We've brushed on this story from Lois Lane #4 before, because it's that old comics plot device of indulging the delusions of a head trauma victim, lest you actually make it worse somehow. I am not convinced this has any medical credence, but I don't care enough to research it. Maybe if I hit my own head, I'll think I'm a psychiatrist and I'll be telling you people to respect my authority as an expert in the mental health field. And you'll be all like, "Man, what are we supposed to do? I guess we have to listen to him, because he thinks he's a psychiatrist, and a psychiatrist would know that sort of thing!"
I know. I blow minds. It's what I do.
Anyway, here's a place that has a dress code. Because nothing says "vacation" like being told how you have to dress at all times:
Webster's defines "Dude" as being "a city dweller unfamiliar with life on the range." So, if we want to come across as an authentic Western town, maybe we shouldn't name ourselves after people who have no clue in the West.
Oh, but it gets worse:
WHOA! What the heck is that? This place has to be in Arizona. It just has to be. Only Arizona would allow total rubes to walk around with loaded firearms.
Consider Lois was just giving me her attitude about not saving me if I were in danger, I'm not sure I'd give a rip if she was about to steer her horse off a cliff. I suppose that's why Clark was given super powers, and not me.
But seriously, Clark, let her fall. It's the only way she'll learn.
Now, is this the same guy that flies into outer space and across the ocean and all that? He seriously can't fly a little bit further to... oh, I don't know... some place where they actually have medical equipment? Remember, this place gives people guns and expects you to wander around looking like Garth Brooks because it's "authentic." Do you think for one second they have an MRI machine?
But don't worry! The local sawbones is on top of everything!:
He can hear your thoughts. I'll admit that's quite a trick.
But I'd still want an MRI.
See you tomorrow!