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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Jul 29, 2014 - 02:02pm PT
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IAMBIC ROCK
I am a rockin’ poet
And all the blue states know it.
I am an island.
I don’t feel your pain.
I’ll say it again.
I don’t feel your pain.
I am Bic government.
I burn hot and cold.
I am what Iamb and the others be damned.
I have what I want.
I took it from others.
Then from their mothers
And uncles, aunts and dads.
It’s my rhyme scheme,
My meme scheme,
To take from them
Before they take from me, me, me...
I am defending the homeland
Our domestic domeland
From gormless gropers
Homo dopers
And backsliding ropers
Like some god
But it’s a myth.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Jul 29, 2014 - 02:18pm PT
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Jul 29, 2014 - 02:25pm PT
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Uploaded on Mar 19, 2011
[Click to View YouTube Video]
OR, you can theaterize, play the bon vivant, act cool, etc. on YT.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EeaCZYwfimA&list=PLC419F9801081B858
One Penny Opera, First Act
There's No Theory Like Microwave Theory
It started with Maxwell or maybe Coulomb
Experiments that opened up the way,
And then there was Oerstad, of course, Heinrich Hertz,
Marconi, and Michael Faraday.
So as we gather in Long Beach today.
We honor those who pioneering the way,
There's no theory like Microwave Theory,
A great theory to know.
Everything about revealing
On the scope for all your words to see
In the you get that happy feeling
When you are seeing, one more dee Bee ...
Just sayin', the Taco needs flushing once in a while, but it's up to us to keep our heads and our noses out of the shht.
Not wanting a Great Society, just one that is a solid 5.7, maybe.
5.7X, but just about mediocre, see?
It's good enough for a buncha old dirtbags, flirtbags, hang-hags, and lurking mental cases.
Enjoy the culture. It's free of chlamidia, at least...
Bone us feature.
Kluisbergen 1946 Mont de l'Enclus--La Bonne Auberge--Paul Castaing Films
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ukRgug6FDDk
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ukRgug6FDDk
See it twice, WTF.
Once for manana, once just for aujourd'hui.
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zBrown
Ice climber
Brujň de la Playa
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Jul 29, 2014 - 02:56pm PT
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Jul 29, 2014 - 02:59pm PT
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Aha! A black and white eye![Click to View YouTube Video]That smarts, Ed! Ouch-ouch-ouch!
Flames rules, such as they aren't.Stayin' cool is a big no-brainer, cuz it's 96 outside and heading for 102. The cumulos are getting nimby today up over the smoky layer.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Jul 29, 2014 - 10:30pm PT
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neebee is another card-sharp grandmom, like my Nana.Deal 'em, Maverick!
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Jul 30, 2014 - 09:38am PT
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El Portal is spared yet one more time.
Bullet-dodging is the community pastime up there, lately.
CHICKENSKINNER!
I want to take the opportunity, while thinking of El Patrol, to thank Ken Yager from my heart for the time he has taken from his life to baby along the Yosemite Facelift. He will be leaving it to others in order to be more of a member of his family's life, which is only how it should be.
You can take a look at his FB page to see what Chickenskinner's plans might involve.
Best of luck to you with your last Facelift operation, and I hope we can get the same quality leadership in the future, Ken.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Jul 30, 2014 - 12:33pm PT
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An Off-the-Wall Essay on Existence and Folly of Belief in Deities
Prompted by donini's humanism.
Everyone gets a chance to play God.
If you feel any empathy for fellow beings on this plane, you might forbear from killing them. You can be Buddhist if you want. But this empathetic response is self-serving in that it is for the purpose of escaping from this cycle, moving on to another. It has no basis in love for that creature whom you have spared, be it bacteria or roach or trophy chimpanzee or brother-man.
The role of destroyer and the role of creator are assigned to different deities in the varied religious sects of Hinduism. We are killed by human beings in war, however, put out of existence, destroyed not by a mythic being. Likewise, we are created by the conjoining of two different units, both human and, again, not mythic. Any animal is created by the same method, namely some sort of sexual or asexual act. Any plant or other living creature can claim the same for their race.
The phrase “to play God” is better termed “to BE God” when the two polar acts, destruction and creation, are being discussed, it seems to me.
We have no need for God, thus. He is walking among us dressed as the killer virus. He may come in the night and invade your home with his droogs. “He certainly looked like a nice young man, that Malcolm.”
He might be yourself, forgetting to tie in and taking the big fall, or not paying attention to your belay.
But the fact remains, and this is the sticky point, YOU cannot create your own physical self, your being is not capable of doing something if you yourself are not around yet to do so.
I won’t elaborate more. These are just thoughts I had while thinking about shaving this morning.
I’m not cutting my beard yet.
My future beyond my death is still on the table.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pascal's_Wager
Have a nice day.
Mouse from Merced
p.s.: donini, thanks for the mental excursion into myself.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Jul 31, 2014 - 01:10am PT
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Jul 31, 2014 - 05:54am PT
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It's summer, and the travel bug has bitten many of us. I had it bad today, so I went to the county library for inspiration.
I've had enough of Poland, for now: and Corsica is taken by Gypsy.
I am working at present on yet another travelogue about Merced, Gateway to "America's NP". I'd so like to forestall that...so please help us out here. Variety is the spice here. I get mired in Americed and the old Central Hotel here is nice, but it's not the center of a dang thing.
As much as we Americans poke fun at Scandinavians, Canadians and Wyde Boyz, the French are still viable targets for our jovial 'sneers.' (All in fun, neebee...and Joyeux anniversaire!
They have a great Alpine chain running through their country, of course. It encompasses, however, the Massif Central: as I understand, it is a hodge-podge of volcanic choss, which means little steep climbing, but an abundance of more gentle terrain and some really great grape-growing real estate.
And it's huge.http://www.therocksremain.org/2013/08/geological-road-trip-volcanic.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Puy_de_Sancy
These are merely two samples of the real variety of the region.
It might be that some of you have experienced this area. Please share if you have.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Jul 31, 2014 - 12:02pm PT
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A Splendid Trip On Which To Report: On the Road Again.
GlobalEyes, his spouse Narsissuise, and his bachelor brother-in-law Lemme, are en vancances, as she puts it: they are determined to get “cultured” and to find Pleasure Domes in the WildWood.
They pull up to their host’s little “retreat.”
G.E., reluctantly, goes along with his wife’s “showphistication.” His gilded time away from the grind is to be spent, apparently, in a blaze of snobbishness, boredom, and squandered credit, since he couldn’t have left home without it. He is, of course, footing the bill for Lemme, too.
There is no real “pleasure” at Merry Hall, just as the idea of such never penetrates his home life and real comfort is Hardly Visible. He is desperate to enjoy that which he cannot.
The landscape he travels is a fair reflection of his mundane existence. He tries penning a postcard to his friend MossFossil.
“The scenery here unfolded as I drove. Lemme commented that it was certainly ‘something else.’ He ought to, he’s seen the inside of enough cells to appreciate it. First we passed a few pines. They had some fuzz on them. There were sure a lot of them. Then there were several large piles of rocks, mostly red, some yellow, a few that were gray. Then we came to some more pines. And yellow mud. Many pools of it. The pools were surrounded by these pines and the pines all had fuzz on them. And after a while we came to some more pine trees with more fuzz and then we got to see some more pools of yellow mud. 'Baby,' I said, ‘Have you ever seen more yellow mud outside of your dressing table?’ We stopped, had lunch, then drove back the way we came. It was later in the day, so it was much different. The sun was in my eyes, so I couldn’t tell you exactly what it was we saw. It was pretty fuzzy. You guys should come check it out for yourselves.”
By the time he finishes the postcard, it’s time to go to dinner. They dress up and go to the WasteLand, a four-star literary-themed bistro a mile or so from Merry Hall. It’s run by a guy named Elliot and the cook is a foreign devil named T.S. Faux-Gnome. They serve mostly berries and cream dishes for dessert. They have Blueberry Crumble (no photos of such are available) after a delicious planked grunion prepared a la francaise, which means that it is tiny as hell, but raised wild and served surrounded by orange peel and an olive, lemon on request, and a dab of mayonnaise that reminds him of yellow mud.
The crew arrives back at Merry Hall and G.E. adds a P.S. to the postcard, though there’s just barely room.
“P.S.--The ride home was spectacular in the moonlight. I mean the ride back to Merry Hall. We saw a deer in the headlights. It missed us, though. I’m real glad of that because it looked kinda like your sister’s face when we walked in on her and what’s-his-face, the guy that looks like Lungo. Can you believe that?”
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Jul 31, 2014 - 12:10pm PT
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Eureka!
As fate would have it, This Just In might wish it, and we have Bluelens to thank. That's twice inside seven months I get to lay thanks at yer feet, lady. Thanks and thanks some more!
"Bone apetite."
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Jul 31, 2014 - 12:41pm PT
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And arriving back home, refreshed and rejuvenated, the grind doesn't seem so bad at all, except for the pets have got a bit nervous.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Jul 31, 2014 - 12:48pm PT
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A doo. I need a nap.
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zBrown
Ice climber
Brujň de la Playa
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Nothing like a bad character review from Sonny Barger. Were any of these folks in on the 1977 plane crash?
[Click to View YouTube Video]
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neebee
Social climber
calif/texas
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hey there say, mouse... just stopped in to say 'hey there'...
:)
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zBrown
Ice climber
Brujň de la Playa
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Bob Dylan said meeting George changed his life. In Dylan's book The Chronicles: Volume One, Dylan recounts a story of meeting Gorgeous George in person. He wrote, "He winked and seemed to mouth the phrase, `You're making it come alive.' I never forgot it. It was all the recognition and encouragement I would need for years."
http://www.heydullblog.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/01/a4161e42.jpg
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Bob tells us in Buckets of Rain (how ironic, eh?)
I been meek, and hard like an oak
I seen pretty people disappear like smoke
Friends will arrive, friends will disappear
If you want me, honey baby
I'll be here
And then, in Idiot Wind he sings/croaks:
I ran into the fortune-teller who said beware of lightning that might strike
I haven't known peace and quiet for so long I can't remember what it's like
There's a lone soldier on the cross smoke pouring out of a boxcar door
You didn't know it you didn't think it could be done in the final end he won the wars
After losing every battle.
And then, in Mr. Tambourine Man, it gets heavy, like the smoke pall over the Ditch today.
Then take me disappearin' through the smoke rings of my mind,
Down the foggy ruins of time, far past the frozen leaves,
The haunted, frightened trees, out to the windy beach,
Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow.
For the show-stopper there is his Sad Dyed Lady of the Lowlands:
With your mercury mouth in the missionary times
And your eyes like smoke and your prayers like rhymes
And your silver cross, and your voice like chimes
Oh, who do they think could bury you ?
It’s all in how you roll.
[Click to View YouTube Video]
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