There have been those that have accused me of being a 'glamor whore' - more interested in the glittery surface of parties than in meeting any of the people involved. Well last night I headed for a Raccoon Hunting Club, driving down a snow covered wooded lane toward the sound of banjos to enjoy a bluegrass band.
And it was all rather fun. Okay so the room was thick with smoke, the raffle seemed to be rigged and rather than offering milk in the 50c coffee they squeezed an old guys artery directly into the cup (quicker than waiting for the other alternative, half and half, to congeal)
I talked to the locals. I watched in horror as a woman who looked like a reanimated corpse in one of Dolly Parton's long dead wigs clog danced, I grew misty eyed as the old couple rocked a Johnny and June Carter Cash song on stage and I took lots and lots of pictures.
Hell I nearly signed up for the $7 rabies shots and the 20mm shooting range. Fun though,
2 comments:
Wasn't it fun though? Reminded me a lot of Namibian farmers events.
"Hell i almost even signed up" - Well I'll be. Appears ya'll comin' as 'merican as racoon hunters. Amen.
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