BIG FOOT COUNTRY

Two counties -- Shasta and El Dorado -- are so filled with red dingoes that they're ready to scalp folks from civilization, and it would be dangerous to go there. What those folks in the backwoods need is a wake-up call. We should pull a Ron De Santis and ship them all of our fentanyl addicts from the Tenderloin. Solve three problems at once. The way I see it, it would culturally enrich everyone. Down at the church social. In the abandoned office space at the Raley's O.N.E Market. Playing Trumpite bingo.

Then cut them off and put an electrified fence along the border. Oregon can take Shasta, Nevada may rule El Dorado. Chances are they won't.

Unless, of course, oil is discovered there. Then we're sending in the whores and lawyers.

Both places are, of course, ninety percent white. The chances of finding a decent restaurant there, if you're one of the exiled fent-heads, whores, or lawyers, are unremarkably slim. You'd probably keenly await your mail and pack-mule deliveries from civilization every two or three months, with the cans of Folgers and jars of pickled herring so necessary for basic civilized life, as well as Colemans Mustard, Van De Camps baked beans, Heinz tomato paste, and cartons of menthol cigarettes.

COLOURFUL NATIVES

Oops, can't get those ciggies delivered there. We banned flavoured tobacco in California. Apparently it appealed to too many school children, African Americans, Asian and Pacific Islanders, psychologically at risk youth, and LGBTQI+ people. All huffing menthols.
You'll have to treck over the hills for that. Oh woe, the suffering and heartache!

Yeah, um, the reason why there are so many sightings of sasquatch in areas like that is probably because bathing more than once every five or six months is rare up there.
There's really no need. Naturally they're shy when they see another human.

DE RIGUEUR IN THE BUSH

This essay inspired by recent news reports of seccesionary sentiment in the back country. Fair dinkum to them, I say.



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