Maybe the most beautiful sports car ever built and this is sport like no other, it's Ferrari sport. The elegance of her lines, the balance of her body, and the exceptional power to weight ratio made for motoring intended specifically for the west coast of Italy where the highway follows the sea and may be one of the most spectacular tours in the world ... or maybe the Mille Miglia, why not.
(Ed: that's not speed, mate. THIS is speed!)
Unclear who shot the pic as it doesn't have the Stu Levy B&W brilliance which makes it more credible I did it but that still isn't a guarantee. Ongoing mystery. Shot sometime in the seventies, most likely at Camden, OH, or Eaton, OH. It looks more like it could be Eaten but not really positive about that.
Excellent point about speed and this is the Queen Bee making big speed with her right foot flat to the floor. She's not racing for any lady's consolation prize as she always goes for the win and she was fast, she would get it.
The corner is coming to the left and we see No. 21 tries to get inside her but it seems she may have more speed. We don't really know what happened but you can see they were getting to it in a hurry.
Make what you will of the elegance of her lines ...
(Ed: yah, sure, roll out this nostalgia and try to pass it off as news. This is not bloody news!)
You might want to revisit that thought, Donald Trump, as this pic was only shot about a month ago.
(Ed: she does not age!)
Well, you will need to ask her about that since I can sincerely assure you I do (larfs).
Director of the Democrat National Committee: Debbie Wasserman Schultz, known to vote in support of the GOP and, thus, makes a perfect match (i.e. in Hell) with Hillary Clinton and her dreams of an underworld empire.
We have seen the worst campaign frauds in the Democrat Party history during this election and Wasserman Schultz has been in attendance for all of them (e.g. most recent in Arizona).
Not surprisingly, there hasn't been a word from Clinton about removing Wasserman Schultz.
And that's the ultimate danger of the modern Pentagon: it believes it has the right to make unilateral moves without regard to the commands of its leader. That's not defense, it's a fucking mutiny.
The generals say they must do this 'to reassure European allies' but the only thing have heard from Euros on the matter was they fervent desire to get U.S. troops the fuck out of Europe.
The rampaging disloyalty in the military over the last eight years has come under the direct sponsorship of Fox News and other diseases of the American media (i.e. the GOP). There has never been such battery of a President nor has it come in such insidious ways.
Likely the GOP alienated a good many of its own people who saw Obama is only the Democrat Opposition and really isn't the Anti-Christ so many proclaimed of him (e.g. Bill O'Reilly, one who now fades deservedly back into his sewer of second-rate squalor).
General Phil Breedlove said some European allies have requested assurance but this is what he said:
“This army implementation plan continues to demonstrate our strong and balanced approach to reassuring our Nato allies and partners in the wake of an aggressive Russia in eastern Europe and elsewhere. This means our allies and partners will see more capability – they will see a more frequent presence of an armored brigade with more modernized equipment in their countries,” Breedlove said on Wednesday.
Did you see any allies requesting support in that??
Neither did I.
The generals don't serve the President but rather they serve the Military-Industrial Establishment and only for purposes they like (i.e. which make them money).
Example: General David Petraeus is a multi-millionaire of a general. No doubt there are others. (Celebrity Net Worth: David Petraeus Net Worth)
As no doubt you have already surmised, the doctors of the Veterans Administration were falling all over themselves to find ways to tell me, Mister Scarborough, we must do everything in our powers to restore the incredibly and uninsurably good-looking visage you once presented to the world.
(Ed: is that what they said?)
Well, not precisely.
(Ed: could we get a weak approximation of what they said?)
She said it was kind of bumpy.
But she was beautiful. She could tell you anything and you wouldn't mind.
She was a tall woman and lithe with the slender grace some women possess. She had long, straight black hair and looked a bit Oriental which all made a mysterious kind of beauty.
(Ed: she could say 'your head will fall off' and you would not mind?)
You're getting it, mate.
(Ed: so it's kind of bumpy. Is there a prospect of it becoming un-bumpy?)
Well, not exactly.
(Ed: could we try a weak approximation of that as well?)
Nope. No idea of the un-bump prognosis.
(Ed: there ain't much potential for comedy in this, mate)
Yah, I'm seeing that. The doctor was hot, tho, right?
(Ed: that much was ok)
Mostly any newsworthiness comes from what this does for guitar play and it still remains significant. The one on my back goes right across my left shoulder and it's not so much so hurty as bugging.
Understand many surgeries on that shoulder since '91. This isn't whining but rather it's wtf. This latest was surprisingly painful even though it's not much more than a surface chop and the whole arm was saying 'fucking enough abuse' and fair enough.
That's mostly worked through now so guitar gets not so much easier as less bugged.
(Ed: doesn't sound like the bumps will head for Buffalo any time soon)
Sure they will but I guess that's the stretch so they will be bitching for a while yet.
I've got the hydrophilic ointment now, man.
(Ed: what is that?)
Well, 'hydro' means water and 'philic' means great need or want or some such.
(Ed: what does that mean?)
No idea.
The stuff goes on the sites so that must moisturize (?) and encourage unbumping (?) ... dunno.
(Ed: so the main medical situation just now is it bugs?)
Yah, not so bad, huh.
Some sort of guitar bit is coming up, maybe audio or video, as the Ganja Man is a big deal to me for reasons I already wrote and that doesn't mean "Andromeda Weeps" or a green screen have been forgotten. "Ride the Dragon" CD isn't forgotten either and this song could be a peach for it. It's dredging back about eight years but that's hardly predeluvian. Reminds: what is exacty audio gap on the CD and it's a bit weak to record to a specific time but I figure it's alright if I'm not deliberately pushing it longer without a better reason than just making it longer.
The Ganja Man tends to run long anyway just because it feels good to get into that kind of groove and it was funny at the Cincinnati show because Lotho saw it and was thinking, man, someone gots to get dis bitch to stop (larfs). From the stage it was a riot playing along and watching all this twisted stuff happening but it definitely ran too long.
There's a method to all of this, cannabis-soaked as it may seem to be (i.e. it is).
(Ed: except the bumps)
Right, mate. Except the bumps.
(Ed: use the cannabis on the bumps!)
Those buds would likely be kind of scratchy ... but ... Whoopi Goldberg and some other cannabis entrepreneur are launching Whoopi and Mary or some such, cannabis products to relax and ease certain times of your life.
(Ed: that's code for a woman's period, mate)
Ah, well. Maybe not so good for the bumps. These products have names like "Relax" or "Ease" or so and that sounds like bump mitigation, right?
The article was written by John Blake who won't, we surmise, be up for a Pulitzer Prize any time soon. It never occurs to these lummoxes with learned lexicons there's not an original word in any of these presentations. Check out his lament if you like but I ga-ron-tee you have read every word of it elsewhere.
It's not so much the racism of the article to which we're drawn because aspect is obvious and extremely hackneyed. We don't even see a future in sports reporting for Blake since it appears he will only keep repeating the scores from last season.
The lack of originality in things is disturbing because that aspect, particularly in journos, is ubiquitous. In part that comes from journo corruption in which they're told what to write and, for a nominal sum, they write it. The more disturbing aspect is the apparent lack of wit in the content which comes.
Evidence:
Blake gives us the same racist playbook presented at every KKK meeting since it was founded in Tennessee after the Civil War.
Jessica Valenti gives us a the New Age version of Gloria Steinem ... and most of the time she borks it.
Donald Trump says, "He started it!"
Anderson Cooper said, "That's the logic of a five-year-old and he's right but advisement of that fact didn't even slow Trump slightly."
Cooper is right regarding Trump and about the others in that list as well. All of them act like spoiled five-year-olds and, here at the Rockhouse, we know of at least one kid of about that age who behaves far better than these (cough) adults can manage.
(Ed: the Fairy Princess?)
The very same.
In fact, how about this interview: rather than talking to some downtown high-roller, how about talking to the Fairy Princess and ask her what she thinks 'white privilege' means and I don't mean in any way to use her for making points. Instead, think of this as Art Linkletter with "Kids Say the Darndest Things" which was a charming show. That I remember something of it when it went off the air, oh, a hundred years ago or so should give you some idea of the charm of it.
In that type of interview, there can't be any loading of the question by the interviewer. In other words, we can't lead her into any thinking 'white privilege' is good or bad, it's simply a question and she can make of it what she will. That answer when she does not know and has not been led to what she should say can be funny, fascinating, all manner of things.
Note: the interview will never happen because it violates the FBL (Family Baby Law) in which anyone younger than twenty won't be shown online.
(Ed: is it really that restrictive?)
That's loose, mate. The Raven and I decided wait until the Fairy Princess is twenty-eight and then upload everything! (larfs)
The Logic of Five-Year-Olds ... well, there's quite a bit of that floating about, isn't there ... not with you, of course, esteemed reader ... but in that other lot, they're no damned good, are they.
No-one here ever heard of Donna Woods but I press "1" and you know why, don't you.
All together now ...
PAYBACK!
After the telephone robot wastes my time answering a phone call which might have been the Mystery Lady, this telephone answerer feels something is due.
PAYBACK!
Silas: yes, Donna Woods lives here.
(Long silence which tells us she is afraid to go off her script)
Silas: she is sleeping just now.
Soon-to-be hooker: (unintelligible)
Silas: may I take a message for her?
Soon-to-be hooker: (unintelligble) two numbers
Silas: I hear two numbers but what are they? Why would she call them?
Soon-to-be hooker: One is a reference number and the second is a contact number.
Silas: thank you but that does not tell me why she should call someone about her reference and contact numbers. What is this number?
Soon-to-be hooker: it is for the ERC company.
Silas: please work with me, if you could. What does ERC do?
Soon-to-be hooker: it is the Energy Resources Company.
Silas: I hear those words but they don't tell me anything about its purpose. Does it have, say, an actual function?
Soon-to-be hooker: it is an accounts receivable division of ...
Silas: thanks for helping me waste as much of your time as possible. Have a peach of a day. Kisses.
(click)
(Ed: that's not much of a punchline!)
Carry it through, Elmer Fudd. She's pissed because she's getting paid by the percentage and she knows or should know it would have been better if she recognized the situation and bailed out long before the end of it.
A robot has no right in any possible Universe of interrupting a human unless it serves the Three Laws of Robotics and asshole bill collector robots don't make the cut, particularly when no-one here even knows the person or has ever had any engagement with the person. It's not just a robot but an egregiously-incompetent robot.
Jesse Colin Young was on the stage and he said, "Man, it looks like rain coming!"
It sure did look like rain as it was starting to get dark and you know how that goes. And it's a real drag when it's an outdoor concert for the World Series of Rock in the Cleveland Stadium with a hundred thousand rock monsters about to get quite wet.
So he sez to us, "Man, we need to call on the music to make the rain go away. I tell you what. I'll play this song and if we all get behind it then I believe we can make the sun come back out again."
Sure as hell, he did it.
At the end of the song, the sun sure did start beaming again and all the people in the audience who were trippin' (i.e. many) called out in their passion, "Jesse Colin is God!"
(Ed: did that really happen?)
The sun did but the spiritual vision didn't. They're trippin', they're not stupid! (larfs)
The story is cool for its own sake but there's more as Cadillac Man and I were talking and he brought up the idea of the story but it was someone else on the stage. After a while I started thinking, uh oh, and asked, don't you mean??
He was startled for a moment and then realized as of course he was there too. So there you have the proof the ganja helps yer memory and sobriety eats it up! (larfs)
The conversations roam about for a while and may go a couple of hours because we don't do it all that often and it's cool just to explore about kind of like when people would say, I'm going to drop some Orange Sunshine because I want to see what I'll think about.
It's not a fascination with self but rather with exploration and one of the courses was through Alexander Hamilton vs Harriet Tubman on a ten-dollar bill.
That ex-controversy was already settled but the fundamental is what constitutes a good head to put on currency. Cadillac Man knows Alexander Hamilton and I mean deeply. He's been reading a reference text of a million pages and says he reads slowly but anyone will seem to read slowly with a volume that size. There's nothing patronizing in that as I read a lot as well but reading sci-fi and reading history need hugely different types of attention.
So Cadillac Man has strong expertise in the history of Alexander Hamilton and can state categorically the merits of why he should be recognized and even proclaimed due to his fundamental contributions to the nature and structure of America.
My argument in favor of Harriet Tubman is from the perspective of who best represents what America means, represents, etc. Her courage and selflessness are exceptional attributes and she was assiduous in keeping to them despite the heaviest opposition.
The purpose of raising the matter here isn't to re-ignite the discussion but rather it shows the type of discussion which may take place and it's unresolved as to what is the best representation of America on currency but we're highly sure Andrew Jackson, Indian Killer, is not it. Back in his time, it was highly-fashionable to waste American Indians just as ruthlessly as they shot buffaloes from trains but this is decidedly not that time and his representation on a twenty-dollar bill is offensive.
The coolness in the trip is I've been in freefall for years as in I don't have any particular reason to do anything if I don't feel like it. Cadillac Man hit that about six or eight months ago and he's getting acclimatized to it. Lotho still has many mortal obligations but he squeezes as much freefall into that as he can.
That's where a lot of discussion goes as now you're in freefall and you don't have to do anything ... but what will you do.
Note: you need this as much as you need exercise, a good helping of fiber in yer diet, and a warm place to crash. That's why freefall can come hard to some people and it can get highly confusing even though it's a gas when you get the hang of it.
When you do something because you want to do it and you're aware no-one else on the planet may give a rat's ass about it then you're on top of it. Doing it because you want to do it is enough but that seems so dayum selfish at first. You really mean this is alright?? I don't have to be this or have to be that??
Nope, you really don't. Expectations from others drop substantially and that's a fine thing because you probably can't deliver on them anyway but your own expectations on yourself go up and that aspect is grand.
(Ed: Dagwood, this just ain't funny)
Well, no, I would not have expected anything with a discussion of Alexander Hamilton to be all that comical.
(Ed: and the Zen in retirement is basically you are until you're not, right?)
Yah, and what a killin' CD title: I Am Until I'm Not!
(Ed: what does that mean?)
No idea. Probably it's better than Silver Squirrel and the Moth Demons Attack New York, tho.
(Ed: dunno. I kind of like the Silver Squirrel!)
Well, I'm sure the Silver Squirrel likes you too, boobie.
There's been some question of whether I'm calm or just pretendin' and we'll see about that but mostly this pic is to prevent the following pic from showing up on Facebook where they're hardly ever calm (larfs).
Straight out of "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" to you.
Lobotomy because, if you can't solve a mental problem any other way then removing the brain may do it.
See, just look how much more content Mister Nicholson has become. We like to think he enjoyed his lobotomy.
This isn't the biggest slash I ever got but it's the most melodramatic because everyone who sees me gets all sad-looking and then asks, "Did you fall?"
There's no intention to mock their sincerity as it's real and that's how people react when I'm not in a Walgreens causing Security 98 problems.
In part this is because I think I may have missed a call from the Mystery Lady today and the pic is the fastest update. The quick Doctor Kildare on it is the thing looks like big melodrama but it's more nuisance than anything else (i.e. itchy, a bit hurty, etc).
The size is what freaked me as this is well past my own li'l bargain and this slash is the smaller one. No need for pics of both as my purpose is to inform rather than shock. This is much 'tidier' than it was on Friday when the dressings first came off since there was quite a bit of blood and it sure shocked me. Most of that is cleaned-up now so it's a lot less Frankenstein and more toward wtf.
Some of you old fuckers simply shrug and think, yep, you have to be tough to play in this round and, fair dinkum, that's dayum sure true. Doctors say they want to do this or that and the first thought is, well, man ... I really don't think I want to do that ... but that passes quickly and you get to, well, let's get on with it.
Maybe it will need some response lines:
No worries, that's where they planted the RFID chip
Big deal, you should see what Sigourney Weaver looks like now.
I am Groot.
(Ed: is this going to continue to get stranger?)
Of course but who would have it any other way!
(Ed: normal people?)
Well, sure, but what fun are they, mate! They plan for what they will watch on television ... but let life just happen to them. Now you know there ain't no fun in that.
Might as well cut right to the medical editorial:
Don't use narcotics. You will fucking die.
Put a wrapper on that thang, Eugene.
Do dangerous things, it's the safe stuff which kills you.
And, oh yeah, don't get too much sun because you will end up looking like the pic or Donald Trump, neither particularly good outcomes in the estimation of the Rockhouse Medical Committee (i.e. me).
Note: if I'm pickin' then I'll go with looking like the picture because ...
because ...
at least I ain't orange ... plus at parties I can make up stuff about what happened. There's no story you can make up about being orange which doesn't involve Sherwin-Williams paint.
A bit of sexual algebra to close:
Donald Trump is orange and he thinks he is a sex god, apparently, according to Marla somebody or other, with some good reason.
John Boehner is also orange.
Therefore, after applying the tenets of algebraic manipulation of a sexual manner, we conclude John Boehner must also think he is a sex god, possibly also with good reason.
Imagine, John Boehner, the Demon Hell God of the Honeymoon Suite. Be afraid, baybeeee!
We're almost there ...
now imagine Boehner in a toga, his eyes crazed with lust, and he roars, "Come to Caesar and feel the passion of an Emperor!"
Huge problems with stealthy aircraft as they can't carry such big bomb loads and they can't fit enough kill power as can be designed for conventional aircraft.
The reasons are simple since the stealthy design means the aircraft has to take a particular shape and the shape would otherwise be focused on the size of the payload, along with protection, etc, etc. The reason the weapons aren't as strong is they must be recessed in various ways so they do not give off any radar signature.
Sorry we don't recall the citation for the above but it was immediately logical on reading it. Of course it's this way.
Just now the Air Force is tired of the B2 Big Mac Bomber for nukes and wants to make a bigger, sneakier version for a long ton of money. It's a brilliant plan when a nuclear submarine can deliver a whole lot more nukes and deliver them faster. These nuclear launcher boats will be floating all around wherever you want to kill the hell out of something and the launch-to-landing time will be a whole lot shorter than it takes B3 Ultra Big Mac Bomber to fly there from the other side of the world.
Likely the submarines will get snuffed as soon as they launch and then the defenders will shoot up the Air Force for target practice after that. The submarine wars have launcher boats and attack boats. The launcher boats will be firing off nukes at your country but the attack boats will be hunting for your boat. As soon as that launch is detected, they will be onto your boat like Sigourney Weaver chasing space aliens.
These kinds of weapons are easy to sell to the public because they're ultra dramatic and look like something out of the latest "Ironman" movie from Hollywood. That B2 Big Mac Bomber is huge, flat black, and bad-ass with those bizarre angles which all mean it seriously wants to damage something. That is one deadly-looking aircraft.
Yah, it looks dramatic but it will get to the game late and probably be picked-off like an after-dinner amusement at a party.
Consider as the intruder aircraft will have to fly likely at least a thousand miles to enter 'enemy' airspace. They can't be doing Mach 2 or better or they would make so much heat the bombs would probably explode inside them. Even at that highly-unlikely speed, it will still take the aircraft a large part of an hour to reach their targets. The submarines will have launched and landed their missiles in likely much less than half that time. ICBMs from the continental US should arrive not long after that. By the time these supremely-expensive aircraft get there, the game will already be over.
It's WWII thinking to expect such a conflict to be waged in the same way as the battles for air supremacy over Germany. In that situation, the Air Force led the attack but in the new situation the Air Force will get there last. Today rocket power calls the end game and it will be surprising if the aircraft wings of the Air Force ever see it ... except to get blowed-up.
Evaluate as the defenses of the 'enemy' will have already been tested by all the submarine missile launches, all the ICBM launches from U.S., and yet still they survive. In that circumstance, it's reasonable to conclude they will be able to take out the bombers as easily as playing for stuffed animals in a shooting gallery in a carnival.
(Ed: ok, General Patton, what will you do with your armies?)
I'm not in this one, General Bradley, as the nukes make it a dirty game with no win. Everyone dies or ends up radioactive ... and still they die.
The petition to permit open carry of firearms at the Republican National Convention is widespread knowledge and maybe so is also the rumor the petition was started as a hoax ... which turned real. When last seen, the number of signatories was about 35K so it's probably 40K or more by now.
With open carry in a crowd of tens of thousands of people, all it will take is one whackjob going off half-cocked to set it up ... da da ... RNC Demolition Derby.
But, wtf, how many whackjobs could there be in a crowd which has already promised a riot if Donald Trump does not get the nomination. We even recall one saying it would be 'Armageddon if Trump is not nominated.' That one is never at a loss for words ... regrettably for the GOP.
In some ways I'm inclined to say go ahead and fuckin' do it. Kill yerselves if you like as y'all are the ones who love to play Hopalong "Second Amendent" Cassidy. If I'm the governor, I would damn sure call out the National Guard before it happens, tho. It's only prudent when there are that many hopped-up lunatics coming to town with guns. Makes no sense whatsoever to fail to prepare for that.
Conversely, we're sick to the point of bile-filled guttywuts over hearing all the time about gunners shooting themselves or shooting each other. Some woman got off multiple rounds at an armed intruder in her home in recent days and he is now an ex-intruder, a supine criminal, an expired heap of thug bits. They will make a hero out of her (story is true) but they won't say much about all the gunners who ate a bullet in the same period because, fuck it, I don't like Mondays.
We much prefer to see the RNC have their li'l convention without violence because it will be SO funny to watch. The convention hall will end up looking like a gigantic mud room with spaghetti dripping off the walls.
(Lemmon: that's not spaghetti, it's linguini!)
(Matthau: well now it's fookin' garbage!)
(Ref: "The Odd Couple" original movie)
Maybe Funny or Die can give us a video of their expectations for events at the Republican Convention. Whether they choose mud pies or heavy weapons for armaments remains to be seen.
In front of the main lodge at Keystone, Colorado, a wonderful place for any kind of skiing but with regular people since the Ferrari crowd goes to Aspen. Photographer was probably The Astronomer and it was shot somewhere around the early 80's. Nearby are Arapaho for high-mountain bowl skiing and also Breckenridge which is another much like Keystone. My gloves may still be on top of the post there where I forgot them.
Not too much of me stuff was busted at that stage, a few bones here or there but not much. And, no, that's not a dimple. Accuse me of anything you like but I do not have dimples.
For the live moment, things roll a bit introspective but I'm slashed, it sucks, and it'll be about another day and a half before the stitches come out. Thanks in advance for get well soon but it's not necessary as it will come soon but it just bugs the fuck out of me right now (larfs).
It's not a huge deal as many of you know how it goes right about this stage when you grit yer teeth because otherwise you would pull out those fookin' stitches with yer fingernails! There's a surprising bloody lot of them, although not so messy now.
The beauty part is it's on me face and me back at the same time. And, yah, I'll have a little bitch over it and it's not a huge whine as some of you know this squirmy stage just now. Just get those fookin' stitches out! (larfs)
The marvel is some of you don't know this schtick. Some lead charmed lives and they hardly ever break. I'm sure you know or have known someone like this. Many break an arm as a kid but, nope, they never did. Many have a car crash at some point and, nope, they never did. Many have parts which just break down but, again, nope, never happened. I'm sure you know someone as they don't get sick much either.
(Ed: the space aliens who live and work among us?)
Could be, Django. Could be.
You can ski hard at Keystone if you like and there's one head-down, vertical drop which is full of moguls the size of polar bears!
(Ed: you exaggerate!)
Well, maybe a wee bit. Blame it on the space aliens. They love that thinner air in the mountains.
Schoolmarm is the Keystone run for sandbagging and looking pretty. It's for novice skiers but with enough of a slope to tease and titillate them them (i.e. crash them) but that was plenty for lazy carving down the mountain, perfect for when you're too stoned to really bang it but still want to get a bit of ski time wind in the face.
(Ed: you were even stoned back then?)
Keep tellin' you, Gonzo, it goes back, off and on but mostly on, to when I was fifteen. I'm sixty-five now (larfs). I'm not worth busting ... an old, broke white guy with less than an OZ of the ganja ... pfft ... it's not even worth the cop's gas money to drive me downtown to get me booked.
This would be my No. 1 Pick if I were going to take the Fairy Princess up to experience the mountains and maybe get to learn about life on a pair of sliders. She will probably prefer a snowboard, as most Fairy Princesses will, but don't tell me since, for me, they just don't have the elegance of real downhill.
And, before you go off on real downhill, be sure you're up-to-date on performing a Telemark turn. If you're really good with cross-country skis then you can handle the way your heel lifts from the ski and this can be exploited to execute one of the most beautiful moves in downhill skiing, the Telemark Turn. When you can ski cross-country skis in this way, particularly on a real downhill slope rather than the normal use of going overland, you have reached the true Big Dawg status with the Downhill.
To execute a Telemark Turn, the downhill ski performs the carve for the turn but the uphill ski, because of the flexible binding, is turned probably thirty+ degrees to it and, when done well, it's magnificently beautiful to watch.
This is one of those times when a man can be beautiful but no-one asks, well, I wonder if he likes show tunes, you know (larfs).
Lotho knows these things as he was a natural on skis. I saw him casually knocking out ballet moves with normal downhill skis (i.e. binding is rigid) almost as soon as he was standing on the skis with a reasonable chance of staying that way for a while. I did not see him do a Telemark Turn but it was only a matter of time because, see above, he was a natural.
Some of you know it up there in the mountains where the air is so clean and pure but most of all there's the silence. It's not so much a matter of getting away from anything but rather it's getting back to how things are supposed to be. Caveman Bubba didn't hear city buses, honking horns, or anyone shouting, "Hands up! Don't shoot!"
One of the best parts of Keystone was the lifts closed at four pm and that meant only thing: it's time for spaghetti. Assuming you weren't some bum who only hung around the lodge, you have burned up some major calories so there's only one answer: see above about spaghetti.
There was a place for a spaghetti feast which, coincidentally enough, opened up in time for the lifts to close and the whole deal in that place was Barkeep, Pasta and Keep It Coming! You know the glory times, right ... when you have had a good day skiing and now you're hanging out with friends, stuffing your faces with spaghetti. These are the best of times, lads!
(Ed: I thought right now is the best of times??)
It is, matey, but it's a different kind of best of times. Ha! It's a Zen thing, Confucius. That time is this time and, you know, I am the walrus.
There may be protests to say the Fairy Princess is too young for skis at six years but the FFB (i.e. Fraser's First Bunny) was up on plastic baby skis at fifteen months. I have extreme difficulty with that age because, even as someone with no kids, that age doesn't seem like it's anywhere near big enough to do it. My guess would be four or five years at the youngest for her.
Whatever her age, I would ski down the learner slope with my skis well apart so she could stand between them. I would hold her little hands and we would ski on down the hill that way. It was a delight for her and sure I got a Cowboy Bob tingle out of it.
Regrettably I don't have a pic of that as it was five-star adorable. She was teeny tiny but she had her li'l pink ski outfit and she wore a cowboy hat ... and a big, big smile.
Jams this time were not recorded but I have a lame cop as the only thinking is stand up now and play. Roll immediately as the Great God Mescalito orders or it may pass by.
It's my fail that I don't tell him to smoke another bowl and wait up. It only takes a second to start an audio record session going. I do regret the fail and sometimes there's a wee bit too much impressionism.
The balance is any musico knows I don't want to screw with pushing buttons, red lights, or beeps ... I just want to play. The producer screams this is not productive but this is most productive of all because it gives the reason to do it.
It doesn't really matter if I record anything but that can be the best time because it's not directed toward any particular audience, it's only for the space it creates while the music exists and what a joy to be in it.
More and more it gets to fulfilling the longing to play something and really like it. That's no brag because it's been hard-earned but it comes the thoughts go about making mistakes and more about keeping it going. Whatever it is you're doing, just keep doing it. You have to work for that feeling (larfs).
For your own trips, it's got to be like landing a jetplane, really nailing some sky-high sex, engaging in some top-level swordfighting in the corporate boardroom, or some such. There are the times when there is not one molecule in your brain which isn't focused dead on your trip. There's no thinking of carrying out the rubbish, walking the dog, or what's on the television. You are ON it. Dayum good feeling, ain't it! (larfs)
Now do that with noise and you're jammin'.
(Long pause in which that did happen and playing commenced. It was recorded this time but it's not an Uploader. That's ok as it sounds like it will be.)
The vibe is "Hey, Mister Ganja Man" and the trip is because the Dancing Marijuana Plant left but then the Man from Mozambique showed up. There's a spiritual transformation which is all on a Rasta stream of one love.
I met a man from Mozambique he's a Rasta don't you know He would vote for Bernie If he could be here for the show
Hey, Mister Ganja Man Where you goin' with that big, big smile Would you mind for a moment If we could talk here for a while
I knew a Dancing Marijuana Plant he had such moves, don't you know Now he's gone, not coming back No-one knows where he did go
Hey, Mister Ganja Man Where you goin' with that big, big smile Would you mind for a moment If we could talk here for a while
He asked if I know a Marijuana Plant
the tall one who danced real slow
I say, yes, have you really seen him
He said he was here but had to go
Hey, Mister Ganja Man Where you goin' with that big, big smile Would you mind for a moment If we could talk here for a while
He said sometimes it's all here before you
One love brings the light to make it shine
We will drink the dawning light of this new morning
and have far more than any monarch's wine
Hey, Mister Ganja Man Where you goin' with that big, big smile Would you mind for a moment If we could talk here for a while
Yah, yah, the beat gets all buggered as it goes along but it kind of evolves. It's all about transformations and butterflies plus a whole lot of ganja. That last bit is one tok over the line but that's ok. It evolves.
But there's not much fare when almost everything is the dirtiest political act we have ever seen. Bernie Sanders has stayed immaculate but it's almost unremarkable when the others have been so bestial as to make him the blazingly obvious choice.
Birdie Sanders was a beautiful thing and The Atlantic made the observation about the rarity of the moment when a speaker has an opportunity for spontaneous wit of that nature in how he will respond to the bird. Debates and whatnot don't count because that's all been considered and anticipated but the speech doesn't cover what to say when a sparrow lands on the podium.
That's the kind of moment kids mess up years later when they read the book and identify the election of Sanders as the climax but actually the climax was that bird and achieving the Presidency is the resolution of that moment with the bird. That Sanders responded to the moment with such gentleness is a hugely telling thing.
There's no particular comedy in that but there's been so much implicit comedy (i.e. pratfall comedy) in the others maybe it's better this way.
Many of y'all likely agree Bernie Sanders is an exemplary human being, speaks the truth, and it would be cool if he lived next door to you ... but ... you don't believe he can deliver what he says or if he does then it will destroy the economy.
The purpose here isn't to sell you anything but, hey, if it does then so much the better but a larger part is my own clarity.
Bernie Sanders isn't writing Holy Gospel when he tells of his campaign plans. Nothing happens, beyond Executive Orders, unless Congress makes it happen (i.e. write the law and send it to him for signature). However, I don't believe he is making false promises but rather he is laying out design specifications and he has said multiple times he cannot do that himself. I take that to mean he needs GOP support as well rather than the mind-numbing obstructionism of the last two administrations.
There won't be some tidal wave after Wizard Bernie waves his magic staff and suddenly one-payer medical is here. It may turn into open combat with the GOP going to the trenches to say hell no. They want to keep those corporations so stop the insidious plot. Regardless of the play of it, nothing is going to happen after a blinding flash and a big puff of smoke.
At the root of all of it is there hasn't been a real leader since Reagan and, regardless of my opinion of his direction, he did set a course. We have seen little except political opportunism ever since and that's been disappointing when some of them had the minds to do much more. From Bush through Obama, except Bush II, the recorded IQ was 130 or better.
The way we see see the IQ shakeout, 130 is entering the big league, 140 is hittin' it, 150 is shooting huge sparks, and 160+ is an Official Big Dawg, One of the Immortals.
These people, except Bush II, were intelligent enough for the game but they treated it too much like a game and the Democrat Party principles were often lost as were GOP principles with "Read My Lips" Bush. For Bush, he at least knew the principle but Democrats have behaved as if they don't exist.
It's going to freak you if Birdie Sanders really was a sign and the bird was right but it won't be bad freakage. We want almost exactly the same things but we are suspicious of the methods the other endorses for achieving them. Fair enough. It's therefore incumbent on Sanders to make it more clear but there is plenty of time yet.
One thing we notice is Hillary Clinton has been conspicuously silent since Sanders whacked her in the West. She's looking at a whole lot of bad news as this goes West and she's got to know it (sob).
Clinton wasn't AWOL, tho, as she pulled herself together enough to collect a ton of money at the $300K per plate? couple? obscenity George Clooney staged. Maybe it was $30K but it doesn't make any difference as this is no more representative of We, the People, than a parade of someone's Lamborghini collection.
Apart from that poodle dog show, nothing much has happened ... except that bird.
This was one outstanding Good Friday because most of the bandages came off and other good stuff happened but ... da da ... so did the Skunk!
(Ed: the Skunk?)
Ganja, my man, the ganja.
Sorry about the withdrawal symptoms in the midst of doctors slashin' me up again.
(Ed: what withdrawal symptoms?)
Dunno but maybe there was somethin', you know (larfs).
Just like Scarface, if he's a Communist then I carve him up real nice. (Ref: Al Pacino in "Scarface")
The bandages are off now and the incisions are impressive, should leave some outstanding scars. The one on my face is 3"-4" / maybe 10cm and the one on my back is 5"-6" / 15cm. The days of 30mm-50mm incisions are long past. The cool part is it looks so Frankenstein and I got a big, big bang out of the Security 98.
Note: the Mystery Lady got a giggle out of Security 98 and it bugs y'all if you look different but I revel in it. Security 98, Security 98!
That one constitutes a good story since it got a giggle and particularly a giggle from the Mystery Lady who has zero interest in an endless diet of political sophistry.
There are some other stories which don't make the cut for interesting, tho:
Any time a gunner shoots himself accidentally in the calzones.
No more of those, mates. There's got to be a whole platoon out there by now of gunners with severely grazed gonads so we probably don't need to hear about them unless they form a choir and start covering Tiny Tim songs.
Or how about we give them all Eddie van Halen guitars so they can play "Panama" at the same time. That'd be jammin', right??
Any time a gunner's kid shoots the parental gunner.
Here's another situation for which we have heard so many examples it's enough now to say, simply, "Thank you, Jesus," and go on about your business. Otherwise, lock and load, Dagwood. Junior wants to play.
We don't need to hear about the second-in-command in Al Qaeda or ISIS being captured.
Maybe you haven't noticed but everyone the military and/or CIA captures or kills is the second-in-command. After capping so many of them over the last sixteen years, we're surprised they have anyone left to make coffee ... we probably don't need these stories anymore.
Caitlyn Jenner's sex life
This one isn't so much a story you don't want to hear anymore but rather a story we never wanted to hear in the first place. You did what? You did fookin' what?? 50/50??? Did you read about that in a Marvel comic?
Better yet, don't tell me.
Bill Clinton's sex life
Now The Happy Hooker (i.e. Xaviera Hollander) was cool ... but Bill Clinton is definitely not cool even though both took generally the same profession. After Clinton and his sloppy laundering habits, Hollywood made a movie ... but it was about Hollander. We won't be waiting up until there's one about Clinton and his favorite dry cleaner, tho.
Stories we do want to hear:
Michelle Rodriguez
Yah, got your attention now, din't we.
She took a Jaguar F-Type SVR up to 200mph (certified) and this wasn't a movie, Gomer Pyle; she was doing it for real with a cam on the speedometer. If you don't think that's ballin', you're prob'ly not going to need that word much in yer miserable life.
(Ed: I thought ballin' was sixties slang for sex?)
She was doing 200 mph! What's the fookin' difference!
It was a straight line run but fair enough. The first move for a go-faster is to discover how she feels at speed. Does she lift up? Does she get light anywhere? Does she get squirrelly in any way? What's that vibration??
Tip o' the Galactic Peace Tour helmet to Michelle Rodriguez and maybe you say it's a damn shame she's gay ... but ... it damn sure ain't a damn shame for someone!
Bernie Sanders and the Bird
We love this story ... because ...
because ...
And how about Hedy Lamarr
Considered by many to have been the most beautiful woman who ever walked the Earth but that was secondary to her. She was an inventor with brilliant capability and she created the precursor to modern WiFi, in partnership with another scientist.
She was German but she left before WWII and became a star in Hollywood but it wasn't enough and she wanted to find a way to prevent German submarines from attacking convoy shipping as it traversed the Atlantic. Yah, she was that brilliant.
See, there are good stories out there ... and some which are fookin' spectacular ... as opposed to:
Donald Trump's Schlong
Dear Donald, we don't care if it's a big one or a little one but it sure would be swell if you were happy with it and, for the sake of Johnny Wadd, shut the fuck up about it.
Lame to go from ass to class but here goes ...
Malia Obama
She must be about sixteen but she doesn't look like a mallrat, some pretentious White House princess, or any of the other richie horror stories. There was a pic of her in a $45 dress from right off the rack and she was wearing some sneakers with about the same cost.
Mama has been teaching this kid right. After eight years living in the White House, most of her life, the kid still wears clothes off the rack.
(Insert editorial on how Camelot was stolen from possibly the most elegant family to enter the White House since the Kennedys and maybe even before that because the Obamas have been immaculate.)
More tang than I would try to count and it's glorious when you first spot them because there are so many becoming a wall of color. The camera was kind of crumby as the water was more clear than that but the plastic on the watertight case didn't do the image any favor.
Something you may notice is there are no tall walls of coral. You may also know the Caribbean is well-populated with barracuda and these run out to about six-feet in length, most of which is probably teeth, extremely sharp teeth. We don't know if barracuda like eating tang but we suspect they would be like Chicken McNuggets for them. In open water with a clearly visible food source is probably not the best photographic opportunity but it does not appear that insight had occurred prior to this one.
For Virgin Gorda, I was way over my head but not for swimming. The cost of it was exorbitant but corporate disease was running high at this time and it felt like it befitted the responsibility of my big shot job. You had to be a big shot, did you ... (larfs)
That was just one aspect of the raving madness of the time and the hell of it is there was zero dope of any kind, legal or illegal, and that was true for years. That's also when things went full-tilt crazy but all with the appearance of design, process, productivity, everything to a purpose.
Virgin Gorda is an extremely cool memory in part because of the clarity of the water and also because it was the first time I had seen any fish while snorkeling. As you see, it was a lot of them.
There was a place to rent a dinghy for not too much and that was wonderful for roaming about Leverick Bay which has islands all around. On one of the jaunts, I approached an island, many of which were deserted, and thought it was empty. Approaching the beach it became clear there was a woman walking along the beach and she wasn't wearing a filament of clothing.
This statuesque beauty was a goddess from a French fashion magazine with the regal demeanor of someone accustomed to beautiful things and receiving them. There wasn't a hint of any haughtiness, this was simply a moment she wanted to walk on the beach. Then we noticed her friend higher up the beach, sitting there on a blanket while reading something.
Rather than disturb their peace, I turned the boat around and pulled away but the image remains of an Amazonian goddess, someone so beautiful she cannot possibly even be real. She was Star from the Glory Road. If you know the book, you know her look on that beach ... which was exactly how Oscar met her. (WIKI: "Glory Road" - Robert Heinlein)
Ogling immensely-beautiful women is a clearly-intriguing occupation but I still wanted to see more fish. See, Casanova guides your life but the Great God Mescalito guides mine and sometimes he wants to see fish.
On a solo run with the little dinghy, I was near one of the islands and I had some kind of anchor so I figured this looks like a good place to slip over the side. The result was stunning since the water was immaculately clear and I could easily see twenty- or thirty-feet.
The water was also mesmerizing and I kept snorkeling around until I realized, hey, the bottom is about twenty- or thirty-feet down now. That's plenty for creatures much larger than your miniscule self.
There was no big drama since the current wasn't strong and the dinghy wasn't all that far off but it did give sufficient time for the thought, you are food.
It's been the rage in the Philippines and probably elsewhere also to be crucified on Easter. It won't be one crucifixion but multiple and crowds gather, presumably with tourists among them. We don't know if there are crucifixion tourists but it seems inevitably there would be gawkers for such a thing.
Also the rage in the Philippines is to flail themselves with some types of whips to take a substantial area of skin off their backs. They walk the streets doing this so people can see the blood-covered wounds all over them.
We're not supposed to judge things but of course we will because ... screw that ... moving right along ...
If you observe the detail of the crucifixion, you will see two heavy-gauge ropes lashing each of the supplicant's arms to the cross. It looks like there really is a nail through each palm. Unknown if the supplicant also has a nail into his legs. The pain of it must be unbelievable ... but it's not a crucifixion.
My understanding is the actual Crucifixion killed Jesus because all of his weight was held by his palms so that caused him to slump forward. That compressed his lungs and hopefully had the mercy that it did not take too long to kill him. However, the ropes secure the supplicant's arms to prevent that while generally preserving the display but that moves it to the category of a show of an extremely perverse nature. Note: it's not my purpose to cast doubt on anything except the traditional observations of things. As to what actually happened on Calvary, it's your call but the above is what sciencers have suggested regarding how it ended or how that phase of it ended.
The real buster, tho, is the idea suffering gets you closer to God. Maybe that's the Bernadette Principle in which she had some terrible pain from tuberculosis but never complained to anyone so surely she must be a saint. She was the Lady of Lourdes and I have no opinion about what she saw but a whole lot of people thought it was credible.
It's the value of pain which rips my goznitch. It's value for education into don't do that again, dumb ass, but it has zero value beyond that. Besides, if God wanted you to feel pain, why would he erase it from your memory so quickly. Try as you like, you won't be able to remember what a physical pain felt like after it stops. When your body is designed to protect you from it, what logic says God would value it in some way if you feel more of it.
Note: don't get carried away by the use of 'design' as I have no opinion on what made the design except the observation it's a maze of such incredibly intricate systems.
We sincerely wish all of you a Happy Easter because, from the perspective here, all religions are true and they have little reason to conflict with each other. We do believe one day they will see that and maybe it takes another Prophet to show the way. Unknown but we do believe it will come because the soul of the world is crying out for it.
(Ed: if you say Bernie Sanders, I'll summon the Council of Inquisitors myself!)
No need after you have said it. Maybe you could argue he doesn't have the humility since he seeks to be President but he's a wise man and knows he cannot do it any other way. Maybe the best clue is how vigorously he would deny such a thing is even possible but he has shown he has given his entire life to public service and taken little, relatively speaking, in return.
(Ed: are you seriously going to paint him as a Saint?)
He fits the saintly slippers but my guess is Saints don't get a whole lot of sex and Sanders has been happily married for a considerable time. The humility doesn't seem such a huge demerit, tho, relative to Muhammad who only sought to create an empire and he did it in generally unifying the tribes of Saudi Arabia, I believe.
(Ed: you ARE trying to call him a Prophet!)
Nah, the only suggestion here is he could have been and he would have been a damn fine one.
(Ed: but he's crazy!)
Yah, they say that about all the Prophets, don't they (larfs).
Vaseline is a mystery substance in the category of things for functions I probably don't want to know. I needed to get some of it because of my oh-so-woeful situation which is improving, by the way. The book says soap and water and then smear it with Vaseline so, ok, go out to get some.
There's a problem with going to get some because I don't have a Texas drivers license or, more accurately, I don't have any drivers license.
Lame cop: they make it such a screaming hassle to do it. Old move was to show with your drivers license from elsewhere, turn it over, and then sign up for the local state. Nooooo ... now it's endless ... Papieren! Sie mussen Papieren haben! Papieren! My thinking is Texas wants to go back to wagon trains.
To heighten my chances of detection, I didn't go out until about ten p.m. last Saturday night. I wasn't sure where to find a drugstore but stumbled across a Walgreens.
Note: at this stage, the extra-melodramatic bandages had been removed, also by the book, so I was a sight from the Mad Doctor's basement. We can skip the details as I'm sure you know how much your face can bleed. Yah, like that (larfs). Hell of a mess.
As I walked into the Walgreens, I noticed a blondie girl who was kind of a greeter / cashier and, as soon as she saw me, she got onto the store intercom and announced, "Security 98, Security 98!"
That went out all over the store but she didn't sound panicked in any way so I was curious ... what's the Security 98. There was nothin' around her and I looked behind me but nothin' there either so I believe it was reasonable to conclude yer faithful reporter was the one.
Security 98!
Since it looked like she was on the run already, that meant screw with her, right? She asked me if she can help with anything so I asked, "Where can I find some Vaseline, darlin'?"
She stayed cool but right away her eyes got big and you could see it ... holy shit, fucking Frankenstein wants some Vaseline. WHAT is Frankenstein going to do with Vaseline??? WHAT the HELL will he do with it!!
Fortunately, she did not escalate to a Security 99. That's when they take you down and do a body cavity search.
And that's how I obtained the Vaseline and, possibly, became a Walgreens horror story in which the blondie girl can retell how she barely escaped with her life from Security 98!
I got to tangling with "Hey, Mister Ganja Man" the other day and maybe it needs a bigger visit than just playing tag. Words start floating about:
I met a man from Mozambique he's a Rasta don't you know He would vote for Bernie If he could be here for the show
Hey, Mister Ganja Man Where you goin' with that big, big smile Would you mind for a moment If we could talk here for a while
Mister Ganja Man Hey, Mister Ganja Man
We all know the basics that grass will get you through times of no money better than money will get you through times of no grass but Mister Ganja Man needs some more beef than, hey, it's really groovy getting a nice buzz.
It means a lot to me making friends with a Rasta in Mozambique and he and all the Rastas are well-informed about Bernie Sanders and they're strongly supportive. It's the same with Europe, albeit with the twisting of far-right extremists such as PEGIDA, UKIP, and National Front, etc. Euros who really are looking for truth (i.e. most of them) are strongly supportive of Sanders as well.
That global aspect of Sanders, Rastas and that whole vibe is what drives interest in the song again. It's been seven or eight years since the last time doing it publicly but it has a lot of depth for multiple reasons and maybe they have to be in there as well.
I knew a dancing marijuana plant he had such moves, don't you know Now he's gone, not coming back No-one knows where he did go
Hey, Mister Ganja Man Where you goin' with that big, big smile Would you mind for a moment If we could talk here for a while
We don't know if she is Mother Superior but we (cough) sure do like her habit. (That one was just for you, Kannafoot! larfs)
The pic is not faked with Photoshop but rather she is a member of a nunnery (?) which specializes in growing high-test reefer ... apparently in flagrant violation of law somewhere in California. (Ufunk: Holy Weed – Photographers document a group of nuns who grow cannabis)
That the ganja is the gonzo grade is shown by fact it has already colored the paper of the joint. We have some (cough) experience with smokin' the ganja and there's no chance she will finish that joint if she's trying to do it by herself. It looks like she has already found da blizz and she has hardly even started on it.
Yah, the New School doesn't grow ganja like yer hippie daddy did it.
We see a combination of a profound religious belief along with the spiritually freeing nature of marijuana leading to an extraordinary experience because the true believers aren't questioning the existence of God and the ones who really know the material understand the history in the Bible. They make the appropriate interpretations for that history but we at the Rockhouse have no business saying what that should be. If you are that kind of believer (mine is something different but that's not the point) then probably you can see how it's likely you would discover a spiritual synergy in this way which will be in no way destructive to your Christian beliefs.
The trap is getting to think you need to smoke the ganja to get with God and that can imperil some but it's not too likely.
(Ed: are you seriously suggesting Christians should smoke reefer?)
Sure I am. American Indians were onto it, oh, millennia ago.
Before you go blasting Mother Superior up there, I've never been advised of any proscription in the Bible against smoking the ganja. Besides, wtf, if God didn't put it there, you'll need some immaculate evolution to do it because mankind sure didn't make it.
There is still a huge regret I did a Willie Nelson on someone, inadvertently, who was well familiar with the ganja from the freak days but had not smoked any in quite a few years. Without thinking, I said, sure try some of this but I didn't think to take it easy. I've been smoking for many, many years so it all comes in stride but it's like a Saturn V launch next to a bottle rocket compared back to sixties reefer.
(Ed: what's so good about getting paranoid and dizzy?)
Regrettably, those are the consequences of smoking too much of it but it takes some experience to know when you have launched and smoking any more than that is not a good idea. It's similar to vino as you can drink a glass in the evening and get a nice glow ... or you can keep on drinking and end up puking your guts up on the lawn at two in the morning.
Note: there's almost no real similarity between ganja and vino and many Rastas don't drink. For this one, there is no 'nice glow' from the vino as I'll skip right past that to puking my guts up on the lawn. After a while I deduced the cause and effect relationship in this matter.
Maybe a minor rewrite to these lyrics will occur to you ... regardless, the guitarwork is supreme. The audio quality is not so supreme but we're hugely admiring of his skill and his tone. It's an emulation of George Harrison and yet it isn't.
On that basis, Keith Olbermann should just stay home and suck up mint juleps while the sun shines. The Kentucky Derby can't be too far off and that would be just as good, right?
Stopping Donald Trump isn't a matter of putting up sufficient roadblocks to prevent him from getting to the convention because his Wehrmacht will only start shooting and they have the guns to do it.
If Trump will be stopped and we believe he will be, the only effective way to do it is by providing positive and sincere support for that which you believe rather than endlessly proclaiming whatever you don't.
Conclusion: he only means to make a buck on the Trump / Cruz mudfight the same way Caitlyn Jenner did it with Clinton to serve as just one more paid stooge.
Bernie Sanders not only defeated Hillary Clinton in the primaries in Alaska and Washington today, he thrashed her with victories in the 70% to 80% range. Any time there has been a Clinton win, it's been generally a tiny margin and was hardly impressive. The polls will close in Hawaii in about ten minutes.
Note: we're not considering Southern states because we're only interested in the ones in which the voters wear shoes. Now we're into states with education, Clinton disintegrates. One amusing aspect is Clinton did even worse in Alaska than she did in 2008 against Obama. In fact, she's going backward.
(Ed: what about Ohio?)
That's the home of Kent State. Whenever someone tries to get an education there, President Nixon and Governor Rhodes will engage the National Guard to shoot them, four at a time if necessary. You may notice the resemblance to what Obama / Clinton did to the OWS protests. Same thing.
Laughing Gecko, it's your move ... along with busloads of Hawaiian Millennials, I'm trustin'. Bring home the trifecta, Brother Gecko! (larfs)
Donald Trump again has something right and even makes an important point in saying NAFTA was not Bill Clinton's idea, he was only the stooge who signed and implemented it; the idea and philosophy behind it actually came from Reagan is an extension of the disaster of Reaganomics rather than a novel new invention from the self-proclaimed Rhodes Radical. (CNN: Donald Trump reveals when he thinks America was great)
Something Trump omits from his stoner reverence for the fifties is this is the aftermath of Truman's fatal mistake in extending above-ground nuclear testing and so began the escalation during the fifties to the clear and present damage of immediate nuclear war, as we saw in 1962 with the Cuban Missile Crisis. Yeah, great times. Unfortunately for Trump, I remember them. The McCarthy witch hunts were a special treat too, weren't they.
After many, many concerts, I have never heard anyone singing with the range, power, and control of Cristina Ramos. She's up there with Tarja Turunen for operatic skills and how she applies them. Your call as to which one is better. Both are so good the question doesn't even mean anything.
The music starts at :40 and her skills are mesmerizing up-front ... but ... then she will blow you out of your chair.
She is thirty-seven now so we have got to ask ... where, where has this woman been!
I imagine even Miss Aretha would be saying, damn, that girl has a powerful set of lungs on her. Magnificent!
There is only one Cap'n, master of the aircraft, and my rules for flying have been if the pilot deems it safe enough for flying then I'm willing to fly with him/her. However, my rule is shot all to hell when I cannot trust the pilot to make the right decision.
The opening statement comes from an ex-employee of the accused company and we know this because he writes for us now and the actual pilot drove the aircraft into the runway, killing everyone onboard.
Update: some may enjoy some titillation in watching cross-wind landings on YouTube because they're terrifying to see in action. We can't imagine how the pilot can possibly accomplish such a landing but amazingly they do it ... or they wave off and go around for another try. The first error in judgment was insisting on landing at Rosnov at all rather than at an alternate and the second was in failing to wave off to retry.
(Judge Roy Bean: hang 'im!)
Thanks, Judge. Say there, did any trial in yer courtroom end without a hanging?
(Judge Roy Bean: not a one. My record is perfect.)
You must be so proud.
The buck never seems to stop anywhere anymore but there's no absolving the pilot of multiple fatal errors in judgment, not the least of which was failing to divert to an alternative airport. He had plenty of fuel, it was known the weather was better, but he chose not to do it. There is no buck for that.
We accept commanders but only so long as we have the belief they will make reasonable and logical decisions. When that duty is not met to perform in such a way, it's a failure in command and should be judged accordingly.
(Ed: kind of harsh!)
Consider how harsh I would be if I were one of the relatives of those who were killed.
This outrageous piece of asslicking is no more a part of We, the People, than boning Madonna or getting a ride for the Kentucky Derby. Such a waste to have so much money and so little vision.
He just had to be a big shot:
Well, you went uptown ridin' in your limousine With your fine Park Avenue clothes You had the Dom Perignon in your hand And the spoon up your nose Ooh, and when you wake up in the mornin' With your head on fire And your eyes too bloody to see Go on and cry in your coffee But don't come bitchin' to me
Photo taken by Marc Reichow, University of Leicester
The entire cliff would have been deposited very quickly from a fast-moving current of hot gas and ash (a pyroclastic density current), and the extreme temperatures (900-1000°C) caused the ash to weld to the ground and effectively enameled the area in dense volcanic glass. Note how the ancient top soil has been baked to orange terracotta in response to the intense heat.
- from the article reference above
Can you even imagine the extraordinary force of the event, one which they believe may have happened half a dozen times. After Mount Saint Helens erupted, there was a layer of dust on the land and that was hugely destructive but now extrapolate that problem to this one and I doubt it's even possible to conceive of Mother Nature's fury in this situation. Whatever the reason, we did not cause it as this was long before the time of Man.
Sometimes there is talk of 'controlling Nature' in this way or that and, here at the Rockhouse, we see the only logical response to that is to raise one eyebrow and say, "Oh, really? That's such a precious idea, darlin'!"
