Tractor Pulls. There is something about these monstrosities that I really love. Maybe it is because I grew up in the midwest. Maybe it has to do with seeing something that has no practical value in the normal world, yet men pour time and money into these machines, knowing that few people will ever appreciate their efforts. If I were a psychologist for a guy I would prescribe watching some of these competitions. Chapter 1 of Banjo's Natural Folk Remedies for What Ails Ya'.

Regards,

-Banjo

Banjo, in the long ago and swept away prehistory of Harm City—which I just escaped again—before ebony knights and guilty ghosts perched from every stoop and light post, when savage folk such as your banjo-strumming self yet dwelt amongst the ruins which remained of the cyclopean glory erected by your ancestors hoary, I recall well the monthly monster truck and tractor pull events in my hometown. With the roar of engines in the background the radio announcer would shout and it would echo, "Sunday, Sunday! Sunday!!" in ever increasing intensity, announcing what were often inner city events. These gettogethers faded from memory in the mid-eighties as the crack epidemic, Second Heroin War and rabid gentrification and rampant crime made such things unsustainable and even unconscionable in the Great City of Guilt, on the diseased remains of the once teeming Shellfish-water.

Thanks for the journey down memory lane.

However, this activity could be improved by having an event in which condemned criminals armed with prybars, chainsaws, crowbars and body armor did battle with these belching gear dragons.

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