Things fall apart; the center cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Melinda, our cowgirl heroine, clearly had the blues. She tried a restorative whiskey at a saloon, but it was watered stock and left her with a headache and no reason for that excuse.
She rode her pinto into an unfamiliar town while it was foggy, and found things were awry. Rudeness prevailed. The wait staff in restaurants were snotty, even without the required French accents.
The politicians, as usual told lies. But not becoming ones. A National election was in the near future. It's an 'Anything Goes' atmosphere; without the saving grace of Cole Porter's wit.
Letters to a newspaper attributed all sorts of enormities and unattractivenss to women attending an Institute of Technology. And they play deplorable football also.
Religious figures, as usual, made mountains out of molehills. But compounded the problem by using material from sanitary landfills to help the augmentation process.
Piercings were offered for sale in amazing locations. Melinda was content to wear her clip-on earrings that matched her spurs.
Poor Melinda, she had wished to chill out in town for a few days, but changed her plans. There were too many people who had used the locoweed (lobelia) to excess.
Upon leaving our heroine finally got an insight when she saw the sign:
PRETTY PASS, COLO (pop. 414)
So, later on, she was not surprised when someone said to her a discouraging word.
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