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02 March, 2009

Old Site New Site, Red Site Blue Site

Based on a tip from a 1930s map, I have reason to believe that there are a few cabins hiding back in those woods. Better yet, an inperceptibly higher bit of the foreground could have something much older.
Then, so far in the foreground it's behind me in the first shot, there is this. Smart archaeologists of the future will recognize it as a couple of years' accumulation of offerings. People place tribute such as mattresses, shotgun shells, and stripped cars (not pictured) by gates and at the end of roads on state land. All of these items are meant to provide state workers with a comfortable afterlife. Every once in a while, the priests of this reverse cargo cult arrive with libations and set the offerings aflame after ritually "killing" them with boxloads of the finest ammo.
Had Mr. Geisel lived to this day, I am sure he would've written a book about it. It would've been less boring, more rhyming, and far funnier than what I have to offer, but I am what I am, and that ain't no Dr. Seuss.

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