by Lucas Graupman
One Sunday afternoon while skiing through a spruce forest, I found myself nose-to-snout with a moose. I thought the moose would be repelled by the sound of This American Life coming from my speaker. Instead, it charged. I skied away frantically, the moose on my tail for half a mile, as Ira Glass calmly interviewed an American autoworker. “Their problem is, they still aren’t reliable,” the autoworker was saying—something like that—as if he were also insulting my pursuer. The moose sniffed and turned around. He couldn’t care less.
