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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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and
and
were all taken following this photo, and it is No. 420 in my pictures folder which is entitled Graveyard Rambler.
I left the pipe on the picnic table and had to return for it. The spot was deserted except for this kid and his dad, who was irritated he wouldn't come get back in the car. They left, though, so I was free to speculate about where to take this thread and I decided to go up to Glacier Point.
As fair warning, the crappers at GP are filled with ammonia gasses straight from Venus' atmosphere, I swear! Use only as a last resort before crapping in the woods. A man can't think and stink if he can't breathe.
On the other hand, the one at Redbud on the El Portal section of the Merced is pretty decent, and the one at the Wawona picnic area's seen better days.
Martin Luther had visions on the toilet, too, you know...
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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This was taken at 5:45.See the contrail?
This was taken at 5:47.The contrail has totally evaporated, indicating HEAT ON EARTH!
GOOD MORNING, Central Valley, and other hot spots across the nation.
A. C. TO ALL MEN OF EARTHY GOOD WILL.
Peace on the rest.
Unreal time has been suspended temporarily and we are now back in sidereal time.
Have a Julian Day.
The Julian Date (JD) of any instant is the Julian day number for the preceding noon plus the fraction of the day since that instant. Julian Dates are expressed as a Julian day number with a decimal fraction added.[2] The Julian Date for 02:26, 25 June 2013 (UTC) is 2456468.6020139.
An astronomer needs to know the number of days since noon at Greenwich on 1 Jan 4713 BC.
Thank God I'm not an astronomer and Gary Duncan is One!
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Mona can't be played on these machines.
And she doesn't want to play with these machines.
She loves these slots, though! Pay-out after pay-out! Bumpity-bumpity-bump!
A tribal casino might do well out on Highway 49 near Oakhurst.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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I was looking for more treasures along the side of the highway when this crew came roaring up the hill like a house afire.I had just found a nickel, then I found a nut, which I have misplaced since, and then I found a plumbing fitting of plastic--a nipple.
One for Mona to play with.
One for me to fool around with.
This is going better than I expected; I thought I had a roadside trifecta based on the letter N. It turns out that it's one better than that if I toss in the city limits sign from Nip.
I had just gotten out of the car a bit earlier after driving down Darrah Rd. and Triangle Rd. very near where the Carstens Fire forced folks from their homes all over the 'hood last week. I got out and noticed immediately that the AC in the car had absorbed the smell of the char from the fire!
On the way back to Middle Earth I shot this house fire wreckage, which is fenced and labelled NO TRESPASSING. Smokey Bear ought to set up an exhibit here.
This probably didn't happen in the summertime or the whole hill would have likely burned off. It will probably happen sooner or later.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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No settin' the woods on fire today, Tad. I'm going to the Rev's to attend his weenie roast in the mornin' tomorrow, THE FOURTH OF JULY!
What's that make USA, 238?
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, UNCLE!
That should sit well with the conservatives...
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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I wanted to go to Jerseydale to picturate some giant oaks that overlook the Merced South Fork. There are Indian grinding holes around them. The view from up there is special. I had no reliable map, just the one in my head, which more or less resembles this one.
On the way over the hill to Bootjack from Mariposa. The ourcrop shown is along the Chowchilla East Fork. Afternoon thunderheads are trying to promise something, which hardly will forestall our heat wave or the incipient drought.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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TIME OUT for the Way Back Machine.
These are some Jeff gave me I forgot to post.
the Rev told a story about his only encounter with PCP, at Ostrander Hut where he was caretaker for the winter prior to Weams' coming, when I was there in May to his place in Greeley Hill.
I can't recall the circumstances of how it was ingested into his system,but knowing our fearless leader back then, likely some dude said, "Here." And he said, "Well, okay, if you say so..." He's changed, believe me!
He was upstairs, and remember angel dust is a muscle relaxant. He reached out for to steady himself as he passed through the entry through the floor leading from the upper room of the hut down to the common room.
He missed and fell head over ass over air over tea kettle and landed on his feet, no sh#t, smiling and smelling rosy.
Smells like yarn from his socks to me, but the Rev NEVER LIES!
And Bobby D. never cries.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Faux'istory is my forte this July Fourth, so expect a burst of the wurst.
[Click to View YouTube Video]
I am a vicious lie-way man.
More than truth's a joke to me.
Less than that means nothing.
And that's how it is with me.
Like ham with turkey stuffing.
It's all good with history.
With a missed quote here,
And an estimate there,
Here a guess,
It's a mess,
Nobody will confess
That they much perfer it that way...
Cha cha cha
Nothing against Mr. Exacto, Clint. He's pretty sharp when ya need him. Respect. Happy First of July. :)
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Marlow
Sport climber
OSLO
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Great thread, fascinating photos and a climber's toe-nails... keep on flamin'
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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You lose yourself, you reappear You suddenly find you got nothing to fearAlone you stand with nobody nearWhen a trembling distant voice, unclearStartles your sleeping ears to hearThat somebody thinks they really found you
BOB DYLAN - IT'S ALRIGHT, MA LYRICS
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Norton
Social climber
the Wastelands
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Mouse!
I have to say I love looking at your old pictures!
thanks
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Short-Shoed Again: A Tale of the Bar None-of-the-Above and Its Rivalry with the Bar-F Bunch Told In Segments Long Enough To Be Entertaining But short Enough So You Might Learn Something If You Pay Attention To the Details
[We cordially in-vite sponsorially-in-clined gents and ladies to step up and send a cash offering, CASH, CHECK, or MONEY ORDER. If you want, we’ll make a note of it here (in BOLDFACE LIE OLD ROMAN TYPE yet; plus we’ll make that extra effort to spell your name or names write. TYFYIndulgence in our maniacy.]
Tale the First
True to his word, the Rev always delivered for the Bar None-of-the-Above. We all admired him for his set ways and his devotion to the least detail, when he could remember one. It was said of him throughout the county that “the Rev never lies.” Truer aphoric comment has never crossed my eardrum. I only can hear outa this’n. You should be aware. And this thumb? It ain’t there. It got dallied one day. Fvucking ponies!
As a ranch foreman, let’s say that he kept his job when many of his kind simply faded away like a trail of dust in the breeze. His job was to make us stand our cattle-watches, fix firearms, tinker with gasoline engines if one came around and its driver found stony roads and round wheels ain’t too compatible. And the roads GROW rocks hereabout. Oh, and we had cattle-watches due to mainly the incursions of a neighbor’s crew on the herd.
That was the watchword with the Rev. Did ya hear about this or that or him or it?
One story he tried to spin was about a songwriter named Mabel Meerepolled. He’s supposed to have cow-wrote a tune with Billy Holstein-Day back in the day. Back in the day when they wouldn’t let polled cattle run with anything but cows. Now they got ‘em all in feed lots. Well, not exactly, he’ll tell ya, but it’s as much as I remember. I think he said the name of the song was Strange Brew, but I’m short on memory cells m’self.
His stories tend to wander like a watermelon vine and I sing just the damn melody while the Rev sings bass lines; only I do remember things more correctly more of the time. That's backwards, some, cuz you'd axsociate a solid boy like the Rev with the one of us with the solid memory.
And I got a smaller waist, though he just calls his “the congregation” while I call mine Abs. I used to outweigh him, if you can believe it. In true fact, I could have named mine Ahab, but that didn't fit too well. It sould have been Moby Blubbergut. But I stopped eatin' his pancakes and stooped to eating yoghurt and fruit and clams. And no more anchovy on the pizza. In more truth, pizza's totally out, too.
If he wanted, I’d call him boss, but we know each other too long to call each other anything but the Rev and Mouse. His hat size is bigger’n mine, and so’s his paycheck, but his heart’s big as a full moon out on the plains.
He’s havin’ a weenie roast for the Fourth of July. It’s annual.
Our pal-ship is perennial, though. He’ll cut straight across the draw and set a man straight if he sees he’s on the wrong trail or trailin’ when he ought to be out on point for a spell cuz of the dust.
He’s one of a kind and it’s been mostly funny with some clouds, like the weather in general hereabout, here lately.
It was a long dusty trail gettin' to here. Let's just hope the road is paved all the way home now.
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zBrown
Ice climber
Brujo de La Playa
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Nice photos, startling observations. Run and get a bucket, get the baby some beer.
Kat
Man
Do
Hanging on by a thread - don't cross the z-Line.
The functional properties of the human atrial essential myosin light chain (hALC-1) has never been evaluated in an intact heart preparation on the whole organ level. Functional examination of the chemically skinned ventricular fibers from a transgenic mouse model overexpressing the mouse ALC-1 showed a higher maximal shortening velocity (Vmax) when compared to non-transgenic mice: In the mouse heart, 95% replacement of mouse VLC-1 by the mouse ALC-1 was accompanied by a 1.78-fold increase in Vmax of shortening. However chemically skinned ventricular fibers of patients expressing the hALC-1 with 20% replacement of human VLC-1 by human ALC-1 showed 1.88-fold increase in maximal shortening velocity (Vmax). Although the data are consistent, it appears that the effect of mouse ALC-1 is attenuated as compared with hALC-1. These data suggest that there is a significant difference between the human and mouse ALC-1 isoforms at the functional level. To verify the functional efficiency of hALC-1 compared with mouse ALC-1 and to analyze hALC-1 functions in intact whole heart preparations, a transgenic rat-model overexpressing the hALC-1 was produced and characterized at the protein and functional levels.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Sergeant Stryker, my arm's suffering from lack of pizzaz and I's wonderin' if it's cuz of my natural quantity of VLC-1 or should I just drink more buttermilk?--Private Pyles
[Click to View YouTube Video]
If you believe it is so, you should follow your heart as millions of brave Americans have. In other words, Private, I DON'T KNOW THAT! Do I look like a Corpsman to you? You go up to the Buttermilk Country, son, and become an honored member of the pantheon; and remember, the only V's you got to worry about as far as I'm concerned are V-0 and up. So go do your own thing with blood & sweat but no damned tears. It's how we did things when we filmed Stagecoach.--Duke
Buttermilk Family
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ukx5K5e6f80
Han Bennink live at Safe as Milk Festival in 2008
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EIg_zUlg_Zg
BST/Sometimes In Winter (first LP)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_D0HVYiMyq8
I may have to put this in the 4th of July thread.
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zBrown
Ice climber
Brujo de La Playa
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I know there are more than two ways to skin a kat. What's puzzling me is precisely how to chemically skin ventricular fibers.
BTW, mr. mouse, are you collecting your fair share of royalties from say, The Jackson Laboratory (JAX® Mice Strains).
C57BL/6J-ApcMin/J
The C57BL/6J-ApcMin/J strain is highly susceptible to spontaneous intestinal adenoma formation. Homozygous mice are not viable. It was initially reported that one hundred percent of the C57BL/6J-ApcMin heterozygous mice raised on a high fat diet develop in excess of 30 adenomas throughout the intestinal tract and most die by 120 days of age. Heterozygotes also develop anemia. (Moser et al., 1990, Su et al., 1992). A small number of C57BL/6J-ApcMin heterozygous female mice develop mammary tumors. A subsequent publication indicates that this strain may carry a dominant modifier (Mom2) gene that reduces the number and incidence of polyp formation in C57BL/6J-ApcMin heterozygous mice (Silverman et al., 2002).
Money doesn't talk it swears. Some might even say fuuck you, Uncle Walt, show me the money.
(http://jaxmice.jax.org/list/cat481357.html);
Rednecks, don't know they ass from a hole in the ground, but they are free..
[Click to View YouTube Video]
Just call (in the morning)
[Click to View YouTube Video]
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zBrown
Ice climber
Brujo de La Playa
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No strings to bind your hands. Sure glad Merrilee wasn't keelhauled.
Don't rush though the tears, turn the other cheek.
[Click to View YouTube Video]
junkYard Angel take two:
The song "Angel of the Morning" was written and composed by the songwriter Chip Taylor (né James Wesley Voight, the younger brother of the actor Jon Voight and the uncle of the actress Angelina Jolie). Taylor had also written and composed "Wild Thing," a hit for The Troggs
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Well, podnuhs, it seems Dean Jones lives.
I'm sorry, I meant Wilby.
Oops, I meant Elwood.
I'm not doggin' ya, podnuhs.
Dean Jones lives (in Wikipedia and who am I to contradict John Dill's go-to reference?).
It seems unfair, somehow, that Hayduke only lives in fiction.
Ed Abbey's soul, being a vulture at one time (surely he's been re-incarnated from that evanescence by NOW--he's been dead longer than some of your mothers' father's), surely is wretching to have his worthy work associated with Walt.
I can hear him now.
"F*#k you, Walt, and that nag Widow-Maker on which you rode in...which you rode in on...on which you rode coming here, you big shiny-pants snake-oil-selling, flim-flamming so and so."
It is now the Fourth of July. We have just solved, zBrown, a puzzling matter for me. I wondered what to leave here with, so far as last posts till one comes home go. The wonders of collaboration never cease to flabbergast me.
Thanks for all the repartee, the music sharing, and the humor. I'm hoping you don't burn the meat when you grill tomorrow. It's the American Way. I prefer hamburgers on the Fourth, but eat what's offered. I'm saying this because I'm taking off shortly for Greeley Hill. Driving in the wee hours is far safer on the holidays, I'm finding.
[Click to View YouTube Video]
[Click to View YouTube Video]
Dean is Ed Cooper. Believe it. His best ever performance. In front of a camera! :)
Happy Independence!
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