The War On Trees: Prologue

This is something I must report.

Much like Stalag Ranville, I cannot tell this story in a single post. So I will begin where I began only a few days ago . . .


I have discovered a new park, this one in the northwest quadrangle of Cornana. I must say that I was surprised to find such a place in Cornana. If I were to say that I liked some area of this worthless island (and I would not), I would say that it was Cornana, the island's ostensibly official capital city. Why? I am uncertain--maybe because it is not Soybean Island City, or perhaps because of its rundown streets and depressed downtown. It is the home to the island government, which is only like an offshore shell corporation--all hollow and existing only to serve the corrupt few. A false fake facade. The "elected officials" that go to "work" in Cornana are but placebo politicians. In many ways, Cornana is but a placebo town with placebo institutions--what better representation of Soybean Island could there be?

Excuse my meandering . . .

The War on Trees.

Yes.

It is real.

It is here.

And I have found its epicenter at Abused Woods Park:





This is, of course, not a tree. No, it is a statue. A statue of a toad!





I will not reveal the heart of the park until next time. For now I will reveal what leads up to this monstrosity of a "park".

Here is another "statue":




Yes. A metallic squid-of-death type piece of "artwork".

Clean, heavy, somber. Much like the toad made of stone.

And speaking of stones:



(Take notice of the dead and damaged log in the background.)




Look at those stones!

I used to believe that these ringlike things were remnants of the Ancient Eye-Nye-Habs--perhaps money or the unusable hula hoops of their lost culture. But I am now led to believe that these items are manufactured to be placed around the necks of young trees to control their growth and prevent them from escaping, or even put upon older trees to force them to droop and kowtow so low that they may easily have their heads lopped off by those tree-executioners who roam openly about this island--with the blessing (and orders) of The Apparatus!

Humph!

Also at the beginning of Abused Woods Park, you will find these:



A rusted metal tree.





A rusted metal generic songbird.





A rusted metal hawk (trying to fly away even though it is rusted metal).

And:




A rusted metal . . . well, I  am uncertain what exactly this bit of rusted metal depicts, but it is all part of a dastardly and abdominal place, I tell you!

What else for today's prologue report?

Only this:




And I need not tell you what this is and who is responsible, Dear Non-Reader.



I will continue my long-form journalism report later. As always, I must be very careful, discreet, un-foolhardy. I must work in increments with a veneer of superciliousness. I must reveal what I dare reveal in an oblique and offhand guarded manner--or something like that.

More.

Later.


Oneninefiveseven over and out:


Goodbye from Soybean Island