After seeing the wonders of Yellowstone, what could possibly be more impressive than that? The Grand Tetons! Wow!
And I saw my first moose today — four of them, actually. They were peacefully standing by the Snake River, drinking martinis and wearing Raiders T-shirts (just kidding).
Then my next stop was Jackson Hole, where they have a store that sells the world’s best ice cream. “No, no, no! The world’s best ice cream comes from Russia,” somebody said, and we were about to come to blows over this but then the conflict got resolved when we discovered that apparently the people who make MOOS ice cream also come from Russia. I’m so glad I don’t live in Jackson. I’d eat a MOOS every day.
Then while I was happily gawking at all the tourists in Jackson — who in turn were gawking at the Million-Dollar Cowboy Bar, the Snake River Grill, the Wort Hotel and phony cowboy leather jackets for sale for thousands of dollars each, Jackson got hit by a humongous thunder storm and I had to run for it, catching the city bus to keep out of the downpour.
“I hear that Dick Cheney lives around here,” I commented to one of the other passengers — and, boy howdy, was he ready to spill!
“I hate Dick Cheney!” he said. “When I was a kid, I used to throw rocks at his house. But now he lives out in the high-and-mighty part of town and you can’t even get close enough to hurl.”
Hey. I hate Dick Cheney too!
“That man is responsible for killing almost as many women and children as Stalin.” Well, maybe not THAT many. But close — if you count all the American GIs killed in his totally unnecessary foreign wars and the million-plus dead Iraqis and Afghans….
“That Cheney is such a cold fish. I bet that ice runs in his veins,” continued my home-grown political analyst — as I enthusiastically nodded my head.
“But what pisses me off most,” I replied, throwing in my two cents worth too, “is that he pretends to be such a Wyoming cowboy. Ha. A Spandex cowboy maybe….”
“No, Cheney’s not a cowboy. He’s an oilman, just like Bush. Wyoming is one of the largest producers of coal in the world. And there’s oil here too. Cheney’s got his fingers in all of that. The man is a vampire, draining Americans of every cent he can get.”
I couldn’t argue with that. Plus there was a full moon last night. “So. Tell me. Where does Cheney keep his crypt?”
“Sorry, lady — you look like a nice person and all that, but for all I know you could be with the CIA. I’m not gonna tell.”
“Not even if I promise to buy you a hot caramel sundae from MOOS?” Faced with that kind of suptle interrogation technique, the man broke down and spilled the location of Cheney’s secret vampire crypt to me, right there on the bus. But a lot of good that’s gonna do me — I forgot to pack any garlic.
PS: My next stop on this trip will be Salt Lake City, where I’m scheduled to hear the Mormon Tabernacle Choir sing — and then it’s on to Bryce National Park. “Nothing around me but Rockies and sky….”
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To see some of my photos, click here: http://jpstillwater.blogspot.com/2010/09/dick-cheney-other-illusive-wildlife-in.html
