Besides the photographs of young ladies showing off their knockers I was going over the other night there were several photos of my friends and I in several of the wilderness locations we sought out when we were young to get out of the way of the fucking police and the people who phone the fucking police to do our serious partying. We sure had an eye for beautiful places. The background of the photos were all tall trees, thick moss, clear lakes, rushing streams and magic mushrooms.
Most of those places are changed forever now. The trees may still be tall as moon rockets; the moss thick as an outport Newfie's accent; the lakes still splash like my dog in a shallow pond with hungry fish; the streams still drown out the sound of cautious animal footsteps and the mushrooms are magic as Anne Murray's smile but there are new yuppie homes on the lakeshore. The logging road which once tested the driving skills of severely drunk drivers is now wider - do not want to scratch the new Subaru's paint job.
That's progress, motherfuckers.