Visitors to the convention can participate in hobo sing alongs, buy hobo crafts, and eat genuine hobo food. For aspiring hobos, there is a prom-esque contest in order to be crowned king or queen of the hobos. I kid you not. For recently deceased hobos, you can even be interred in the one and only authentic hobo cemetery.
Some names of previous hobo royalty are as follows- Hobo Lump, Fishbones, El Paso Kid, Liberty Justice, Iowegian Rick, and Come On Pat. The entire convention comes complete with a website that looks as if it crawled out of the pit of hell that was the 90s. The website includes the history of hobos. (hoboists? Hoboites? hoboistory?) as well as the hobo code ( which contains such gems as #6-Do not allow yourself to become a stupid drunk.) and even an in to the hobo grapevine.
As he reads over my shoulder, my writing partner nearly swallowed a lemon seed out of his tea. He's okay now. It's okay, guys.
Scrolling through the pictures on the site, you can find such lovely pictures as hobos cooking over fires, hobos playing guitars, and hobos sitting around talking to each other. All in all, it seems like a good ole time out there in northeast Iowa. If such a thing can be found in northeast Iowa. Or Iowa. Or the Midwest. Yes, we're bitter. Live with it.
For our steadfast readers in Germany and Russia; one can only hope that this site translates into your languages. If you are trying to read this in English, I truly pity you. We use enough malapropisms and made up words to confuse native English speakers.
Hopefully we shall be posting more often.
For more information, check out this hideously crafted website. And they actually paid someone to design it. (This was Stalin's contribution.)
www.hobo.com
Cheers,
-Glinda, Witch of the North
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