As someone who loves the absurd and whose introduction to humor and history was the story of how Abe Lincoln was born in a log cabin that he helped his father build, I love Plymouth.

And, sincerely, I mean no disrespect by this.

I love that this rock

has this type of presentation:

From here you can see Cape Cod on the far horizon … where the pilgrims landed before coming to Plymouth.

There was much hardship and many died during the first year. I just don’t think they are all buried under that monument. But that’s okay.

I will save the 17th century version of “an enemy of my friend is my enemy” for another day.