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Don't Need No Cement Pond �I need to prove to everybody that I can swim without dying!� quoth the boy. He�s such a realist. Dad was eager to deflect attention from his amazing home repair skillz. Everybody was hot and tired. The cement ponds around here close at 5pm, so what�s a body to do? Oh, wait, that�s right, we live in God�s country. So when you want to go swimming, you go here:
There are 13,842,357 swimming holes in the Great Smoky Mountains, and over the July 4th weekend, 13, 842, 357 are occupied, giving each standard tourist roughly 3 square inches of space in the water, unless you know where to go. We do. Our favorite spot had 3 picnicking squatters and one lone fisherman dressed oddly like a Junior Girl Scout who was casting what appeared to be clothesline. Amazingly, he had caught nothing all day. N-O-T-H-I-N-G. Maybe it was the Thin Mints he was using as bait. I hear fish like Trefoils better. (Guru Jr., ignoring the fisherman dressed as a 4th grade female. Daughter�s just doin� her thang. Check out the rocks to the lower left, you can just make out some of the old train tracks jutting out from the logging company glory days of yore.)
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