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Showing posts from August, 1998

Princess Diana: A Tribute

Well, its been a year now. Time enough for all those cyber-tributes and all. But one more poem needed to be written. So the Muse wafted over Mr Trail Safety, and these lines were thusly channelled.

Diana: A Tribute

How did I Come,
Into the Light?
The car veered left,
But I went right.

I'd made the scene,
All dressed to nines,
Then got all worked up,
over old land mines.

Looking down,
From my celestial state,
Gee I look good!
As dolls and plates!

When once I lived,
They said I sinned,
Now I'm just a candle,
In the Wind.

Bone Regardez, Mr Trail Safety

Tara And Ethyl Cop Altitude: Part III

Tara And Ethyl Cop Altitude [Part III: The Final Struggle]

The following is the Oleaginous Intro by a Patronizing EuroAmerican. He is seated in an overstuffed wingchair on a set decorated to look like an Auld Englishe Country House. He of course drives a Country Squatter Towne & Country [specific town and country available on request] provided by the sponsor.

His hands are steepled, and he smirks slightly as he faces the audience. He puts away his racing form as the red light comes on. Take my word for it, because this is radio.

"When we last left Tara and Ethyl, they had completed Parts I & II of Copping Altitude. Let's now join our hapless duo as they undertake Part III: The Final Struggle..." The parts of Byron and "Giftshop Turquoise" were faithfully portrayed by Byron and Ms Leslie, in that order.

DAY 1, MILEAGE MINORA: "The 38-Special"

Ethyl, Tara and Byron are driving the warp-speed-capable Chevy Oxnard. It has two hamsters under the hood.…

Tara And Ethyl Cop Altitude: Parts I & II

Image
Tara And Ethyl, somewhere between Cascade and Brighton.

A Wasatch Fugue In 3 Parts. [In which this being Parts I & II]

PART THE FIRST: Getting There Is Most Of The Fun.

Ethyl's Gomermobile pulled up to Tara's work. Ethyl was feeling pretty good. The airport was close, everything was styling. Tara is a-bustle and now's set to go.

"So Ethyl...when's the flight?" he asked brightly.
"Gee Tara, lemme look!"

"Happy Faces" turned to "OhShit" real quick, when our two Nimrods discovered that the plane took off in 10 minutes and they were still in the People's Republic of Santa Monica. Exit to the smell of burning rubber.

Somewhat later, it's dark outside the plane. And it stays dark until dawn, when Gawd Turns On The Lights. Morning has broken, and it's time for 29 fun miles. One after the other. And so our two hapless runners play CMFM up over Scott's Peak to Brighton. In Brighton they each have a Pepsi, just like on TV. T…

Unlikely Origins of Mr Trail Safety

This is a story that is shrouded in the mists of time.

It goes back to the daze when UltraRunning As We Know It Today®™ was a bold, virile, and three-legged golem, which upon several Lucky Stars Mr Happy barked with a mighty one-eyed roar. This Golem had hair on the palms, was shaggy in the butt, broke wind whilst running unto the four corners of the world, and it saw that it was good. And it paused not in its pursuits for Gu nor PowerBars, shaped as they were into funny little animals

That was before the Standardizers, the Leg-Lifters, The Steatopygic Savages bearing Ski Poles sought to cast nets and lassoes, snares and traps, satchels and paiges over this flared-nostrilled, freedom-loving snaggle-toothed Wild Mustang that it was. The Givers Of Bad Advice, the Low-Mileage Pundits, The Bladder-Blatherers and the Salt Co-Religionists were gathering and making flapping noises. It seemed like only day before yesterday.

Into this roiling pond of mediocrity strides a figure that would sooner …