I'm especially fond of this line:
...This was during period of transition in Texas, when colorful families hadn't yet been overrun and undone by Haliburton goons and their Italian firearms, by suburbs and agribusinesses tycoons. The newcomers were worse than barbed wire or fire ants. Right behind them came the politicians.
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Actually, I'm attached--emotionally--to the old versions of both hunting and Texas (neither of which I can claim much first-hand knowledge of). We're in hunting-ranch territory here, of course, which means solar-powered, fully-automated deer feeders are as easy to find as the enormous bags of genetically-modified corn to fill them with. Mmm. Mmm. Corn-fed venison, shot during high tea in the mesquite scrub.
Apparently, though, that corn-fed stuff doesn't work for lots of the hunters who drop in seasonally to drink a lot, nurture beard stubble, and shoot rifles. This time of year it's common enough to find headless corpses of dear and wild hog along the side of the road down here.
It's a sport!
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