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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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That was some good past rock, Mr. Roy. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I do go further back than you may realize, however.
First, the lyrics to Mr. Sinatra's My Way.
And now, the end is here
And so I face the final curtain
My friend, I'll say it clear
I'll state my case, of which I'm certain
I've lived a life that's full
I traveled each and ev'ry highway
And more, much more than this, I did it my way
Regrets, I've had a few
But then again, too few to mentionI did what I had to do and saw it through without exemption
I planned each charted course, each careful step along the byway
And more, much more than this, I did it my way
Yes, there were times, I'm sure you knew
When I bit off more than I could chew
But through it all, when there was doubt
I ate it up and spit it out
I faced it all and I stood tall and did it my way
I've loved, I've laughed and cried
I've had my fill, my share of losing
And now, as tears subside, I find it all so amusing
To think I did all that
And may I say, not in a shy way,
"Oh, no, oh, no, not me, I did it my way"
For what is a man, what has he got?
If not himself, then he has naught
To say the things he truly feels and not the words of one who kneels
The record shows I took the blows and did it my way!
[instrumental]
Yes, it was my way.
The secret to the success of this song is that it was such a wellllllllll-written piece of poetry. It appeals to each and every one of us who has a self-image of the wood chip going against the stream, or of the boulder that won't move. Our psyches respond to this type of stroking. Madison Avenue (Are they still the advertising center they were back there?) knew this decades ago. The underlying philosophy of effective ads is to reinforced what people have already determined they like. Once you've purchased something and hear or see an ad for that thing, you are being told you have made a correct choice. Stroke, stroke, stroke.
There must be a climb somewhere named for M-my W-way.
I do like the reference to each & every highway. I can relate very much lately here.
Billy Bibbit is the opposite to this personality, in my mind.
http://www.youtuberepeater.com/watch?v=yzpLB9ulA3s
I don't belive in this world anymore
I con't believe in me anymore
If I can rise above it...
Can anybody save me?
Another shell in which to live, not forgive?
[Click to View YouTube Video]This clip from one of my faves might show that.
That last line of Nurse Rat is pretty good.
"Therapy."
The rapee, more like.
She set poor Billy's self-esteem back another notch with what she was doing, reminding him of his mother's disapproval.
Bitch.
Before I forget, here's yesterday's sunrise.
Today's will be here on time, I'm happy to say, at 6:07. But I'm not sanguine that the pall of smoke over the moutains will have lifted. Nope, looked out the window--still hanging in there. I bet today's rvent looks about like yesterday's.
I liked the spectres of the peaks that appeared as shadows on the smoke in yesterday's shots. I forget the name of that phenomenon as it's known over in Europe, when shadows are displayed on clouds.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Have a fine Sunday.
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zBrown
Ice climber
Brujo de La Playa
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As they say in the song, spotlight on James Brown (was Buster his love child?)
If you're more into guitar special effects than ballwhacking, here's my nephew with his BARRACUDA pedal invention (it's kinda long, feel free to fast-forward).
[Click to View YouTube Video]
Not to play favorites, so here's another nephew and his crane. If I fall down dyin', he's bound to pick me up.
[Click to View YouTube Video]
* Disclaimer. I get no kickbacks. I will point out that the pedal company is no longer Toadworks, but rather TEN Effects.
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zBrown
Ice climber
Brujo de La Playa
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Interestingly (or maybe not), the Sweetwater and Lower Otay dams failed or collapsed in 1916. The flooding was blamed on the infamous Charles Hatfield, aka The Rainmaker (not affiliated with Dylan's friend, though the walls did collide and Mr. Hatfield did depart rather quickly).
Well, the rain man comes with his magic wand
But the judge says, "Mona can't have no bond"
And the walls collide, Mona cries
And the rain man leaves in the wolf man's disguise.
Sweetwater
Lower Otay
[Click to View YouTube Video]
Lower Otay today does appear to be solid.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Pate, it was way past time for the change. The new one with the pink titties will be a crowd pleaser...
DMT tastes like Pate's old socks, SO DON'T SMOKE HIM!
These Buster Broon's are magic, lad!
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zBrown
Ice climber
Brujo de La Playa
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Whilst on the topic of Portugal, Carlos Alberto Gomes De Sá (age 39) of Portugal won the Badwater race this year in 24:38:16.
There appeared to be about 15 DNF'ers out of 96.
Dean Karnazes who is now 50 finished 32:27:17.
Oldest finisher appears to be Mark Olson (66) 40:51:56,
Oldest (but DNF) Karsten Solheim (76). Amazing.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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How to have fun while beating the sh#t out of your body. No thanks.
Fitness, not witless.
"Let the Hills Run, Red."
The Hills Run Red/Starring Henry Silva in this action-packed western IN ENGLISH. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eDDNlDZ3kWM
The beating Henry takes in the intro scene with the Yanks, now that the war is over, struck me as being in line with the brutality of this self-esteem gig called the Badwater. That would be a great name for a spaghetti brand.
Your basic revenge flick with holsters and horses and Henry. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henry_Silva
"Pot-boil the Badwater and enjoy your meal."
Fjord Django, the newest in a line of western-names-for-cars, along with the Sierra, the Laredo, the Scottsdale, is being put on the market soon from Saab. There's a troll hanging around, too. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Troll_(automobile);
Viva Django (1968 spaghetti western)
Starring: Terence Hill, Horst Frank and George Eastman
A mysterious gunfighter named Django is employed by a local crooked political boss as a hangman to execute innocent locals framed by the boss, who wants their land. What the boss doesn't know is that Django isn't hanging the men at all, just making it look like he is, and using the men he saves from the gallows to build up his own "gang" in order to take revenge on the boss, who, with Django's former best friend, caused the death of his wife years before.
It's a revenge story. I got to sleep halfway thru and didn't miss anything. I replayed it. Sundays should always be this way, unless you're out in the hills.
Nicola di Bari/You'd Better Smile
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qH5JwmPWmfI
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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How to bring a climber back from the sky? A silly thing for me to try.
But how'd he get so far, so high? Real good rubber, that is why.
The Devil’s Milk: A Social History of Rubber/John Tully
http://monthlyreview.org/press/books/pb2310/
Photo taken for instructional purposes only.
Climb like you have a brain!
zBrown, I hear Mark Olson drinks only coffee and milk. But he's gonna be a Norski, betcha, not a Finn. He's a non-Finnish finisher?
I simply could not resist. Nick makes me do these things.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Speaking of birthdays, neebee, thank you for the gift of your presence here.
You certainly weren't born under a bad sign; that's an ASL joke, my dear.
A short tribute to my older brother, the sportsman, long may he live.
He kilt a chipmunk when he was only six. He kilt his first bear when he was a young teen. His grampa Bill Bermingham took him and molded him as a boy ought to be. Taught him to skin, filet, butcher, flyfish, jerk, etc. Plucking he managed to learn on his own.
He married his wife's cousin, a much more fitting mate, a lust match not. Just two cynics united. Amen.
I love them just the way they are.
Thank you, Grampa, you did a swell job.
We had the world's worst sound system at our home and they didn't know it. I used the stereo constantly when I lived there in the late sixties for short spells. I was a mannish boy, moving around as the spirit dictated, or needs.
I had some Muddy and BB, but this was the real deal, far as I was concerned. I'd heard him play in the Fillmore on the Hendrix ticket, I think, when I was enlisted and at TI in SF Bay.
Albert I, King of the Blues/The Hunter
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mrWa3gE7p9g
Love gun. Huh.
Of course I had this album. It was produced in 1967. If anyone wants my opinion, THIS IS THE RECORD OF THE CENTURY.
By a black man or a white man.
No opinion on this century. It's not a total bust yet.
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zBrown
Ice climber
Brujo de La Playa
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Continuing to harp on the damn dams. Lower Otay with Car. Obviously after it was rebuilt (the dam, not the car).
Not the same car and headed toward Pt. Loma Lighthouse.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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This may be a view from the road to Pt. Loma, taken by Boomer in the early seventies.
How to tell it's the seventies:
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Small Retro Trip Report, featuring Boom 'n' Dave, who "managed" their way into this super-top-secret and bona fide intelligence-gathering spot that Ma Bell used to keep tabs on us.
That intrusion, however, is now a thing of the past. Today they do it with computers and "they" are "the friends of Tom Carlottabull."
BELIEVE IT OR NOT!
I never have gone up there, myself. I vlewed the spot from the air on my 45th birthday in a private plane, though. Don't remember how it looked.
As a pilot for the Army in the war, Boomer trained at various San Joaquin fields, like Tulare. He didn't fly over the Sierra Nevada at all, just over the valley. He remarked once on how f*#ked-up the air was even back then over the place. You can really tell the ground atmosphere's junk from up there.
Dave Lemmel passed away at a very young age, in his early fifties. He was a good mechanic and purchased Dad's Goliath from him. We had a VW to replace that French ride. Then Dave was forced out of PT&T when the Bell System was broken up and things were vastly re-organized. He took an early retirement, a pittance, really, and was a bus driver for VIA from then on, hauling bodies to and from Yosemite and Merced. I never knew him except to say hello.
Dad's brother, Chuck Bermingham, was trained by PT&T as a technician, who serviced and troubleshot equipment at sites like Mt. Bullion. I believe he did work on it once and stayed at our place while he was thus employed. He had more training time than anyone I know. He loved it, because it was easy for him to absorb and he got much better pay as a result, nearly every time he trained he qualified for more money.
RIP, Chuck, Boomer, and Dave, three company stand-up guys, along with Grampa Bill, who ran things in the Redding "plant."
As long as I'm talking about my dad--
The gentleman being seved is Dad's best friend, Nick Puglizevich, who owned half of Gus 'n' Nicks Liquors and Delicatessen in Merced. His partner, Gus Drumm, retired AF brass, was his partner, and he played golf with Boomer and his other buddies every Wednesday for thiry years or so. And his wife, Bunny, was one of Mom's best drinking buddies. There must have been close to fifty people there that night, boozing it up. Nick and Mike ended up in the pool fully clothed. I remained sober as a judge, just not straight.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Anent the recent musings and conversation about conservation of cattle range, not against encroachment by the pistachio, necessarily, on the plains, but in the footies.
But the article does say Merced County, so this will probably be addressed as well in meetings, one hopes.
I'll explain why this concerns me so much. I grew up here on Olive Ave. back when we had a view of the hills out of our bedroom window, including the coneheads. It was part of growing up, seeing the view erased by actual housing tracts like they grew in Sacramento in the fifties. It is still happening and it's because of the burgeoning population in the central valleys, like it happened in Orange and LA Counties, etc. This is the selfish aspect.
The righteous aspect is that without an automobile-oriented infrastructure, none of this would be possible. It's why I have been so reluctiant to buy a car until recently, in part. I figure my dues have been paid, my C footprint is significantly smaller than many folks', and I'm only going to be driving occasionally as I age, presumably.
I've gone past the angry, and am simply depressed and chagrined that the people in charge have no clues, for the most part.
Fossil Climber, it's with envy that I think of where and how you and Cindy live and of many of the posters here who live in out-of-the-way spots or locales that are in no danger from encroachment, I feel the same about your situations--envious.
One galling note, the meeting scheduled for Modesto is being held in the Pistache Room! Haw-Haw-Haw!
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Donini got a gift of pickled beets from me that I got from Geri. Can't beet that.
A Courtship Story.
They are living in sin, OMG! At that age, too!
It's nothing to be embarrassed about.
This woman's a lot of fun to talk to about country ways.
And Norman, "Mr. Olive," was in the Reservoir Dogs movie, but his scenes were all cut.
He cussed too much and kept sucking down martinis.
This shook Quentin, and it stirred him to action.
"You're sh#t-canned, old man, so f*#k off!"
"I'm sh#t-faced, you punk, so stick a pickle up your butt!"
BELIEVE IT OR NOT!
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