“They had all the news from all around the world just crammed into four pages. Didn’t even have any funnies in there, you know? Every time you turned a page something just jumped right out at you. …” — John Prine, “Dear Abby”
Read enough news and something will definitely jump right out at you.
Sadly, we no longer have John Prine to write songs about it.
Nevertheless, there I was, sipping my morning coffee, slouching aimlessly from pillar to post on the Interwebs, just waiting to get jumped by something.
And suddenly, boogity boogity boogity, there it was.
The Colorado Sun had a piece about the Moosejaw Business Accelerator, which in conjunction with Western Colorado University in Gunnison helps entrepreneurs with the theory and practice of launching outdoorsy businesses.
The story featured a fellow with an 18-pound, thousand-buck ruck that comes with most everything a larval backpacker needs; a duo working on a clothing line for “plus-sized” adventurers; and a bikepacker whose outfit makes “plant-based, gluten-free dehydrated meals for backpacking.”
They were all enthusiastic and effusive and by golly, good for them. I hope they’re all thundering successes.
And then I stumbled onto a New York Times story about how the end of pandemic-era federal funding for emergency housing is forcing Vermont to evict homeless people from subsidized motel rooms and into (wait for it) tents.
With waiting lists for shelter beds and transitional housing, the only option available to most of those forced from hotels this month was a free tent. Across the state, social service workers handed out camping equipment, a gesture that pained providers like [Jess Graff, director of Franklin Grand Isle Community Action, a nonprofit agency in St. Albans], who saw 28 households displaced from hotels in her area of northern Vermont on June 1.
“Even purchasing the tents is awful, because you’re in the store with a cart full of camping equipment, and people are saying, ‘Looks like a fun weekend!’” she said.
“A fun weekend.” Like, say, camping in a Brattleboro cemetery. Might see the odd plus-sized person out there trying to stay dry among the tombstones. But I bet s/he’s not sporting a thousand-buck ruck.
Some days I wonder whether we have the right foot on the wrong accelerator.
Mad Blog Media 
And I read that some lady got blown away camping in a tent down off of Central and Louisiana in the Zuni war zone. I bet she didn’t have no thousand buck rucksack or gluten free meals. Does that Colorado Sun piece have any articles about bulletproof sleeping bags or quick release holsters you can hang from the tent flap?
https://www.abqjournal.com/news/woman-sleeping-in-tent-shot-and-killed-in-albuquerque/article_af6e20e2-0ebd-11ee-b907-5773aaacf6c6.html
When I look at the crap that is being marketed to people with more money than brains, and people being shitcanned out the back of the bus like that lady, I really want to give up on society. Fuck ’em all, and let God sort it out.
Yeh, I read that too and forgot to include it. Man, they’ll shoot ’em on the street, in their cars, in their apartments, and even in their tents down here. I might have to speak with Voler about designing some stylish Kevlar kit.
“And the news just repeats itself, like some forgotten dream that we’ve both seen.” John Prine – Hello In There
Our neighbor, a young 90ish, just had a serious stroke. Been dealing with that too, making sure the family doesn’t need any help from we recent immigrants to the neighborhood.
Dammit, I miss John Prine. The humor, compassion, and tightly controlled anger.
I can’t even get through the opening riff of that song without tearing up.