Discussion Topic |
|
This thread has been locked |
zBrown
Ice climber
Brujo de la Playa
|
|
|
Feb 10, 2014 - 10:21am PT
|
The word "Otay" is apparently derived from the Kumeyaay word "otai" (pronounced "Oh-Tie" - though Buckwheat my dispute this), meaning brushy.
Say, for example, I had an Otay with the law, and the law won.
|
|
mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
|
|
|
Feb 11, 2014 - 01:19am PT
|
What was that, WonsLaw?
I said, Old Folks, that I had a sister-in-law's cousin who lived in Ohai, Ventura County. She was a lady, but the fact is that she worked pipeline construction gangs on Ventura, the Miracle Mile for the "ol' bidness."--her words, old fart, and she had such quaint language, believe me. But she knew how to dance and the waltz was her forvorite, like in Matilda, the Ozzie Anthem?
I play it all the time, you know that.
I do indeed.
Ohio, IL, knows Ojai. There are such things in the Midwest called snowbirds.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ohio,_Illinois
Ohio, IL., has a Desert Wildflowers Museum.
BELIEVE IT OR SEE SEYMOUR KNOTS!
(He's the Director, a county employee, and his office is in the rear of what he called the Lotus Flower Silo Room. He climbs a decent grade, and has hair on his rack. He's a tranny.) Free peyote buttons, good-looking secretary, tastes like chicken because she is, and TWO PHONE LINES! Who could ask for a mo' better gig?)
A note on the so-called "sport" of chicken-tossing from Seymour's chick, Matilda the Honey--
It may have been fun for you. Not for me. Did you come first? I didn't st all, and in fact, my lawyer, Bently the Bender of wills, will be in touch. Unlike we.
Matilda, your Tiny Dancer
P.S.--f.u. i hope you can read norwegian abbrs. well i can and i know a guy who loves road-house island redheads, or so he says, up in strawberry.
i hope you marry a dyke, azz-wipe.
By the way, today I was playing the Fool by WSM...I mean, QSM, see...
Always, always, the buffoon, aren't you, whoever you are. Out of character, there, but that quick-change maneuver was mind-blowingly fast, man! And you are now, as I perceive you, a bum, a derelict, a street person. And you have a tic, s slight one, but it's detectable and effective. I turned away, in fact. What a consummate actor you are you remind me of...of...Yosemite Sam! Indeed!
I wish heartily to say the same of you as an author, one day, WasNot.
Thank you and Gracias, Amigonite. Rock on!
Wait, Wassail, uh, no, don't. Come, in fact, and come fastly, adverbishly quickly, please! Come to the rear of the building, by the route we British-Mexican-Americans know as Calle Securidado, Safe STreet. Meet me in two minutes.
I've never done it in more than one minute and three-quarters. What have you for me to see. Bozolito? By the way, how did you achieve that skin tone?
It's called El Cap Hotel A/C, and it is derived from an exorbitantly expensive virietal of Alaskan Thunderflash/Thicke in the Middle.
You shall see, Schwinnson. I have a spliff or two here in my serape/hoodie pocket, I'm sure. Do not delay, for I must away.
Who? What?
Poodles! French-Canadian Poodles, man! GO!
|
|
mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
|
|
|
Feb 11, 2014 - 02:22am PT
|
for your approval, allya Fools.[Click to View YouTube Video]It was a beautifilled day.
Hippies' vibes to everyone who ever felt the fool about where he got, u no, planted.
QSM, to me, the rock rolling kid from Merdead, is faster than the rest, better tuned in to actual VIBES, than any of the rest of the San Farcisco Sound that Died because they refused to heed that strange sequence of vibratory knowledge of trusting one another.
Sad as a glass of whine alone, but Mick started that line of thought, because much in life saddens, not just lonely boozin'.
It has been an interesting weak in Lake Wosemite.
I may take a few to post these shots.
As they said when they raided us one night, during the Faux 4 Yosemite Bears Raid of '71, a cold January night, in Camp 4, in Yosemite, in fact,
"be cool, fool. just need a sugar fix. chill, comrades. 4 of u, 4 of us. en francais, detente. we have dependents. they can't live on acorns and weeds and the ants are all on strike. we are starving."
this was a tragedy. we placed our hammers next to their ancestor's sickles. we smoked and made peace.
They were a rogue soviet (they claimed to have won the last election) of cinnamon bears from Kyburst-on-Rubicon, a seldom-visited enclave of wild excess, reputedly, but this was great exaggeration, we NEEC vodka! like u climbers need that keystone swill. they all spoke norwegian, but i know the lingo, and we had some vibes among us, believe it or nyet.
i heard things from them i'll never tell u. ever, ever, ever.
we all blamed nixon.
//blood oath, red as rum, twice a blinding,
as a quick turn on silvretta binding//
that's bullsh#t. nobody understands that factor.
AND BESIDES, AS A MATTER OF FACT,
smokey the duck, chongo, chickentpisser. yeah, theyr'e cool in many langridges, but the duck, he's gonna die, chongo, he's gonna go even further underground, and chickenslammer, well, he's got facial tics coming on.
all i gotta say.
EXCEPT,
i can do better to communicate my feelings, my experience with the powerful vibes from this day.
In English, Fools.
Loving lovers.
Tumbling walls.
Mind in guage.
One small part of one world.
One truth.
Heavens, Mouse?
Yes, Love.
Life is
What you make it.
Turn around.
Let's back down.
I'm still young and out of the Navy.
The world is full of vibes.
This place hasn't really changed that much since...
It's still got me and the ghosts of younger mice tripping around,
looking for the Rev or the hell of it.
It was mainly hot or cold, no in betweens.
A plain-Jane town like Redding, from which we came to Sacto and then to Merced City.
I arrived at the SP depot on Old Highway 99.
Throwpie and the Rev had lived here there hole-in-the-wall lives in '61, three years after the Big STone, El Capitan, was legitimized, as I see it.
It was just a big rock in a place I heard of in a story I read in a book they gave us in fourth grade and I mispronounced the word, Yosemite, as "YO-sa-might."
I am a fast learner.
|
|
mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
|
|
|
Feb 11, 2014 - 02:46am PT
|
Nunya R. Fools, patron saint of paint dryin', sez,
don't act like a fool unless you want to, otay?
another dead drunk dame, she is, long ago in the wise age
|
|
mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
|
|
|
Feb 11, 2014 - 04:19am PT
|
Otay. Open your eyes.
Psychomedelic Journey/CD by QSM, nize stuv
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gpx5pM7Ck8o&list=ALBTKoXRg38BDrAnjEFKN5JT-HANiesDHG
mice stuve.
Ohio, no. Merced, yes.
The rain fell, I was not sleeping, did not hear it, tho.
I knew I should go and get on the roof. I climbed the fire escape and it was immediately apparent I was in a special presence.
WhetherGod.
He actually exists!
there can fbe no drought idf there be no doubtt
this is literal word-for-word lingo, a branch of norwegian dialectic he was spakin' 'neath his huge mustache--no beard, just the stache.
here is what he said
NUMBAH SIXTY-ONE
It's been so long...
I sure had fun, fine fun...
It's been too long...
Lover.
Hey, hey, hey, hey. (guitar riff)
Oh whoa, whoa, whoa yeah...
Lover.
TOOLONG!
My problem, sorry.
Open your eyes. Light all your windows. Golden sparks.
Just lies.
Old Sol.
That is a good Mex standard por cervezsa. the russki bears love to brew, BTW, or as they say in the Rube, "В Вт". It's the bearlink dialect, imowue, in that same lingo.
There is a secret under-ground-hog bearish conclave, not an elected body or soviet, made of cousins and Costco Mi-Whacks living in and near sebastopolitco off of the Redwood Parkway. They live like they are poor, but we think they have honey-money. Mo' later. as el DeeHAYTHERE gathers his "Park Narca Nationals" and raids Middle Earth.
Frequent Spy Achievement, next installation, soon, this pace, slowly turning at the top of Lower Yosemite Fall.
That is SOME drop. Pod, let's go the other way.
That leads us back to Ohio, Patty. You are getting too into your part, man. It is just we two. Speak the English, por favor.
No, it would be towards Ohai, old boy.
Ta-ta, I'm going to have some coffee, it's only 5.2+. or so it appears to me.
Ah, wait. I'm rather broke. My "Royaties" are in the mail, or so my Modesto agent tells me. Are your buying, sir?
Sorry, planned on scarfing a cup.
No sh#t. Surely.
You jest.
Shirley, anyway.
Well, of course it's my treat. I know Mr. Shirley. An old friend of Mouse in Merced. In fact, I know his nemesis, TBird, who has a lovely male voice, in my HUMBLE opinion. But then, I am right exactly 99.65% of the time. It's fun to treat. It makes me feel good, like good old cocoa, and you get to feel goo, tood. I wonder if there is more cocoa, Wisdom?
WE ARE THE FBI> SEND MONEY TO BAREASSBEARLIES.com ifyouwanta/BeyondWatch?HMFkit/BBC/moundhows
Cash, check, money order. Pay to GIRL SCOUT BAKING COOK-OFF, please.
Thank you.
The Ladder Day Bastion of Drivelity, Deviltry, and Civility Network.
LDBDDC&N.
I blame Harding.
And the Christian Brothers of ST. Mary's in Moraga, Dog on ya.
|
|
mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
|
|
|
Feb 11, 2014 - 05:55am PT
|
Pointlessly needling climbers does no earthly good, Blondie.
[Click to View YouTube Video]Ai, rubio! ¿Te estás divirtiendo todavía?
Whatever they are, they have a garden and a Bic pen and a green sucker in their lobby, the hydrant.
If I can't have her, don't want no one at all.
[Click to View YouTube Video]
My Angel on the Wing.
|
|
mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
|
|
|
Feb 11, 2014 - 06:18am PT
|
[Click to View YouTube Video]Nobody singa?
but Shelley the cleaning lady/poet is living there now. And she has TWO Uip-Uip dogs, vicious bastards. Don't mess with Shells.
Vibrations...heed'em.
We all need'em, good and bad and drooly.
|
|
mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
|
|
|
Feb 11, 2014 - 06:27am PT
|
All rock is best listened to at full volume.--Simple Simon[Click to View YouTube Video]Rock for all ages.
Embrace your love.
Never let go.
|
|
mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
|
|
|
Feb 11, 2014 - 06:38am PT
|
Look da fug out!
|
|
mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
|
|
|
Feb 11, 2014 - 07:26am PT
|
Mometase, Asmanex inhaler, one shot, twice a day.
Lisinopril, one tab daily for BP.
Hydrochlorothozide, Same.
Warfarin, 5 mg, one tab per day.
Digoxin (Lanoxin) one tab, .25 mg., daily.
Prednisone, steroid, one tab 2 x daily. With food.
Albuterol inhaler, 'as needed.'
Soon to come, CobiVent albuterol plus. 4 x daily.
And one half-tab of Simvastatin at bedtime.
And one kiss on the forehead, daily, if you can get it.
That's what OM talkin' about. Drugs.
Plus chondroitin, Tylenol, and lots of water and booze.
How can you lose?
Don't forget safety meetings...the benefits of expensive expectorants.
Strip costing erroddities, please.
It's a short ride on the bus.
One ticket, tround rip.
Hos for YosW
Adios, amigos.
Planada, here I pass thee by.
Just gotta cuz I can, still, Whymper.
You old dudes knew....
|
|
mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
|
|
|
Feb 12, 2014 - 11:17pm PT
|
For a Deer Friend Who Is Going to Die and GO TO HELL--at least according to some, for trying to make a decent living and to defend a way of life and death he loves and respects--and so I wrote this to poke fun at him and laugh and show how NOT a big deal all the blood shed in the name of "sports," with regard to "animal rightists" and "vurmints" in general, who overreact greatly and should just stfu and live and let live, so to speak; and it's not much but it's how I felt when I wrote it and I've pretty much felt like this my entire life
Oh, Dear Bambi,
What caliber of man it takes to take you, the Prince of the Forest.
A hungry one.
A thirsty one.
A bloodthirsty one.
A dead-eye.
A seeker of hide.
A real horn-dog.
One antler said to another, in a bar,
"Rack 'em, loser."
One who can call the coin toss proposition bet, "Heads or tails?"
Doug Bowman; Brett Archer; Eric Fletcher.
Amos Alonzo; Buck Meadows; L. Coe, (from Neev a Dah),
Or, Doh!, forgive me, ladies, which caliber of woman?!
Abby; Irene; Ima Sorry.
Faline--tails; Bambi's unnamed mother--Jane?
John, Valued Customer, Sir or Madam or Miss or Mister.
I hope you liked this little list here.
Skin the elk, dress the deer,
Take the horns, and have a beer.
You done good, TaxiDiver.
They're all looking at heads of the deer
And at the heads on their beers
At Miller's Reinero's on Main
Where drunks and dead deer
Never feel that much pain
They have Buckhorn and Moosehead
And Moosedrool and Gene said
Their taste runs similar to mine
I'm inviting those two
And inviting Ron, too,
To meet me at quarter to nine
I'll buy some rounds
Then you'll have your chance
We'll roll for the sounds
And glass eyeballs will dance
Lit by the light from the juke
We'll BS and laugh till we puke
--N. Tropy
|
|
mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
|
|
|
Feb 13, 2014 - 05:03am PT
|
[Click to View YouTube Video][Click to View YouTube Video]Sooo, here I am, sittin' in on the karasokee lessons in the poob.
Lots and lots of younkers about, none sober enough to mind an old fart squeeee...Squeeeezin' thru to the back room, but it's closed...
I go grab the glass of PBR for two, no blasted glass, o' course.
UNO, I sat next to the darling, Miss Valdez and her boyo, the artist who done my mug in Snelling this weekend.
I gave her a couple of picture postcards from Yosemite and gave her a pen. I requested another portrait, but this fizzled like a wet cake of incense in the rain, in a theological sense, but then God's no Irishman. He knows how to plan, whatever in the heck he claims to have on that side of his blanket, Mary notwithstanding, cuz she was only human.
Yes, my son, I was tossed from priest school and became a Yank.
So, if you'll forgive that lie, I'll tell ya the rest of the lie.
I found that this karlowsaki is just fine. Never been, never indulged, can't sing and don't dance much either, but it's fun. Or was.
Tonight is at the Party's On, a place I've frequently never gone into. I've gone into that before.
This karamba night is on Tuesdays, here in Merced, and no Cowboys were heard in THIS bar. And it used to be known as TRail's End. So it goes.
Decent numbers of rock and roll but one guy, a twenty-one year old (He said he was twenty-one and I I'd e-d him anyway, to his surprise) really, really, really impressed me with his selection, his aggressive style, his disdain for the screen, his disdain for the Queen (Anits, but mo' about her later) of the computer and Mikes, and his not wearing a clown outfit.
No, shiht, man, he was jammin' on Toad Hall Blues.
The Graham Greenejeans version is the only one I've heard that's better, you bet.
Who? G. Jeans. Oh, that guy.
And when he sat down, I heard someone call the name Andy. He sat RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME! I was standing there next to Rob at the Door. He was sweeping the floor.
I had cheap postcards. I had a pen. I approached and met his friend, Anderzej, or Andy, or Andrew, and his other friend, Scott, who was a junior, and both the others were senior, because they were twenty-one (I chekced, officer) but he bailed to the john.
I asked him point blank to take the pen and give me his autograph on the back, would he be so kind, and to politely address the idea that he scribe ideas for Big Mike, a cat from Big C, and for my buddy Lollie overseas? She's blonde and Northern Eurpopean and he's either six ten or six eleven, he's just a tall Canadian, that's all.
He did as I bid, with speed and grace, and much sell-efface, he suggested these hit for you two Taco twits and this is how this all perchanced.
I KNEW he was gonna pick Cinnamon Girl, from the get-go!!!
But he didn't know Bjork, and he went with the flow, so, you know...a typical stupid 21-yr old American, ready to graduate UCM, don't know squat about rock history.
WTF do they teach out there in Bobcat-country? Texting?
Really bad quaint foreign (non-American) accents?
[Click to View YouTube Video]
Edit: What does it take to get "Disturbing" from a critic? Thanks for the blurbs, Droolski.
|
|
mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
|
|
|
Feb 13, 2014 - 06:12am PT
|
Pink turned to sunshine. I dropped a hit, waited a bit,
stoked my head, pink turned to red, to blue, to grey again, and then I heard this angelic...
[Click to View YouTube Video]
choir, five of them.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cliff_Richard
THE WIKISHADOE KNOWS.
[Click to View YouTube Video]
Note any well-known cliff facts and get back to zBrown in the zONE, KCRS on your wrist-radio.[Click to View YouTube Video]
Even ledge to ledge, one bike to another.
Werner, HELP!!!!!
A-Otay, overnowt, mate.
Is this Werner?
Yah, mate. Werner Biju from Perth. We're on the Schnozzie.
I'm me. I need Werner Braun!
Quack! I'll get him. He's havin' a faster go at it than us. We're hauling Foster's on ice if ya can make it to Sickle.
F*#K YOU, YOUR ROO, and YOUR ROO's JOEYS! Are you stoned or just stupid?
Both, mate.
Argggn...We are f*#ked, rSin.
Doh't get me started, you...you...oooooooooooo! I could spit, but we ran out of water...two cups per day per mouse...you twitter-pated, non-planning zGit!
Now, don't go all "Disturbed" on me, or Moosie might could decide to try to sue. He's got bigger ears to the ground than we all know. He hears virtually everything, reads every single post on the Taco, and personally knows the guy who helps deliver and count the kegs for Yosemite Facelift. He's cooler than Old Bob. And all that "Secret Underground Burial Ground" stuff? It is true as our problem is critical.
Do you know the way down to Sickle from here?
No, but hum a bar or two, I might could remember.
Oh, please, try!
I think we can go by feel, but not by sight.
"Blind eyed tailless careless fearless
At evading traps you are peerless
I wish I might I wish I could
Get down to Sickle before that ice is history."
Amen, Mousie, amen, amen, amen.
Headlamps, WasserMoose.
[If I were not such a careful observer, I'd tell myself AND my followers on Twitter that that mouse is "Deliciously dangerous." But he's harmless and so forth...blag-blog...ineffectual for the most...but not hazardous to one's mental capacity. Still, though, I am a doctor. I prescribe at my own risk, but we've paid the insurance. I hope she has...]
|
|
mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
|
|
|
Feb 13, 2014 - 06:54am PT
|
[Click to View YouTube Video]
What's it all about here, Alfie?
It's a scene, dude.
I dig.
No, you are confusing groveling in the dirt with total f*#king life in the fast lane. Don't talk sh#t. Am I on belay yet, or not. It's been two minutes since we left the car.
Where is this going?
I know. I'm not confused. Just keep your cool, WastedOne.
The Toad'em Pole, II, 5.7 or 8 depending, awaits our caress.
|
|
mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
|
|
|
Feb 13, 2014 - 07:32am PT
|
DUCK SHOOT.
AT THE FISH's NEW BARREL OF FISH FISH HOUSE and OCEAN BOTTOM SEWING FLOOR>
FIRST PRIZE guaranteed TO ALL!
"Ask me how I can do that. Go ahead. Ask."--Russ T. Salmon, author of the titanic versus the big stone in norwegian
well, desert climbing will have to wait, or at lestst
until laughter/norwegian class, and then we'll all dance and cinge
Meanwhile, back on the upper Valley shuttle, last week, I mean while I was riding on the shuttle with Samb the DriverScriver in command and speiling his stories (Sam Iamb, Yager's landlady, has been in the Ditch for many a pitch, and claims fanTAstic claims, truths, lies, and glory for his personal Yosemite story.
He said "Writ them. Outwit them. Cheat death."
Wow. To the Ahwahnee, but not forthweth. The aura was kinds tie-dyed for some whiles. Relax and breathe smiles, the loop runs for miles.
And mile. But not for Miles, Davis.
Same Sam, told me about his parents and the way how they came to the Ditch. It was no elevator ride to the Top of the Mark.
Back when monkeys were just barely not our uncles, the fifties.
I have notes, photos, and memories. This may take a bit.
First, check this out. Seattle, yet. Go figure.
[Click to View YouTube Video]
Try to enjoy the facts of Chongo's selection as a self-taught guru.
Each of you is your own guru, Baba Ma'am Special. Like when you were told do no wrong, child, just cuz you can. Be weird about it.
Feel good about ywur self, child. Not better than some other one.
That's not selfish, children.
UNNATURAL SELECTION or how to spell unnamed ones
Mouse ses, "Quote: This is for all the silent good-deeders here and all over Dave's Planet--I don't want out of this space, just want a great place to make it to the next one. End quote."
They'll laugh as they watch us fall
The lucky don't care at all
No chance for fate, it's unnatural selection
I want the truth
I'm hungry for some unrest
I want to push this beyond a peaceful protest
I wanna speak in a language that they'll understand
Dedication to a new age
Is this the end of destruction and rampage?
Another chance to erase then repeat it again
Counter balance this commotion
We're not droplets in the ocean, ocean
They'll laugh as they watch us fall
The lucky don't care at all
No chance for fate, it's unnatural selection
I want the truth
No religion or mind virus
Is there a hope that the facts will ever find us?
Just make sure that your are looking out for number one
I'm hungry for an unrest
Let's push this beyond a peaceful protest
I wanna speak in a language that you will understand
Counter balance this commotion
We're not droplets in the ocean, ocean
They'll laugh as they watch us crawl
The lucky don't share at all
No hope for fate, it's a random chance selection
I want the truth
Try to ride out the storm
Whilst they'll make you believe
That they are the special ones
We have not been chosen
Injustice is the norm
You won't be the first
And you know you won't be the last
Counter balance this commotion
We're not droplets in the ocean, ocean
Ocean, ocean
They'll laugh as they watch us fall
And the lucky, they don't care at all
No chance for fate, it's unnatural selection
I want the truth, I want the truth
I want the truth, I want the truth
Songwriters
BELLAMY, MATTHEW JAMES
And listen to Ua2 at the end of that tape, Two. Please have a beautiful day...
at ChurchKey's Such Chancy Casino and Dog Grooming Parlor, Empire, CA.
As Sam told me to do, and as any experienced writer would agree is Practical Paradise Teaching, (PPT--do not confuse with PC, please, at your own risk) I wrote down just enough. He has lived in the Valley having been a Bay Areaite like me and lots others, but he was born, a-parently, to a guy from OK and another O.K. person, his mom, who is Mrs. to his pop, who lasted through the Great Depression, only to find himself as a hired hand at the Ahwahnee hotel's famously gone nine-holer. It was a golf course, not an outhouse.
No greens fees. Free caddying from the little Indian boys, I imagine, if they were up to it.
Later, things changed, as they always must.
But before they came to the Paradise of Practical Happiness, or Foresta, the mujer de la grupa, the Nature Girl, took chances with a savioury type naturally named BITSY SHOOTS, or Ginsbrew, or Some Thing. I did not have time to write it all down, so I wrote much of this up standing up in a strenuous musyogic position known as Widers Cramped, unlike Sambo's relaxed, almost unsafe polsssture, commonly called Driving the Duck.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gypsy_Boots
Bootzin's older brother, John, died of tuberculosis as a young man; this led to Bootzin's decision to grow his hair long and pursue healthful, natural living.
[Click to View YouTube Video]
|
|
mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
|
|
|
Feb 13, 2014 - 09:52am PT
|
At the karajoke assembly last night there was a gentleman named like the dude on the nickel postcard below.
This young man's a UCM student.
He knows what it is that he would love to do is to teach in a high cchool.
He's majoring in ge-OG-ra-fee (oh-ca-TEA-yo) and wants nothing more than a monthly/mostly good paycheck to pursue his dream of being a high school geography teacher.
I believe he'll be a geography teacher, but don't believe it will be in a high school. Few offer the course any longer, for it is taught at JC level--I aced it but I needed a study partner, (read grade whore rival who took you to school each day in his Datsun performance vehicle) as a science course, and I know a geo teacher from Merced College who taught several sections of the same course daily for years and year. Mrs. GPS was a Girl Scoutist, a rugged individualisette, who trucked ALL THE WAY into AFg in '93, then came to Merced to teach mice like me.
Go Mo Graphy.
|
|
mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
|
|
|
Feb 13, 2014 - 02:05pm PT
|
Take zBrown. Take Throwpie.
They're lookin' like Twin Falls, sentimental bastions...
[Click to View YouTube Video]
Not to be too crude or appear juvenile, it's not cool and I won't go there.
But my next-door neighbor on Olive used a term for my older brother's Johnnie Mathis albums. He called it "humpin' music."
Enjoy the video and the tune and the skinny-dip.
And please, if you are out on the hills north of town walking with yer lady, showin' her how to use that new bobcat call, and you come to the tank, and it's not too brownish-green, and ya strip down, and so on,
Use that propeller tactic in the pond...'nuf said.
|
|
|
SuperTopo on the Web
|
Let us know!