country living. ahh, smell that duststorm in the air; listen to the hypnotic and ceaseless mastication of the grasshoppers.

alright, we've proven our little point. we handled it, more or less. now we can move back into the city and huddle with the other sensible survivalists. you can't live in saskatchewan without huddling. people even huddle with jerks that they can't stand, because living here is like living on the moon - you feel like it's enough just to have the same genus and phylum as someone. now you're comrades and citizens of planet flat.

and there's a weird pride in it, living in a place that's 47 years behind and unpronouncable. those of us who stay are like people with funny hats - obviously we're so self-actualized that we contain our cool. we don't get it from being toronto or a regular sort of coors ball cap. we're funny that way. but salt of the earth, anyone will tell you. like your cousin who lives here. doesn't everyone have a cousin here?

people also stay because they think they'll be a mighty fish in this puddle before long. but it's not in the cards for everyone. not me. i'm 33 and still pretty much a small-medium pickerel. you know, fine for breakfast for one. only jesus could feed the masses with me.