#348 Leveled

I was thinking about Prozac and how it levels moods so effectively. It’s the ultimate psychic neutral. People coasting through one slightly pleasant shade of gray, one day to the next. They’re going through the motions, they’re just not going through the e-motions.
Not me. I find things to get me excited all the time. At least mildly. The other day I’m driving out in the country and I go by this store. Small towns, by their very nature, often have to have stores that do more than one thing. For one thing, there are fewer buildings, for another, there’s not enough business to totally specialize. So, like a poor man’s portfolio, they have to diversify. General mercantiles are the mutual funds of the small town business environment. Anyhow, on one side of this building is a sign announcing bead classes. On the other side is a sign that says gun shop. At first, I thought it was two places. But after driving by a few times I’m pretty sure it’s an all-in-one shop. Perhaps, residual sexist that I am, the guy has the gun shop and his wife has the bead shop. Perhaps it’s the reverse. G.I Jane has the armor-piercing 50-caliber anti-tank deer hunting rifles and Fred has a nice bead shop with a little feng shui décor business in the corner by the indoor waterfall. Maybe it’s all together. Guns are cool and guns are fun, as they say, and beads, well, they make great buck shot. Next time hunting season rolls around, why pepper your 8-pointer with toxic lead pellets when you can accessorize his haunches with a behind full of beads? Nothing perks up a great venison steak like a glistening variety of fire-polished beads. And what better way to fire them than from an over-and-under thirty-thirty pump action hunter’s buddy? Speaking of hunters. Even they’ve learned the benefits of day-glo orange. You can have all the camouflage patterns you want, deer and most game can only see in black and white, but it’s your fellow hunters you have to worry about. And Buckhorn Beer, the hunter’s other buddy, has led to many a fellow hunter wandering into the wrong place at the wrong miller time. Even a faceful of bead-shot can hurt like heck. Ask any 70-year-old lawyer. But other people need to get a clue about cami too. The other day I saw something that made me pull up short. And he was lucky I saw him and I did. He was a bicyclist riding on the edge of a county road, you know, with trees, bushes, and country wildflowers. And the idiot was wearing camouflage clothing. Excuse me. I think you miss the point, mister eco-cyclist. People in cars need to see you. Their giant SUVs have Onstar not radar. Put on some dayglo, some neon chartreuse, and some strobe lights. Don’t wear camo!
"I’m sorry officer, I didn’t see him."
"Hell I can’t see him now."
"He’s right there."
"That dead looking bush on top of that crushed bicycle?"
"That’s him."
"Or was until you leveled him."
America, ya gotta love it.