15 + 20 points
Discovering What Doesn't Change by Professor Møbius
June 25th, 2010 9:22 PM
The cozy little town of Malad, ID; in 25 years, enough has stayed the same that my father was able to guide us through it using only memories from a concussed childhood, supporting my hypothesis that the town doesn't really change, merely that people decided to trade houses every few years to keep from killing neighbors that they've been next to for significant percentages of centuries (this phenomena was confirmed as having happened, though the reasoning that was admitted was not what I hypothesized; I further that they're in denial).
This bank looks exactly like an old picture my grandpa took of it on the way leaving 25 years ago.
Not my grandpa's pic, yet older.
Beyond the physical similarities, from what my father was telling me, the town is precisely as boring as it was then as well - the persistence of boredom being a far more interesting phenomena to me than the face that the people of the town have yet to embrace a computer that was intended for something more sophisticated than printing reciepts.
My dad's old house, the same, down to the garage they moved across town 28 years ago, then painted that nasty color.
We were there for the Malad Valley Welsh Festival (which I'm using for my pilgrimage task) and ended up deciding that touring the town was more exciting than sitting through another lecture about welsh lore and it's tie to Mormonism (no offense intended, I just don't care to listen to it when I came to drink and be with my fellow Celts). So we checked out the courthouse, the hospital (where my dad had his own room), my grandpa's machine shop (the old logo of which is still intact, under the new sign), and the Presbyterian Church, constructed when a pastor and his family of 5 moved in 26 years ago - to this day, they still only have 12 attendees (gained some grandkids, lost a kid to the mormons).
All in all, I felt that trepanning would have been more fun than what I put my self through to complete this task, but being the (attempted) upstanding player I am, I'll do anything to get a task done, even facing my singular greatest fear: monotonous, unyielding boredom.
This bank looks exactly like an old picture my grandpa took of it on the way leaving 25 years ago.Not my grandpa's pic, yet older.Beyond the physical similarities, from what my father was telling me, the town is precisely as boring as it was then as well - the persistence of boredom being a far more interesting phenomena to me than the face that the people of the town have yet to embrace a computer that was intended for something more sophisticated than printing reciepts.
My dad's old house, the same, down to the garage they moved across town 28 years ago, then painted that nasty color.We were there for the Malad Valley Welsh Festival (which I'm using for my pilgrimage task) and ended up deciding that touring the town was more exciting than sitting through another lecture about welsh lore and it's tie to Mormonism (no offense intended, I just don't care to listen to it when I came to drink and be with my fellow Celts). So we checked out the courthouse, the hospital (where my dad had his own room), my grandpa's machine shop (the old logo of which is still intact, under the new sign), and the Presbyterian Church, constructed when a pastor and his family of 5 moved in 26 years ago - to this day, they still only have 12 attendees (gained some grandkids, lost a kid to the mormons).
All in all, I felt that trepanning would have been more fun than what I put my self through to complete this task, but being the (attempted) upstanding player I am, I'll do anything to get a task done, even facing my singular greatest fear: monotonous, unyielding boredom.
Aw. Before I saw the pictures, I thought you actually meant Malad, Indonesia.