Cows

The derby story didn’t fly. She wanted to know if we just did a movie. Courtney says yeah. Midwestern mom smiles and promises to buy it. Her car is still running where she drove up next to us. We’re trying not to let her see us laugh and we all wish we could see her face when she gets home and googles it. Her kids will probably cry when she confiscates the autographs. Her husband will probably be pleasantly amused when she buys it anyway.

So now we’re barreling through the Midwest with our porn bus and sandwiches. We have a signing at five two hours from here. Fort Wayne, Indiana. All signs corroborate the theory that we may have just left Ohio. We all want to cow tip because we don’t quite believe that any living thing would go down that easily and still be a strong candidate for it’s continuing presence in this unsympathetic reign of evolution. There are a lot of things out here that make us question the ability of evolution. Kind of like the recently busted myth that free market forces will work it out. And government working it out was nothing more than a fairytale. It is very human to never have considered that maybe nothing can work it out. Maybe it will always ebb and flow and there’s nothing we can do about the ebb. I’ve taken the same stance now with gene frequency and imperfect matings. And cows.