Day 127

I've been spending some time doing research online, and I know the web must be wrong. Nowhere do I find facts supporting my thoery. I think I need to add a new page to Wikepedia. All of the evidence around me points to only one conclusion; the US Army was an occupying force of this area prior to 9/11. It had to have happened. There isn't a single tree, other than those planted along the roads, anywhere around. And the sheer number of trees the Army cuts down to make reports is staggering. Army paperwork; no trees. See, it works, you just have to want to see it. I, in just the last two weeks, produced enough paperwork to keep a logging crew busy for a season. Of course, the kicker was yesterday. After I did all of my paperwork in triplicate, I was told that I should not be making all of the copies they told me to make. Turns out they'll make the copies after the paperwork is signed. It's just easier, they said, than to have the boss sign the original and then all of the copies. So, yesterday, I dropped a stack of paperwork, fourteen inches high, into the garbage. Somewhere in Amsterdam a stoner is looking for his rolling papers, and can't find them because the US Army took it from him, just so I could throw it away. Maybe there'd be more productivity in the Army if we used the paper for what the guy is Amsterdam is doing rather than making copies we don't need. I'm not saying, I'm just saying. Speaking of trees, or the lack thereof, I miss green. Whenever I see a picture from anywhere else, there's usually grass or trees in the background. I stop and stare. Oh, don't get me wrong, there are a couple of places around here where it's green. I really wouldn't call it grass; it's more like a long fungus that's trying to be grass. It's close enough to grass, though, that whenever I spot it, I have to slow down and stare, longingly, into it's deep, green, mossy soul, where it draws me deeper, deeper, and deeper into the inviting color. But I digress. The entire landscape is alot like snirt. For those of you who don't know snirt, it's a combination of snow and dirt. Think that, and you'll get an idea of what my view is all day long. The Red Sea used to be right where I'm sitting, so think of the flatness of the Red River Valley, covered in snirt, with no trees. Oh; I paint an inviting picture, don't I?