December 3rd, 2009

wayfaring wordhack


Welcome to Pecos, Texas, grower of great cantaloupes, birthplace of the rodeo and me.


Obviously, the first thing you are going to want to do upon entering this decaying ghost-town-in-the-making is to sleep around. Being surrounded by failed businesses, rundown restaurants, sketchy homes where drug deals are always going down, naturally you'd want to check out the only thing shiny in town: the motels that have sprung up along the interstate, giving a false impression that Pecos is a healthy, happening city.

But the sign was in place long before the hotels, so they (the good Baptist churches who paid for the billboard) must have had something else in mind...


Once you've tasted of Pecos hospitality and are on your way out of town, the kindly townfolk feel it necessary to warn you against killing.

Does anyone need wonder why, while I may have been born there, I do not plan on making it my final resting place?

That was one of the many things on my gratitude list this Thanksgiving...