Editor:

Went over to the west side of town the other day, (Jim Thorpe), had to get my hunting license. Pulled into a meter by the tracks, put 50 cents in, turned the crank and was good for one half-hour. Simple enough. So simple a monkey could do it, anyhow this monkey can!

After doing this, I was hurt to see a kiosk hiding under a plastic bag, and I know it was giving me the finger! I still say kiosk is a Russian word for stupid parking!

Probably will be my last trip to the other side of town, however I may need beer, for I’ve been known to imbibe now and again. But at the beer store you don’t have to do battle with the high-tech kiosks or even meters.

Anyhow, what about me? Why must everything in this town be changed because of tourism? What about the poor bastards who reside here? Don’t we count for anything?

A Native Chunker,

Pete Bott

E. Mauch Chunk