Lincoln, Nebraska (we need a travel forum)

[Higgs]

No it’s fine, I can be exhausting

You and me both buddy.

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[lennytheweedwhacker]

I want to move to a small town in Nebraska. Start a new life. Slowly take over control of the town.

[Ello Sailor]

You'll need muscle, Len. With all due respect.

[lennytheweedwhacker]

You'll need muscle, Len. With all due respect.

My smarts are all the muscle I need.

[Bammer]

I want to move to a small town in Nebraska. Start a new life. Slowly take over control of the town.

Start a cult and I’m there

[Anders]

Sounds like a pretty cool place.

https://www.planetware.com/tourist-attr ... s-ne-l.htm

Movies set in Lincoln, NE:

https://www.imdb.com/search/title/?loca ... ska,%20usa

The movie Nebraska is really good.



Matthew Sweet is from Lincoln, NE:



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Food from Nebraska:

https://visitnebraska.com/trip-idea/6-t ... skan-foods



A Runza is a bread pocket filled with ground beef, cabbage, sauce, and seasonings.

[bart]

ugh that reminds me of a lamprey

[Anders]

Think it looks delicious. Hopefully Jorge will try the one that is considered the best in town.

[Jorge]

It looks like the worst empanada in the world

[Anders]

Here are some more.

[Higgs]

That's just a bastardised sausage roll. And I'm not much of a sausage roll guy.

[Bammer]

Bro that’s a piroshky

[Higgs]

I'm just not down with the bread here. Not sure why but I am strongly anti whatever this thing is.

[Anders]

Jorge will be the judge (when he actually eats one on location), unless we have someone else from Nebraska here.

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[spike]

Will Jorge go to Cinnabon?

[Monkey_Driven]

Nebraska is home to the only unicameral legislature in the United States.

I was born and raised in the Nebraska, but we really only went to Lincoln for Nebraska college football games, state high school events, and the state fair. My brother just moved there a year ago but I have yet to visit his place.

What time of year will you be there, Jorge?

[Jorge]

Looks like February 2 to 13

[Monkey_Driven]

Looks like February 2 to 13

Pack your winter coat. Winters can be pretty brutal that time of year, especially with the wind.