Greetings and salutations my friends, it's me again 
So here's the story: Recently me and my dirty unwashed pothead hippie of a Subaru, Yolo McFukitol, were hunkered down camping in a cozy little spot on the southeast side of the Little Lost Creek Conservation Area near Pendleton, Missouri. This campsite had a lot of things going for it, including a nice flat area for pitching my tent, great cell coverage for running DDoS attacks on Facebook, and a fairly clean and sturdy picnic table for enjoying delightful little picnic lunches in the crisp clean soul-crushing autumn solitude. But by far the best feature of this campsite was, nobody else showed up to bother me.
We had been chilling there undisturbed for a couple days reconnecting with nature in a state of pure transcendent focus and meditation, emptying our minds of all base human distractions and practicing the fine art of sloth as helpfully spelled out in the instructions on the back label of a plastic fifth of Caliber Canadian whisky. As I threw down the last of that delicious tan magic and tried to remember where I was, I noticed that YMF was passed out by the firepit, so I rolled him onto his side like any good friend would so he wouldn't get poisoned to death on his own exhaust, and then I went for a walk.
After consulting the ashes of campfires past for guidance I found my direction and went stumbling confidently off into the trees.
Almost immediately I faced my first obstacle: a fork in the road.
I was about to take the fork to the right because it appeared to be the less traveled route that Robert Frost told me would fix all my problems, when suddenly I noticed a sign indicating that the fork to the right was the official trail. Well screw that. Hell if I'm gonna follow any official trails if I don't have to. Left fork it is then, Frost be damned.
Nice try, single sad little log. It's going to take a whole lot more than that to stop me from making progress on this unofficial trail.
Behold, the way ahead is clear.
Why did the sign direct me away from this lovely rustic route?
Perhaps the powers that be are trying to hide something from me?
Speak of the devil! What be this now?
Is that… vodka!?
And what be THIS now?
Ye gods! Is that a CRESCENT ROLL!?!?
Zounds! The universe has once again smiled upon me! Against all odds I have found for myself a free picnic lunch, and all I had to do was ignore the advice of a four-time Pulitzer Prize–winning poet!
I think there's a lesson to be learned here, but I'm starving nigh unto death right now so the learning will have to wait till later!
Thanks be to all the gods for this blessing of sustenance!
As a token of my gratitude, please accept this peace offering of all the garbage I found scattered around my campsite:
I only wish I could offer more.
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🏕 🥃 🐕 🙀
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