I'm a bit tired today. 'A bit' is really an understatement, I spent the majority of the night laying in bed and contemplating the complex relationships that govern when a salmon decides to travel to the ocean as a smolt. Before you ask, no, I don't know why I felt compelled to sort this out in my head until 3:30am in the middle of a three day weekend. I think (as much as thinking is possible today, anyway) that I have it sorted out in my head now.

Given my state of mind I did a double take when I heard this snippet of conversation behind the counter at the local hipster coffee house in Moscow, ID:

"Yeah, but I think he's just too psychadelic for me...I mean what's with the whole making beads out of the bones of his dead dog...and making a sweater and then burning it?..."

This gives new meaning to, "The hair of the dog that bit you". I swear that my mind wasn't playing tricks on me. This is reality in Moscow, Idaho.

In case this seems to bizarre to be true, there are multiple links on google for this

Dog hair sweaters