Right, so we are out past Little Italy – built under a truce so that elderly mobsters from rival families could retire to an exclusive desert community and live side-by-side in peace – but even so, I don’t think martini drinkers are the problem.
Out here, it’s much more a drive-your-pickup-offroad-and-drink-a-sixpack-in-the-setting-sun-while-taking-potshots-at-cacti-and-signage kind of country.
And anyway, the major threat to human wellbeing seems to be neither drunk drivers nor stray shotgun pellets, but giant arrow-headed snakes that can move faster than you can run.
Oh, and rocks.
Ambulatory
creophagous
rocks.
Mark Bould 