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zBrown
Ice climber
chingadero de chula vista
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Gonna have to do some research, so this will have to stand in for now, but this is something like the first TV I remember my family having. I bring this up since this evening I observed five adults gathered around watching a iPhone screen. Devolution or just Devo?
Interesting that when you go looking for images of old TV sets, this guy pops up. Possibly even more interesting he pops up even when pop ups are blocked.
This is one example (of perhaps billions) of not achieving tubular status. Lou on the other hand probably could have gone toes over while getting tubed if it hadn't been for that Bud fellow.
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zBrown
Ice climber
chingadero de chula vista
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but wait:
but wait:
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Those are the same dang hand signals the Seals used in Abbottabad!These are Wahsisneym's last words to the shooters.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Here is Skip Johnson's parents' radio, purchased in about 1940 from McMurray's here in Merced.
I'm told it's never moved from this spot, and Skip showed the Rev and I the special electrical outlets (2) in the wall behind. One's power in and one's power out to a double array of incremental antenna loops for short wave reception, the which is mounted in the attic just above the radio.
No thalidomide jokes, please.
And yes, the furniture seems to need dusting.
Here it is. It is like this. This is the way it is. It all began when Norton Johnson's first wife, the flapper in the photo on the cables to Half Dome, died and he re-married, only to find they could not have a family. Skip became the luckiest kid for miles, he says, to be adopted by the Johnsons. Norton is the same age as my own grandfather, Leonard Larson, b. 1899. All the stuff Skip inherited from his folks is a full generation older than the things that I've been left by mine.
Skip's mom was a hoarder. Skip's been able to dig through most of the junk and I'm eagerly waiting like a dog for scraps. I got Skip a hamburger when the Rev and I went to In 'n Out to be polite. Like I took him out for dinner last week to the 510.b (it's my new pet name for the 510 Bistro--cool, huh?), to show him appreciation in a tangible way for letting me voyeur all over his antique goodies.
So the Rev and I and Skip sat down in Skip's now-cleared back yard and he regaled us with stories and he even brought out a generous amount of conversational lubricant. the Rev doesn't lie, and he doesn't smoke, either, but we didn't care. We sat and smoked and lied. We should've had a campfire. Jeff, the Rev; myself: and Skip, Mark's his given name, little-orphan-boy-only-child, relatives who told him that he was adopted by the whole Johnson clan, not just that couple living in Merced;. It's what you want to hear, huh?
Jeff came up with a story about him and Dick Ellsworth of flame-bearded fame.They were climbing up to the saddle between Ritter and Banner and in the gully was a lot of snow. A date climb was going badly, he berating she for her inablility and fear, though she had never climbed before (sheesh, they can get more stupid than this guy but you hate to hear about it) this, and the boys felt they had to help out, so they did, by belaying each clown DOWN OFFA MY CLOUD, GODDAMIT!
So they completed their own climb, I think. As fate would have it, though, our Flamish climbing partners are in the Village Store a bit later, though Jeff didn't say when, and the rescued pair are there thanking them all over the place, offering to buy food, give sexual favors, etc. Being humble, and committed to the truth, the Rev insists they forget it and give it to the deserving poor. They are noble dirt
baggers and wandervogel out goin', "Hope we never run into them again!"
As expected, the Rev was in the Tetons later that year. This was likely, he said '73 or '74. She was there. He was long gone. This is all I'm sayin' cuz I don't remember the rest of the story.
Ask Dick?
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zBrown
Ice climber
chingadero de chula vista
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If you only just wouldn't clap so hard ... oops ... if only they would dust that baby once in a while we could see what station was popular back in 1940.
I would guess that it was Armed Forces Radio, but I could be wrong.
[Click to View YouTube Video]
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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He said,
Skip Johnson, he said:
"He that toucheth the AM Radio dial can kiss his peace of mind goodbye.
This is the signal that the Lord hath provided.
Blessed be the 1480 setting on your radio dial.
This and this only shall you not do:
Thou shalt not change the setting on the dial from KYOS to any other, for it is enough that farm reports, solid conservative programming, and a sincerely American standard of listening is provided free of charge.
Blessed be Daddy Cool and Paine, Webber, Jackson, and Curtis, who've brought your stock report up to date.
Honor thy Cecil's Golden Chicken and your appetite's friend, and chill with Del Shannon and The Byrds.
Thy own days shall be spent in Paradise with deep purple glows and purple haze and the Prince of Bel Air re-runs on ur TV affiliate.
This is the sound that the Lord hath made; let us rejoice and be real happy but NEVER turn that dial!
Because, for the love of God, we could end up living in a van down by Bear Creek--which is a lot better than living in a van down by Choss Creek, ID, BTW."
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Postcard from the edge of Berkeley. 1970.
Ephraim Clampus Vitus business. Ballyhoo specialists. Mockers extraordinaire.
"WTF is a hewgag?", I asked.
It's this thing.When a brother dies, they all get together in a show of grief. Quite a panoply if it's done correctly.A huge cry-fest with liquor, I imagine, but this is hearsay, of course. I was never asked to join, nor would I, any more than I would join any club but this one. It's a full time gig being a Flame, at least for me. And I've never been to a Clamper rite.
And please, don't be blowin' any horns on my account when I'm ashes. Save your breath.
Plant me a cork tree as a memorial some where. Put me in the sand at the base of Mt. Clark. But don't make any noise. I'll have gone to my rest, though, so...
This is my favorite shot of mine of Yosemite, from last week.
Whatever is that person doing to that noble tree?
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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[Click to View YouTube Video]I drank lots of Mateus rose at Degnan's, Bob. STFU about that and play!
RIP for Gypsy's buddy.
This is who Dave Bromberg wanted to REALLY be. It's understandable.
[Click to View YouTube Video]He was so good he made me split my infinitive!
The last song, See You In My Dreams, that's for the obvious cats and birds in the circle who will be able to see their puddy-tats, their loved ones, and their mommies only in their dreams because they're RIP, mostly.
And my mom, she'd like this one by Dino.[Click to View YouTube Video]So speak to your angels, amigos.And I'll speak to mine about hers.
Peace.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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IT'S A TERRIFIC SHOW, TOO, GYPSY!!!
I imagine Bob will be missed about on the order of this phenomenon.But there are a bunch of other good, tasty things to listen to, as usual.
I think we'd all like a report on ARIEL'S LEGS and his healing. What's up?
I had an unplanned Flames-related gathering yesterday. I ate at the 510 last night and when I was there ran into a trio from the past. The first one I recognized as Paul Ward, who took Coz's old Chevy off my hands. He went to a table where his wife Pat sat with an elderly lady (as in a generation older than I am old), who was Paul's ma, Isabelle Coates, wife of the late former owner of the Record Rendevous, an intimate of such as the Flaming Groovies and the Brogues.
How's this relate to the Flames, you ask? It is Isabelle Coates, the junior version known as Belle, who was Bullfrog's GF and who gave him his Martin guitar. Belle is Paul's half-sister sister. She is living elsewhere, Bullfrog's somewhere in The City.
You guys recall our trip to the Bugaboos, the Rev, BF, and myself? It's related earlier in the thread.
Pat Ward used to be married to a climber named Jim Dahlstrom. They opened a climbing/packing/biking concern on Main St. in the seventies. Mark Tuttle became involved in this retail shop sometime after the Dahlstroms' divorce. (My understanding.) He had been guiding for YMS and had also been a bicycle racer as a junior rider, I guess.
Mark is busy as heck. He just finished up a haul bag for Dave Yerian. Hope that worked out well, Dave.
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zBrown
Ice climber
chingadero de chula vista
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Bear Creek brand. I already have one of these so I don't think I'll buy this on ebay.
Since it is a pocket and desk model, it might be useful to others hoping to sharpen their wit.
[/img]http://wvtools.com/images/ebaystore/124339a.JPG{{/img}}
There seems to be some confusion about the model number, but thankfully we can turn to Great Britain for the answer. I would not recommend the purchase of this one since they were asking US $5.99 for the item and US $45.00 for the postage. No wonder the colonies revolted.
Clearly mine has seen a lot of use.
Anyway, "everybody must get stoned"
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Everybody don't get stoned?
But that rhymes with boned. And. So. Frot.
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zBrown
Ice climber
chingadero de chula vista
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Stone? It stoned me. To my soul? Not sure. I.F. Stone - journalistic work drew heavily on obscure documents from the public domain ... Stonemasters - just how long is a stone apprenticeship? Stonemonsters? Meudusa.
[Click to View YouTube Video]
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Let's see...zBrown and stone...
Quarries from the Passaic Formation in northern New Jersey once supplied most of the brownstone used in New York City and in New Jersey itself.--dawikisiki
Passaic: County, city, and river in New Jersey; derived either from the Indian word Passaic or Passajeek, "a valley," or from the Indian equivalent of "peace."--sacklunch.net/placenames
Itaque, Yosemite Passaic, California.
"You bet Jurassic's peaceful here, stranger."
"We can't wait to see the Snow Creek stegasaurus herd."
"On your right is the largest brownstone monolith in the country. Please remain behind the yellow line, kid."
con·cat·e·nate (k n-k t n-t, k n-) tr.v. con·cat·e·nat·ed, con·cat·e·nat·ing, con·cat·e·nates. 1. To connect or link in a series or chain.
Our specialty here.
As with string concatenation, here there is typically no explicit concatenation operator, simply CMac.
And all those innocent bystanders.
[Click to View YouTube Video]
This was "Stupid Richard" origially, BITD (1970). Apathy House favorite.
We had one of these Richards. Not a clue. Total innocent. Always thinks he's right, you can't possibly have the right of it. A Tony Bird.
But he's GUILTY! And he's doin' his time, watchin' it go by.
So stupid.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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AHAW! STUPID RICHARD>STEELY DAN...A stainless link in the Dan chain.
"Again with the damned chains, Marley?"
Mom, he's concatenating again! Tell him to stop...again.
[Click to View YouTube Video]
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Thanks, Gypsy. Tambura man's pretty hot. Maybe he's running a tamburature? HOW IS ARIEL'S LEG, etc?
Meanwhile, back at the Circle Bar Middle E Ranch:
R brand, not registered, no real cows to do so. It's too easy to change, too.
A touron from the Valley cattle-car could do it. Their kids could do it. Pretty soon, they might become literate. Oh, Brave New World, where all kids read and write and come from the womb doing V4+.
I digress.
I was up before Eos and I took my own Eos Rebel and forced these shots to be good ones.
Yawn, dawn, Haan.
(Peter phone home.}Like I say, and most will agree, once you've reached a certain level, on the learning curve, you need to recognize the right times and places and store them in your head. Luck plays a big part.
Let me say, too, that since I bought this camera, my life's different in many ways. I am no longer so concerned about actually climbing, myself, but recording. I am old enough to appreciate the past, realize that I have only now, actually, and the future's just a blank with no worries other than "Will anybody miss me?" The camera has also quickened my poetic instinct. "That's all, folks," that I needed to say.
And thanks for listening to our station.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n6j4TGqVl5g
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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May 10, 2013 - 01:22pm PT
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Roger's a professional whose studio is two blocks from my place, in Middle Earth's neighboring kingdom, Main Canal.
Roger's cool. Roger's my friend. He let me know gently yesterday that I may need a new sensor in my Eos, that it likely isn't just dirt or something on the lenses themselves. Shinola, but it's under warranty...
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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May 10, 2013 - 01:29pm PT
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