Jaime drove east-by-northeast through Lower South Upper West Kneadawhore* Iowa just as dawn was breaking on the horizon. He winced as the light sliced through his optic nerves, sensatized as they were by the hours spent perusing the internet for ideas for a new feature column in the 'Sleaze'. He knew if he could only attract the editorial attentions of Jr. Assistant Coordinator (articles,sub-supervisory)Pre-editor Lana Lewis his career in tabloid journalism would be made.

Just as he passed the billboard reading "Welcome to East Lower South Upper West Keadawhore" Jaime noticed a trail of smoke rising from the back 40 of the nearest farm. Slowing his car, he watched the emergence of a farmer from the dusty farmhouse, who exited with some sort of device cradled in his arms, and followed closely by a limping hound.