Cars on the lawn

Washington is a beautiful state. It's where i'm from and i like it for it's diverse landscape and ecosystems. Mountains, rivers, deserts... many species of bird and fish. I only come back to this state once a year, if that, to visit old friends and relatives and reconvene with the many old selves i've once been. It's my place of transition between ending and beginning, a place where i try to revisit old feelings, find my position, and move on. Time stops here, it's infinite and for that reason perhaps dangerous.

Does it ever seem like the most beautiful states have the worst, least intelligent stewards of the land? Think about that Montana governor who wants to raze the entire eastern half of his state for its coal. Creating a clear diesel gas that's somehow a new source of energy to relieve reliance on the Arab world. Or beautiful Idaho and its anti-semitic past; haven for the AN. Or perhaps the best example~ Alaska. Home to the Murkowskis, the governor Frank and his daughter Lisa the senator. Always trying to tap ANWR, giving public lands to indian corporations for mining and timber harvest, applying taxpayer money to cruiseline cleanup and the aimless tankers running aground. Or Maine's stalwort republican Olympia Snowe backing Bush on many agendas, few representing protection of Maine's pristine lands and waters.

Is there perhaps some invisible universal law requiring certain state residents to check their brains at the border? For example, here in Washington everyone loves to talk about television. 90% of homes, whether they are grandiose or more likely a manufactured unkept box or double-wide, have at least one satelite dish beaming down hundreds of channels; the dish located above numerous cars on the lawn. Parts cars, fixers-upers, old skeletons of the past. But television, above the rest, is the least avoidable conversation here, second to cars.
Question: Did you see the episode of "[insert show]" last night?
Answer 1: No, i've never even heard of that.
Answer 2: Yeah sure [even though i've never heard of it].

I've learned to switch between the two answers for the simple reason of avoiding further discussion on the topic. In many cases Answer 1 will be recieved by thorough explanation, including pantomime, copious dialogue and an altogether intensely boring account of uninteresting material. All to which one can choose to laugh politely or quietly disregard. Who could ever expect one to watch television vicariously through another, and enjoy it? First-hand television shows are difficult enough in themselves.

Answer 2 i've learned is a truly brilliant solution to this problem. By answering "yes," one can limit the conversation to a few replies such as, "Oh yeah, that was a good one," or a less committed, "Uh-huh." A tremendous breakthrough in communication.