filed under "things i don't want to be told"

i got the following text from my friend and frequent travel companion hampton the other day:

"I'm playing oregon trail. You got measles and were bit by a snake, and then drowned in a river. I'm sorry."

now hold on just a damn minute. i realize the oregon trail is a dangerous adventure, fraught with peril and discomfort. i don't expect to make it through the whole pace with maximum rations and a slow and easy pace. someone's just going to get dysentery; that's how the law of averages works. but if i got measles AND got bit by a snake AND drowned in a river, well, you didn't exactly go to great lengths to try and prevent my untimely death, did you?

once i got sick, you should have rested, maybe for a day or two, and upped the food distribution a little. instead you pressed on. i guess that's forgivable - measles isn't exactly a death sentence.

then i got snakebit. now it's definitely time to stop. jostling around in the back of a wagon and stopping to hunt rabbits by the hundred-pound-load is not good for my infection, sir. i know there were no pioneers offering to trade 2 tubes of neosporin for 3 sets of clothing, but COME ON. THIS HURTS.

finally we came to the worst decision of all - the river crossing. i'm guessing you either caulked the wagon and floated it across or just tried to ford the fucking thing; in either case, you are cheap and reckless. you should have just ponied up the money to pay an indian guide to get us across (everyone knows this never leads to death because the oregon trail is terrified of being insensitive to our native american brethren.) did you really think, in the event that shit started to hit the fan, that my measle ridden, snake venom filled, no ration or rest having body could swim to safety?!?!?!?!?!

asshole.