfire. Here’s some life advice from the Curmudgeon; never let the desire for “awesome” stop you from having a “not so bad” trip.

Sometimes it’s just fine to park my ass at a campsite and forget all about the glorious, multi-week, outback trip that ‘aint in the cards at the moment. So, campsites have a place.

I bitch about the $25 (or whatever) fee but it’s worth it. I can set my tent up in 90 seconds (not exaggerating!) and my cot and mattress are the kind of luxury no backpacker has ever seen. I’ll grumble about a crowded campsite and then half an hour later realize I’m fat and happy sitting a tree somewhere and it’s all good. (With the exception of Yellowstone National Park. The cretins that run YP Campsites are just plain assholes! I dunno why that particular place sucks so bad? I assume they they breed their parkies in a pit of smug. A haughty obnoxious breed; formed from the clay of failed dreams and beaten hourly with a book of regulations regulations, they’re simply detestible in behavior and attitude. Yellowstone unleashes the most sexually repressed, humorless, badge sniffing, power tripping, fucknuts they can find. On who? On poor innocent tenters who just want to look at the pretty scenery. If all the parks in the Nation got together and had a competition over who’s staff had the most humorless pretentious fucksticks… the Yellowstone guys would be out in the parking lot writing up parking tickets.)

Anyway, parks generally don’t like you bringing your own firewood and I get that. It’s one of the few rules I actually accept as not some evil illuminati plan to rule the world. They’re attempting (mostly futilely) to cut back on invasive pests in forestland. No shit, that’s a thing. Historically it’s stuff like Dutch Elm Disease, Chestnut Blight, and White Pine Blister Rust. For those, the horse already left the barn. Right now, at least out East… there’s Emerald Ash Borer. I seem to recall a pine borer in the Black Hills too… though I forget the entomology at play with that one. Anyway, shit happens when you pick up stuff from one place and move it somewhere else. I don’t want to cause it.

I’m old enough to remember parks just having a pile of wood hanging around. Detritus from whatever landscaping and hazard tree removal they’d done. That was nice. “A tree fell across the bike path and we chopped it up. There’s a pile out yonder. Grab what you need.” My youth must have been an innocent time because that’s long gone. Now, parks charge ridiculous fees for a little bit of wood. Seven bucks for an armload? The market rate is $150 a cord! Seven bucks for a handful of sticks when a C-note will buy a chest high wall running 16′ linear feet? The mind boggles. Camping is historically supposed to be a good option when you’re poor; count on bureaucracies to mess that up.

I found a personal solution. I started by rooting through my scrap heap and found kiln dried dimension lumber. Aint’ no bugs in that. I also scrounged some pallets (which are also kiln dried and milled). This is all (as far as I can tell) totally allowed.

Here’s some scrounged raw materials:

Pallets pretty much suck in raw form. You need to disassemble the mess and get all the nails out without somehow stepping on one and getting tetanus. Good luck. I figure about 1/3 of the pallet stock was just too messy. I chucked that portion back in the pile. For the rest, I whacked the pallet stock into nice little chunks; carefully removing any hint of a nail. They’re all bone dry. There’s not a nail, nor a staple, nor anything else left. Any hint of crap and the piece got chucked. I wound up with perfect little bits of fuel for a Curmudgeon looking to percolate his coffee.

I sprung for a clean new trash can (park people are tense about such things so I’ll keep everything real clean).

I’m not sure how to strap the can in my truck without having the lid blow off. I’ll improvise and report back if it worked.

It ought to be enough for several little campfires. I’m feeling pretty clever about it. Now I’m off to kick back and read a book by the fire. Where? Anywhere but Yellowstone, because fuck those guys.