All right, enough. The Hawk Road will admit that its take on the Arena Dance was a little out there if you'll admit you couldn't have written four words on a hangover like that. To try and describe an event you vaguely remember is to jaywalk the Bullshit Highway. And to make up memories of 40-person brawls and the smell of pot in the bathroom is just wrong. That said, there are no excuses for this week's Hawk Talk.

The Hawk Road would like to make a few proposals to Survivor/Apprentice creator, Mark Burnett. As your scouts comb the globe for the next shore-front paradise, how about considering a location that actually promotes survival. A place that offers no shade or coconuts. A place that taunts your soul until you forget to pronounce your "r"s. Of course, I speak of The Cape.

Having your survivors parade around the tropics wearing next to nothing is important to your ratings. The Hawk Road understands, but consider this twist: why not have your sixteen brave camera-friendly challengers leave the helicopter wearing only a smile and a prayer. You see, Mr. Burnett, The Cape is host to a sheep population, and five minutes after standing naked in the dunes would make even the toughest survivor want to spoon with a warm, wooly body. There are only 4 days of the year that you could comfortably brave the Cape elements in the buff, leaving you 361 to choose from. And long before anyone thinks about making a fire, they will have constructed a spinning wheel made of driftwood, pumping out three pairs of wool socks an hour.

There are shellfish, gull eggs, and illegal lobster pots to be hauled in. There are rare birds and a lighthouse to use as "filler" clips. The tribe Tomale could stay on the duned end of the island, and tribe Taint could stay on the other. With the blustering winds and ruthless fishery officers and birders, whoever is left standing after 31 days will be your first true Survivor.

On a similar topic, Mr Burnett, a hometown hero has inspired the Hawk Road to promote another television-worthy idea. A featured guest of this website, simply referred to as Stretch, has expressed his desire to have a place to "get away from it all". He has been overheard speaking about Calf Island, located just off the Hawk mainland, as his hopeful retreat. Calf Island is currently available for purchase, and rumours place the price tag at $50 000, a steal for someone given a budget like yours, Mr. Burnett. Following the current theme of home make-overs and improvement, The Hawk Road would like to suggest surprising Stretch with a humble abode he can call his own on the island. Darwinian journals and The Beetles Greatest hits will ensure Stretch's peace of mind. I can promise you, Mr. Burnett, that any dialogue he provides will be nothing less than golden.

Celebrating its 3000th hit, The Hawk Road finds it ironic that the level of feedback it has received is relatively low. As incentative to send your opinions and thoughts to The Hawk Road, another rambling account of questionable content will be presented again this week. Do not think of it as punishment, though it may be. It is simply proof that one man can not summarize a culture this diverse.

Hawk Road Ramble, 05/03/04:

While someone somewhere is starving and gunmen wander their streets, there are other places that can think of no specific gripe they have for their world. At this moment, The Hawk Road's chair is one such place. Every politician is a money-waster, but the fact that there is money to waste seems to count for something. Taxes and gas, as tightly related as Nicholas Emerson Nickerson is to his name, continue to rise, but only a low grumble of protest is heard. Television, aside from a few entertaining hours each week, is redundant and shockless. Are we complaining? No. That's because of the changing weather, abundant pornography, and coffee.

"The sun's a hot high-noon, there's a brunette in a light, floaty dress that has a bum to die for sitting on my lap, and I had just finished my double-double and had half a mind to light a smoke. It was then that I realized the fuel I would need to get me home was grossly over-priced, and that my country's leaders were incompetent squanderers. I left the room, determined to knock on the doors of my oppressors until things changed."

Sure.

As long as sex, stimulants, and entertainment can be found in surplus, the ants will march. Or at least this ant will.