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Thursday, June 15, 2006

New Tucson (or Tuscon)

I've got armfuls of cd books, a bag packed with shorts and tshirts, cameras of every description, my laptop, my iPod, my black, black, black, black inside-and-out rental Sebring, and I'm ready to the frappe that rue.

Off to Tuscon, I am. Or possibly Tucson. Either one of those.

I'll be doing a special seminar out there in the desert, a whole weekend long thing, called "Harnessing The Homicidal Maniac Within: A Seminar In Healing".

Yeah, I thought it sounded like hippy-dippy nonsense too, but then that "healing" part kind of got my attention.

When I return Monday, I will have a long gray beard, I will be wearing robes that look like that towel set your grandma had, and I will become the spokesman for the National Rifle Association. Also, if you say "hello" to me on the street I may shout back at you "Get your hands off me, you damned dirty apes!!" I have been told all this is a natural part of the healing process, so don't freak out.

It's a long drive, but an easy drive. You get on the 10 Fwy and then get off at Tuscon - or Tucson - either one is fine.

The last time I was in Tuscon (or Tucson), I was a small child making the move - via a long sightseeing trip with my family - from Dyess Air Force Base in Texas to Minot Air Force Base in North Dakota. We visited "Old Tucson" (aka "Old Tuscon") a kind of amusement park where you could experience just what it was like in the Old West.

They put on hourly shows too, where men shot each other.

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