While I do enjoy writing humorous posts on this blog, occasionally, I feel we need to take a look down the darker rabbit holes of our world. And there are few darker than those involving the growing number of missing persons cases in U.S. national parks.
Here is a poem I wrote back in college, even more fitting now that I have gone vegan.
Fort Kentucky Air Force Base is sometimes referred to as the Area 51 of the East. It is a top-security Everetti base that consists of experimental aircraft test flight runways, regular fighter and bomber aircraft runways, hangars, control towers, satellite dish arrays, droid control centers, fusion weapons storage, Fusion Deployment System control centers, and a large underground and secured facility for housing storage, research facilities and other classified uses. In other words, it’s a party of clandestine activities.
There we were, Mr. Willem Dafoe and I, resting up from our recent trials in the Florida Everglades in the back bed of a dark stranger’s El Camino pick-up car. Little did we know that the man behind the wheel was not just any man, but the infamously unbalanced Florida Man.
Dear Capital One:
Once again I find myself reminiscing, this time about the early aughts, when Willem Dafoe and I got drunk on a fan boat in the Everglades and wrestled some alligators, which turned out not to be alligators but were instead three swamp people with severe eczema.
