Mr Trail Safety Speaks!

Guaranteed to ruin your weekend. What started it all: -----Original Message----- From: [redacted ] To: yetanother time suck_List Sent: Wed, 20 Jun 2007 8:22 am Subject: Chia seeds I recently read in a race report that some runners where trying chia seeds during their runs (yes, the "chia pet" seeds). They appearantly have incredible water absorbtion qualities and when eaten are supposed to buffer glycogen and electrolytes - and that supposedly helps keep you better hydrated and prevents energy dips and spikes. So - I decided to order some to check it out, and am curious if anyone on the list has tried it before. Have any tips? recipes? how do you actually use it during a run, do you eat the seeds raw or turn it into a gel? leading to: Begin forwarded message: From: mrtrailsafety Date: June 20, 2007 12:45:39 PM PDT To: Karl Cc: Subject: Fwd: Chia seeds Hi Bad Karl: I think you need to answer this lost soul: In honor of your Great Wisdom, I wanted to leech your brain, uh, a...

Straight outta 1965. And hunting season never closes on signs either.

Kurt Waldheim died this week at the ripe old age of 88. Just before he died he told his gathered family at the bedside that he regretted not being invited to the White House, where he could give Dick Cheney Hermann Goering's Reich Marshal's uniform.

This morning (being Saturday, May 26, '07) I awoke to a large spatula, gently peeling me up from my bed, and turning me over. I was pounded flatter than hammered dog shit. I didn’t feel this way yesterday before I started my planned overnight fast-packing/camping trip. The original goal was go into the Middle Range of the San Gabriels, spend the night at West Fork, and then come back over via the Rattlesnake Trail back into Chantry Flats. The insertion went well. Sweating like a pig, no biggie, normal. Up and over Newcomb’s Pass, east to Newcomb’s Saddle, and then down the Rincon-Red Box Road to where the road crossed the West Fork of the San Gabriel River. I had the whole place all to myself. At the road/stream crossing, I turned south up the streambed and began to follow it up to the DeVore Campground. Rockhopping up the stream-bed was very straightforward, as the water levels have dropped precipitously in the last two months—almost a foot if not more, leaving fresh boggy mud-...

Late Saturday night I knew. I’d caught a whiff of my special self. I had scored big on the "Smells Like Ass" Sweepstakes. All I had to do was get back to the trailhead and claim my prize. I'd taken a three-day fastpacking trip into the West Fork of the San Gabriels. The itinerary was to camp out for 2 nights in the Middle Range, all before the bugs woke up and hopefully before the Forest burned down in this epic dry year. GOOD FRIDAY I left Chantry Flats Friday mid-morning under a blue-white overcast marine layer. I was above the overcast in less than 4 miles, but it’s persistence into the early afternoon was noteworthy. After a desultory check-in with Chris at Camp Sturtevant, I’d exhausted my supply of lies and falsehoods. I then made for Newcomb’s Pass and Saddle, into the crystal bright. From there, it was a hard left turn down into the West Fork Campground, which was completely empty. Rinse off, build a fire, eat dinner, watch Caveman TV, fall asleep. Life...

I took this photo at the 2002 Doo-Dah Parade in Pasadena, CA. The more I've looked at it the more it reveals. The rollerskating amputee, the seemingly complacent "US Marshal", Vampira in her teddy, and the ever-present media. The underlying ironies and drama of the ensemble have only grown in retrospect.

Fox Broadcasting announced today that they were going to restage "Porgy and Bess". Porgy will be played by Bill O'Reilly, Ann Coulter would be Bess, and Sportin' Life would be played by Rush Limbaugh. Fox spokesman said that this was part of continuing network efforts to make "black culture safe for white people."

  A few years later but in the ballpark. Overheard on the MTA Blue Line, March 13, 2007: "bash poon" or words to that effect. A brief field report, by Bungles, the valet Northbound, from the 105. Two lo-rent playas , a ghetto "Jay and Silent Bob" if you will. Both were in their early 20's at best. "Jay" was dressed in a flat-billed black & white MLB baseball cap, white oversized t-shirt, black pants of the de rigeur urban baggy. "Silent Bob" was likewise in black baggy trousers, but sporting a multi-colored hoody in a rich, variegated pattern of fiscal abundance—stylistically modifed icons of US currency in the $100 mode, casino chips and so on. The object of "Jay's" fascination was his new iPod Nano. So many thumpin' grooves, such a tiny little beatch . The loquacious "Jay", was describing to his reticent associate "Silent Bob" in detail an intimate encounter; by which a young adolescent girl was lu...

Do you enjoy trainwrecks like this as much as I do? Read on. =========================== MY FAITH IN GAWD IS RENEWED BY NEWS LIKE THIS. from the LA Times. God's word, plus static, on Calvary Satellite Network Amid accusations over sex, money and control, Pastor Chuck Smith is about to surrender much of the evangelical radio empire to a man he calls morally unfit for ministry ============================= THE SET-UP WHEN Chuck Smith, founder of the worldwide Calvary Chapel movement, decided to invest big in radio, the Orange County evangelist joined forces with a pastor he trusted. Mike Kestler was one of his proteges, a folksy preacher with a ponytail who had ridden the Calvary phenomenon to a pulpit in Twin Falls, Idaho. Smith had presided at Kestler's wedding. He'd helped Kestler keep his job after a churchgoer complained that Kestler had begged her to run away with him. Now, the pastors would be business partners. Kestler knew how to run a radio station. Smith had...

Since We're All Supposed to Give Up Something for Lent®™, let's start with Critical Thinking. Gawd revealed it to me: Jesus' Original Lunchbox. Read the full details here.   The Wiki Quoteth: The Lost Tomb of Jesus is a docudrama co-produced and first broadcast on the Discovery Channel and Vision TV in Canada on March 4, 2007, covering the discovery of the Talpiot Tomb . It was directed by Canadian documentary and film maker Simcha Jacobovici and produced by Felix Golubev and Ric Esther Bienstock , while James Cameron served as executive producer (Jacobovici and Cameron had previously created The Exodus Decoded ). The film was released in conjunction with a book about the same subject, The Jesus Family Tomb , issued in late February 2007 and co-authored by Jacobovici and Charles R. Pellegrino . The documentary and the book's claims have been rejected by the overwhelming majority of leading experts within the archaeological and theological fields, as well as am...

  Far-flung Suburbs Want Good Life Too   AVEC LES COMMENTS D'IL SAVANT LE BUCKY KIBBLE   http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-upscale20feb20,1,6820367.story?coll=la-headlines-california  Most weeknights after 5 p.m., a line of patrons snakes around the Olive Garden restaurant in Palmdale, where hungry diners face an hourlong wait. The story is the same at the El Torito next door and the Red Lobster up the street, where the wait on Friday and Saturday can last two hours.  PRE-LOAD WITH A JUMBO BURRITO, BYO MATCHES  Just about every sit-down eatery in the west Antelope Valley has a line at the dinner hour because there are not enough sit-down restaurants to meet demand in the fast-growing region.   WIDENING COMES TO MIND TOO. "I don't even consider it anymore," said a frustrated Barbara Lods, 43, a marketing representative from Lancaster. In the newly minted subdivisions and gated communities on the fringes of Southern California, residents expr...

TORN FROM TODAY'S HEADLINES http://www.latimes.com/news/printedition/asection/la-na-briefs10.1feb10,1,6310080.story NATION IN BRIEF / HAWAII Squirrel on a plane diverts flight From Times Wire Reports February 10, 2007 American Airlines diverted a Tokyo-to-Dallas flight, landing the airplane in Honolulu because the pilots found a squirrel in the cockpit. "HEH-HEH-HEH! GIVE ME THE JOYSTICK, YOU FUCKERS!" Flight 176, a Boeing Co. 777 with 202 passengers aboard, arrived in Honolulu at 5:27 a.m. local time after the flight crew heard a noise in an overhead bin, LOUD MUSIC, OE40's ROLLING AROUND, AND POWERBARS IN THE SHAPE OF FUNNY LITTLE ANIMALS found the squirrel WHO TOLD THE CREW: "I GOT MINE, NOW FUCK OFF!... AND GET YOUR OWN! -HEH-HEH-HEH!" and decided to land at the nearest airport, a spokesman "CARL" for American said. It was standard procedure, he said, WHILE KNEADING A BLOCK OF SEMTEX INTO A RODENTESQUE SCULPTURE and based on concern that a sq...

After many years of sitting in movie theatres watching various Hollywood leavings, I've formulated The Three Laws Of Cinematic Science Fiction: 1] Primary action takes place primarily at night. Science fiction in raw daylight is a washed-out proposition. 2] The story line is usually dependent on heavy First-World technology. Too bad it looks completely dated 10 minutes after theatrical release. 3] Protagonists and problem solving methodologies are mostly white, who have great teeth and shiny hair. People of any color besides white, and who live outside the 310 area code are vastly under-represented in the sci-fi canon. By contrast, Marin County is mysteriously over-represented. Oh hell! Its more fun to shoot in Marin than Indio, or SW Nebraska.

Behold the Majestick Synergies and Synchronicities of Gawd's Holiday Majestie®™ ! For all of you soldiers in the War On Xmas, this is for you. I was given these gifts by 2 different people, separated by Time and Space, opposite sides of the country...the whole shootin' match. Note the fine detailing on each piece; the subtle lettering on the left [given by Annie G, from NH], and the graceful thumb-stops on the right [received as a White Elephant Gift at my work party in LA]. This image is your next office screensaver.

Seeing as I desperately needed it, and knowing this for several months prior, I took a fast-pack overnite camping trip out of Chantry to West Fork CG. The route is Chantry--->Mt Wilson-->Kenyon Devore Trail to West Fork. Started late around 11am. Made top of Mt W in leisurely time by 130-2pm. Saw a few day hikers primarily on the south-faces. Once over the top of the Mt Wilson parking lot, nada. Dropped down K-D Trail [empty] for 3 mi. Right turn to West Fork CG, made it sometime just before 4pm. Nobody was there. Saw that fires were OK there, and got to thinking. Gathered wood, got out my magnesium fire-starting bar that I've carried for years and decided to use it. Shaved some off the bar w/ my knife onto tinder. Not quite. Reshaved several grams into a cupped leaf, added teeny micro twigs. Struck as spark from the spark bar on the other side--whoosh! fire!! Did the log-cabin layup with incrementally larger kindling, happy-happy fire. Made dinner in the gathering night. Wa...

As Americans went to the polls today, they decided any number of important issues. Here in Los Angeles, known affectionately as the Great Satan, and a known writer's retreat for visiting ecclesiastic dignitaries, I too voted. I voted for: THE SUPERMODEL HABITAT RESTORATION ACT OF 2006- This would restore thousands of square somethings so that supermodels could visit day-spas and low-fizz water bars untrammelled by reality. Funding to come from retail sales of OxyContin and free-range sulfur. I voted against: THE RUSH LIMBAUGH ENCINO VENENOSA EXPERIMENTAL FOREST PRESERVE- Which would have set aside at least 50,000 acres of pristine near-vertical wild-lands to nurture the most pervasive Southern California flora, but somehow tragically misunderstood. Estimated costs: $50b. Would exceed previously earmarked funds from sales of OxyContin and Viagra, along with off-shore Dominican Republic Hedge and shrub funds.

September 2006, Myra Ave north of Santa Monica Blvd, here in Silver Lake.

Father’s Day dawned with not a clue of what was to transpire. The Original Plan was to drive up into the mountains, and extract a meaningful run from the trails. And thus I would honor the Billions of Unborn that had sprung from my loins into the aether. However, Fate intervened. CalTrans had closed Highway 2 just above the sleeping and complacent exurb of La Pinata. A blinking sign notified the hordes of suicidal rice-rocketeers that there was a brush fire in progress, so kindly go elsewhere. But as not to discriminate, this aviso was extended to the general public as well. I put the Squirrel into a 180-drift, and lost only one of the 40” spinnies I’d put on last week, and continued down to the Windsor/Arroyo parking lot. I wedged in amongst all the agitated Velo-Bobs, and began my Final Preparations. And so were they, anticipating a crankin’ drive up to Mt Wilson-Phillips, and then to hurl themselves off the top from Red Box, and like be ragin’and shit down through Switzer’s Camp, ...

Last week I decided I'd heard enough from the Rat RaceTrack above my head. Too much frolicking and fun at the expense of a night's sleep. It was unlikely that in the New Regime, the new owners were likely to call Western Exterminator anytime soon. It was time to take action. After work I went to Anawalt Hardware, and followed the well-beaten path to the Rat Department. Hoisting myself up out of the groove in the concrete, I studied my options. I was amused at the array of rat devices on sale. There were various kinds of rat-traps, rat poisons, rat catch-devices, rat condos, and rat sonic annoyers that you can plug into the wall sockets. Before I made my final choice, I had to check them out. One was a metal tubular tunnel that presumed Mr or Mrs Dim Rat was going to stroll in, and then stay in, while a light went off outside. You could then take the tunnel, and humanely turn the affected rodent loose somewhere else, probably after making it promise to sin no more. A simpler...

It all seemed so klar, Herr Komissar. Sitting under Dwarf Bo Tree in the famed Corral Canyon parking lot under the late noonday sun, the shade was just enough to lower my core temperature down to brown dwarf levels. From there it was just the canonical 4.2 miles back to the Squirrel, a partial afternoon of temporized frolic in the Santa Monicas. But that was yet to come. Earlier that morning, I was a mere portent of a Jung Mandala. I was heading up the Pacific Coast Highway, where coastal fog gripped Malibu like Aimee Mann's implacably hostile indifferent lyrics. Once up Latigo Canyon, all was a crystalline harshness that promised a fine hot day. So much for the love of a blonde. Sunday was the Season's First Hot Training Run of the Rest Of Your Life. We've all been here before, and every year it gets flushed away. Hence, the joy of rediscovery. If gamma rays are subatomic iron molecules boring holes in your corpus delicti, then photons are their dilettante cousins, leaving...