not a great day

No one controls the weather; a lack of storms is no one's fault. And the weather is changing. There should be more to see soon.

But geez, our tour leader is a piece of work. We started today in Scotts Bluff, Nebraska, like this:


OK, SUVs need service, and a slow weather day is an OK time to do it.

But then, with no attempt at consensus, and apparently only because our leader wanted to do it, we drove for hours to South Dakota to spend some time at Mount Kitschmore.


As you may know, Mt Rushmore was conceived from the get-go as a tourist trap by local civic leaders hoping to reverse the decline of the region after the tail end of the gold rush in the Black Hills. They needed something to draw tourists, and so commissioned the big sculpture. It has nothing to do with South Dakota; it could have been sculpted on any mountain, anywhere. It's a deeply cynical, wholly artificial thing, cloaked in patriotism, but designed solely to draw tourist dollars. (And fabulously successful, at that.) Kitsch on a grand scale is still kitsch.

I had suggested we visit the nearby Agate Fossil Beds National Monument, a wholly natural feature largely ignored by tourists, and good enough to be a National Monument. Much better than a sculpture that could be anywhere, the local fossil beds are intrinsic to their location, and part of what makes the area what it is, down at the level of its most fundamental geologic history. No; our leader made the unilateral decision to join the crowds at Rushmore's artificiality.

More hours of driving later, back into Nebraska, and he turned off to an Indian casino for a "30 minute" visit, because he wanted to gamble. I stayed in the car with several others; I take reasonable risks for pleasure, but the certain losses of casino play simply don't appeal. If you play long enough, you will lose, guaranteed. What's the attraction?

Ninety minutes later, he emerged. He stayed the extra time, we were told, because he got involved with his gaming. Gee, swell.

In the meantime, some small storms had popped up back near Scott's Bluff. He raced us southward, hustling us through rest stops because time was short--- time he had wasted gambling.

We missed the storms.

Tonight we're back in in Scotts Bluff. The weather looks better (or worse, depending on your viewpoint), and we may see something in the next couple days.

This guy had better be a god at storm chasing, because the rest of his business performance really, really sucks.

Grrrr.