Roadkill and Nose-picking
My Mamaw lives in a very small town in Louisiana. My parents grew up there. My uncle and his family still live there. We would visit there a lot as kids, so it's always nice to be back there. It's a familiar place. But very different than the big city where I live now. Very slow-paced, very relaxed. I guess the predominant theme there would be white trash. Not that my family is white trash, per say. But the town, well, swims in it.

It's right along the Mississippi river. There's a dock for the casino boats, near where the city dump used to be. My Mamaw's small town doesn't have a lot of the important things in life. So we have to go to Mississippi to go to the mall, or Wal-Mart, or to see a movie. They did just get a Blockbuster, which is a big deal. Where is it? Oh, it's in Mississippi. Right next to Wal-Mart.

It's a six hour drive to visit my Mamaw. I try to entertain myself as best I can while driving. I sing a lot. I think a lot. I watch people in other cars. I try not to think about needing a bathroom break.

Roadkill is not necessarily entertaining. I don't want to appear insensitive to the wee critters. But it is something worth mentioning. This weekend I drove to visit Mamaw and family, and it seemed that all wildlife in the state of Louisiana on the road to Mamaw's had lost the will to live. Maybe the constant downpour of rain made all living furry creatures suicidal. Maybe they were hoping the Ark would float by and give them a lift as they waited alonside the highway. Whatever the reason, very large and very small animals met their end on the side of the road to Mamaw's this weekend. I'd never seen such a thing. Many were unrecognizeable as to the type of animal it once was. The body count was on both sides of the road. I lost count, there were so many carcasses. But I did notice that on the way back home, much of the same roadkill was still there. Where does roadkill go, anyway?

The things people do in cars is always a great source of speculation and entertainment while driving. Why do people choose to do the things they choose to do in a car? There are the usual things, like applying make-up or reading a map. If you are someone who applies make-up in a car, I am here to tell you to take the 3 minutes out of your busy schedule to put the make-up on before or after you drive. One, you swerve a lot and you drive slower because you are doing too many things at once. So you really aren't saving any time, and there is no way you are getting any of the make-up on your face in the places it's supposed to be. Two, you make me nervous, and since I'm nervous just being in a car, I don't need you adding to that. Three, you'll poke your eye out with a mascara wand, and that is never a good look for anyone.

What I don't get is the nose-picking in a car. Are these people not aware that they are surrounded by windows that are clear, and that not only can they see out of their car, we can see in? True, a car is technically a private place. But you must realize that whatever you are doing in your car is on display to the world. Unless you drive a tank. But you don't. Although I imagine you could pick your nose in a tank and it would likely be a private moment for you.

As I drove home yesterday, traffic was completely stopped on the highway for a good twenty minutes or so. Which meant I had nothing better to do than stare out of my windows. There was a fairly decent looking woman in a new Nissan truck behind me. About as far from white trash as one could seem. Until I caught her in my rearview mirror with her finger up her nose. I was horrified, until I saw her stick her finger in her mouth following pulling it out of her nose. Then I was sickened. Yep, it went straight from nose to mouth, for cleaning. Of course I'd seen that before. But I'm always shocked when I see it again. I guess I figure people will one day learn that people with eyes and decent vision CAN SEE YOU AND YOUR DISGUSTING BEHAVIOR. And even people without eyes can sense a nose-pick within a five mile radius.

I mean, I'm not saying I've never picked my nose. In fact, my mom has a great story of me as a first grader, in the church Christmas pageant playing the role of Mary, the Mother of Jesus. I was the chosen one, the most proper, the most worthy, out of all the other girls in first grade. Nearly holy. My mother was so proud. Until one day at rehearsal. Apparently there is a hidden scripture in the Bible that only I knew about, where Mary shalt pick her nose as an offering to the Son of God. Or something. Whatever reason I had as a five year old, I proudly picked my nose in front of all the other kids, and all the moms. I actually don't think I realized what I was doing. The kids were oblivious. But all the moms knew. Good heavens! Mary is picking her nose!!

Really, we don't know if Mary picked her nose or not. It is not mentioned in the Bible, and we have no historical documentation to suggest she didn't pick her nose. As a five year old, I could have portrayed the most accurate re-inactment of the birth of Jesus. Unfortunately, we will never know. So please don't judge me. I was ad-libbing, and acting from my heart.

Anyway, a little advice for all of you public nose pickers: using your pinky finger to hunt for treasure does not make it any more acceptable or dainty. So if you're going to do it anywhere outside of your home, go ahead and use your pointer/picking finger, and really get into it. You've been seen already, so you might as well make it a good show.

For example, I was in Moscow, Russia, returning from a mission trip. As we waited in line at the airport, we spotted a man who was extremely consumed by his nose-picking activity. He was putting his whole body into it. Really, it may have been a form of interpretive dance, but I'm really just learning about Russian culture, so I'm not sure. Maybe he just had some illegal contraband stuffed way up there that he was trying to secure, or perhaps remove. Whatever his logic, he spent a good fifteen minutes or so exploring the regions of his sinus cavity. Not just a scratch, it was a PICK. He wasn't even trying to hide it. I don't think he noticed our pointing and staring, but he would stop just as we got the video camera out. This guy would have been a great short film all on his own. As soon as we put it away, we'd spot him going at it again. It was a traveling nose-pick. He went through the airport from check point to check point, still checking to see what was up there. It was the most disgusting, yet heartfelt display of nose-picking I had ever witnessed. I give him props for keeping us entertained during a long wait at the airport. Hopefully he didn't develop a brain aneurism from excessive picking. I'm pretty sure at one point his whole fist disappeared up there somewhere.

Anyway, to sum up: Don't be afraid to pick your nose. I'm not against it. I am pro-pick. Just don't do it where I can see it.

In honor of 300 episodes of the Simpsons, I leave you with: Smell ya later.
The Cynical Tyrant