Where the deer and the antelope play

In my last job which I like to call encapsulating all aspects of manliness into one human organism, I tried to let the kids learn something about America. In doing so, sometimes I would randomly break out in a solo. Usually I sang the national anthem, America, the beautiful, god bless america, etc. But at one point when i was making a barbed wire fence it seemed fitting given our surroundings to sing "home on the range". I realized I only knew the one verse, and I inquired with a girl who had internet on her pda device to check it out. Turns out there is more to the story, which i intended to learn, but have not yet done so.

So I was back on the range. Saw the family a few times. Saw the more recently added members of the family, a few nurses who may or may not work for the biggest government entity to be run by vampires- still looking into that one. Helped feed some homeless dudes, talked to some people, and saw of course the best dog in the world. In the midst of all this seeing of living and non-living things, I threw a lot of trash away, got rid of even more excess, and tried to pack the most needed things into not a lot of space that would have to last me the better part of a year. Needless to say, there was no chance of leaving the numbchucks behind, and the same goes for a jumprope with wooden handles that I cannot remember ever using, and will probably never use.

After all the packing and preparation, which was mainly just the packing, it was off to the big apple to see an old friend, and flap my way across the Atlantic- or, Big Green Lake, as the native jojoba tribe called it before the white devils arrived on the east coast of America and devastated most of the population.