Reflections of Jackson Hole WY

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Before I begin, a word of caution to the reader—If you are a big Starbucks fan, love Westchester county NY, Nassau county NY, Hollywood, Manhattan, are thin-skinned or object to the use of bodily orifices as personal epithets, then please do everyone a favor and navigate away from this page and go back to browsing the Obama website and sipping your mocha-chino latte. Keep reading the soothing propaganda offered there in place of the tacit observations which are about to follow…

I have made the utmost effort to behave in my rants up till this point but that is about to change, and the deviation may offend some. That said, go to Google maps and zoom in on the state of Wyoming. Focus on the northwest quadrant. Zoom in a couple clicks further. See it? The map icon should be display a gigantic anus on your screen when your roll over it with your cursor. I stated in preceding entries that WY was Walden NY with mountains. Apparently that is only partially true. It contains ALL, not just SOME of the the elements I find abhorrent back in good old NY. Jackson Hole is indeed Nassau County, on steroids, with mountains.

Maybe it is due to the fact that this raging disappointment follows such a wonderful time in the Winds, but driving through the gargantuan clusterf*ck that is Jackson Hole made me wish to hurl on the various passersby. I remarked to Stef that it is so unfortunate that the Tetons overshadow such a horrid place filled with the dregs of upper class society—indeed their splendor and magnificence was all but lost with the the Hollywood ilk sucking the magic out of the air with their Eddie Bauer Ford Explorers and fitness spas. While parked waiting for Stef to pick up Sudafed, I overheard one Jay-Hole say to another, “I’ll be right back, I have to run in and pick up some grey poupon.” Not mustard, mind you. Grey Poupon.

Across the parking lot an expensive SUV filled with testosterone addled youths raced up to a kid hanging out in front of yet another organic food store, replete with the western decor enforced upon all the local businesses. They began clamoring back and forth, loudly declaring their intent to get shit-faced and take advantage of some “sluts”. As the SUV sped away, fond farewells were exchanged amidst disturbingly vociferous reminders to “make sure you have plenty of beer and don’t forget to bring some sluts”. This arrogance and moral dereliction is what so much of America now aspires to. In the pasty soft hands of these over-privileged youths we will someday place our future. Food for thought.

Once outside the town proper an alarming amount of signs explicitly forbidding every possible act known to man could be seen littering the roadway. I immediately thought of the song “signs” by Tesla. Never again will I complain about long hikes to a wilderness area. What a stark contrast between the Winds and the Tetons. One offers splendor to the committed few, the other casts pearls before hordes of swine. For those of you familiar with Mohonk in NY, imagine that the Woodbury Commons is out at a bar one night and spots Mohonk Resort* across the room looking innocent and vulnerable in her quaint 19th century Quaker trappings. After some mindless drivel Woodbury Commons slips Mohonk a roofie and the resultant fornication produces a bastard child. That offspring is named Jackson Hole.

I would like to take a moment and say something positive by contrast since I have the chance to do so—tourist towns are a necessary evil and seeing a town like JH made me appreciate tourist towns like Custer, which are able to remain true to their own roots while at the same time welcoming outsiders. Some small towns of the west (Tensleep for one) slam the door in your face without so much as giving you a chance to be a decent human being due to the JH’s of this world, but towns that can manage to keep a balance without being swallowed up by the rampant commercialism and whoredom of our society are now held that much higher in my esteem. As the saying goes, if you cant be a good example, you can at least be a terrible warning. I'm happy to end by saying that I have now seen both. I don’t mean to preach but I tell it like I see it. If you don’t like it, scroll up to the top and re-read paragraph one.


*co-editors note(aka stefanie): correct name is Mohonk Mountain House, not Resort.

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Comments

[gmoney]

hilarious
really? grey poupon really? you know its a weak day when the uppercrust actually falls willingly onto their own cliches. fuck the rich. says a would be barrister.