I left Las Vegas an ounce of mushrooms richer. Some kind stranger benevolently sold them to me at a great price, and I stowed the psychedelic morsels in my bag. My run led me west to San Bernardino, then I turned north to go to Seattle. The Burning Coast flew by over the next couple of days, and I made it to the Emerald City in record time. From there, I turned ninety degrees and bombed down the 80, East Coast-bound. With winter coming on strong, the winds were less than favorable, and in Wyoming, they turned absolutely foul. Eighty miles an hour sustained, with one hundred twenty-mile-an-hour gusts. As a result, the Department of Transportation shut I-80 down, and I parked Ol’ Beatrice off of the main drag in Rock Springs, Wyoming.
Our changing relationship with Irtyru
The morals and ethics of museums displaying human remains have changed considerably over the years, especially since the beginning of the millennium. When the Great…