The town/region is small. The physical condition of the structures in the general area is deteriorated in a way that suggests both diminishing cultural relevance and peaceful coexistence with nature. Socioeconomically, a percentage of people that live here that seems maybe a little high at first but then, as you admit to yourself that you don’t know really what you are talking about sounds reasonable, exist below the poverty line.
Squarely in the middle of this Wyethesque foreverscape is a place. The doorman, whose name is something weird like “Squeak” or “Ground Chuck”, is there. And it turns out that actually, this is the place where the thing happens.
Or at least, it did.
20 miles down the road in a suburban kind of setting, which I am not saying is much more deeply concerned with the stylistic trappings of the thing than the substance of the thing itself but I am heavily implying it, they also do the thing. Fat tourists and stupid children seem to be enjoying themselves. God, look at that stupid kid with the missing tooth in the front. I’d like to fucking strike that child.
Do you remember earlier on? Like in the 20th century, preferably more than a few decades ago? They did the thing at that time. They did it differently, too. Probably with tools/implements made out of different materials, or something. Or the ruling body operated under different principles in terms of how it was marketed. Whatever, the point is it was really idyllic and shit.
Now I’m gonna feign objectivity here, but let’s just pretend to take an example completely at random that the fact that people don’t do the thing anymore, or at least not in the same way, actually represents the decline of western civilization or intellectualism or whatever little clever “take” I’m going for this week. The thing is, if you think about it, isn’t that actually completely true? Not saying so for sure but think about it