Dangerous Posturing Inside A Strange And Unsurvivable Bubble.

So I went backpacking this weekend, weather.com looked nice but didn't say anything about the foot of snow already on the ground. I took the Big Dog for his first time out (rescue, older, haven't had the chance to take him), and the kids made me promise not to traumatize him with any risk-taking behavior, to which I solemnly pledged agreement.

So we find ourselves a little cheap motel in Pioneer. I've stayed there before; nice little place. We day-hiked in the snow and had a blast before collapsing back into the motel room to cook and shower. Great vacation. I loved it, he loved it.

Bits of a problem, though, especially Saturday. Why? First day of hunting season.

Three things:

1) 300 pound guy in brand new camo on a brand new 4-wheel ATV (also camo), two scoped rifles in the special holders, boots that looked like they never touched ground, giving me the bloodlust drug-glare. Every hunter I saw was toting twenty grand of tech crap, down to satellite tablets mounted on their ATV's. Every one of them was vibrating like they were on meth, but I think it was just the Bloodlust Drug. I try hard not to judge, but every one of those hunters I saw had the same weird jittery glee, and every one of them was clearly offended that I was not dressed like them nor doing what they were doing.

Naked guy with a knife or a spear slipping through the trees tracking a deer? I'm better with that, can almost respect the devotion to craft. Buncha guys roaring around on trails using satellite tech to murder herbivores? Stupid and ugly.

2) Truck full of hunters at the motel. One older guy sees my Obama sticker, postures and leers at me -- clearly, I'm supposed to be afraid of him; he's got some mental picture of how guys like me are less-than, and he's a-gonna skeer me with his NRA shirt. What I'm really thinking is: dude, you shouldn't mock strangers, you can never tell when you're gonna run into the Bad Dexter, the guy who'll track you down and kill everything you ever loved for the joy of it. I learned that lesson along the way -- the Truly Dangerous always mask. Best to be friendly to strangers. Plain Darwin.

3) Woman in the line at Vic's IGA testifying to the cashier, who echoes her sentiment. Rumbles of agreement from up and down the line -- we gotta teach these kids to fear god, that's what's missing --

Gave me chills. The Clean Hunters and the NRA T-shirt guy didn't scare me, but that lady at the store did. I suddenly felt like I was in Crazy Town, and better watch my back.

I did get a sense of Hard Times. Pioneer looked a little dirtier than last I saw it, more shuttered shops and stands, more destroyed and decaying houses --

I get the Primate Thing. We all tend to look for someone to blame, and we all tend when pressed to let our rage and fear guide us, even expressing it as a Holy Truth -- but history clearly shows that walking that path leads either Nowhere or Badwhere, and the Better Angels and a little Barbara Tuchman will tell us that thoughtful reason and reading and inner study are probably a better bet.

It wasn't all bad. I met cool people here and there, like the Sikh guy at the liquor store and the lady running the front desk at the motel, the big family with kids and dogs hiking to Devil's Lake -- but I live in my own kind of bubble these days, and bumping up against the Other was startling and Weird.

World's still here. Today.