Mr Trail Safety Speaks!

Millions of Californians went to the Super Tuesday Primary polls. You just fell asleep reading that. Too bad. You would've been wide awake voting for the I-96 "Whole Foods Casino Initiative". I-96 completely redefines gaming here in California. Ratifies amendment to existing gaming compact between state and Free Range Wholistic Bands of the Wasichu Nation(s); amendment would permit tribe to operate 3,000 additional slot machines in each central location of Santa Monica, Brentwood, Montecito, Hillsborough and Marin—with other locations to be determined. Omits certain projects from scope of California Environmental Quality Act, except the part about second-hand bong smoke; amendment provides for Tribal Environmental Impact Report and intergovernmental procedure to address environmental impact. BYO yoga mat. Specifies where revenue paid by tribe pursuant to amendment deposited; amendment requires tribe to make $20,000,000 annual payment and pay percentage of revenue ge...

  That was then, this is now. I remembered I had an ice axe and hammer. They were at home. I also had crampons. They were in the car. It would've been nice to have them. I was front-pointing a 30' section on a 45-degree slope of hard-crusted, packed snow. In snowshoes. Welcome to my world, late Saturday afternoon, on the chilled north-east face of Mt Lowe. A Priori: The Back Story All this was far in the future when Big Snow finally arrived in the San Gabriels this week. I pulled my straight-outta-1978 Fischer metal-edged cross country skis from their dreamless sleep. What the hell—I pulled the '89 Black Diamond Espressos too. I had hopes on getting them cleaned and waxed, but that was a long shot. And the snowshoes came out too. I wanted to have a full choice for winter fun. CalTrans saw fit to close the Angeles Crest Highway right above the blanco-y-blanco village of La Piñata. Snow? Landslide? Accident? I wasn't about to wait for a re-opening, so I busted a U and ...

French President Nicholas Sarkozy has a hot girlfriend, Carla Bruni. Rumours are swirling that he's gonna marry her. Swirling! I'd say "Yo, Niko! Chill! Test drive on a road-trip before signing the lease, dig? OK, whatever. It's been 60 days. Here are my questions: Is France a community-property state? We do know that under the Napoleonic Code, you are guilty until proved innocent. If they get married, and then divorce, does she get half of France? Which half?

"In A Metal Mood" is one of the most hilarious practical jokes in the History of Röck. Boone managed to startle and outrage two highly conservative constituencies: Evangelicals and Heavy Metal. I doubt that Pat had that in mind at the outset. Consider the readings of "Crazy Train", "Panama" and "You've Got Another Thing Coming". By the technical virtuosity of the participants, and the smoothie-stylings of Mr Pat, the irreducible cheeziness of the originals are revealed. Some of the other tracks like "Stairway to Heaven" sink into primordial ooze and can be deleted from any playlist. Overall, an Essential Perverse Masterpiece.

After McCain's New Hampshire blowout, I had to ask myself about Rudy [cue music, flattering light]… How many times does 404 go into 911?

How many times have you wondered how things change from one state to the other? And how many of those times were you a kind and wondered where all that yummy Spam came from? This is the answer you 've been looking for. I recently rediscovered this obscure revision of the Periodic Table. Pork : elemental sign: PO. Atomic number: 50/50, Relative Atomic Mass: 120.69 Spam: elemental sign: Sp. Atomic number: u81-2, Relative Atomic Mass: 206.666 (note Satanic fractional number) Lead : elemental sign: Pb. Atomic number: 82, Relative Atomic Mass: 207.21 For years it had been conjectured that Spam® was in fact the missing-link isotope of pork. Scientists at D&L Industries Research Lab carefully monitored the projected use-path trajectory, considered its original source, and then followed it to its ultimate atomic conclusion—where it literally turned to Lead. It becomes even more relevant in This Here Holiday Season®™. Especially after the recent LA Times article describing the rel...

Consider the likelihood of the following narrative: A disturbed brother, one of three, who had built a thriving business in the 1920s. The weather business cycles, and become well-to-do. In later years their franchise is set upon by sharp-toothed rivals. They begin to weary of the struggle. But they cannot agree on a direction. There is a dinner at the local IHORG (International House of Rubber Gaskets) to iron things out. However, two of the brothers have made an alliance against the third. They've always been suspicious of his center part. Besides, he's busy doing the other brother's neglected wives. Moe gets the bad news as the house specialty, Gaskets Alfredo, is served. The brothers tell Moe that his future is really with the Hupmobile Auto-Victrola Gramaphone business. His help will not be required in the primary auto business. Really. At a pre-arranged signal from Manny; hairy-armed, burly, no-necked attendants burst into the dining room with nets and lightning sp...

Sunset Junction Street Fair, a Gathering of the Hipsters. A full on heat-fest and scrum within a 10' tall chain-link fence and wildly overpriced water and food for the newly-hungry once the sun went down. There were an astonishing number of really cute/hot women and yes, my little woodchucks, MILFs galore. In the midst of the swarm were also girls who looked like they stepped straight outta 1979. The hair, the curves, the clothes, the look in the eye, and none of them were older than 23. There's a cosmic mystery to ponder. Now we are waiting for Morris Day and the Time. Me and 10,000 of my new best friends. Directly in front of us is a swan-necked, alabaster brunette beauty. She has a completely non-generic profile, ringlets, a sensuous mouth. My brain is squirming like the proverbial toad. And she is with a troll who knows that He Is Going To Get Very Lucky, Soon. I begin to notice that her skin is disfigured with utterly generic tattoos. A skull and crossbones. "Califor...

Havana, 2018   Today is the 40th anniversary of the death of Che Guevara. Fidel Castro has always preferred dead heroes to living rivals, and Che was no exception. To frame it in American terms, imagine the following: Bill Clinton and Al Gore are comrades in arms, or W and Dick Cheney. You decide. In any event... Bill and Al have a colossal falling out over the direction of world revolution. Al leaves the country with other members of his staff and cabinet. He goes to a desperately poor English-speaking country to foment revolution as an outsider—against ALL the rules that had defined a guerilla struggle. Let's say that country is Belize. the local inhabitants view the Army as a menace, and the presence of the outsider to be an additional threat. When the Army comes and asks "where are the foreigners?" and the villagers point. Now two threats are removed. Al is at the end of his rope after 11 months, and has lost 100lbs. He can barely stand for his captors, and within 12 ...

While at work in Hollywood on Tuesday afternoon, a Ford Exploder hit a fire hydrant on Highland Ave, and gave the entire neighborhood a free diversion. Incidentally, neither Christ nor the Virgin Mary were spotted in the water column.

Barbarella is simultaneously a quaint artifact and and the edgy progenitor of the modern graphic novel. The iconography successfully incorporates elements of Jules Verne and the Nouvelle Vague in a retro science-fiction dreamscape. Many of the elements in the novel have been worked over ad infinitum—the leggy heroine who is a determined hedonista; but other classic ingredients of French erotic fiction are well used—court intrigue, betrayal, awkward situations, and the boundless capacity of humans to plunge blindly in pursuit of pleasure. I hadn't read "Barbarella" in over 35 years. It was interesting to see what I'd remembered, and find out what I didn't see back in my weedy youth. Good times all around!

"Your friends are definitely better than mine" This was the Voice Of Reason from Earl "The Rocket" Jones, as he admired my 24k bling'ed PIMP goblet . We were at the 3rd Outer Circle of the Western States 100 Finish Line, Sunday Morning Coming Down. The Firste Circle is the Ring Of White Chairs Inside The Barriers. The Seconde is The Laire of the White Nurse [being all double-bubbled and shit]. And the Thirde is round the outside, round the outside. Let's see. The main topic of conversation for all the WS Entrants was not about Hal or Nikki, it was whether Paris Hilton would be able to walk unassisted from jail after being on a reduced sperm-n-demerol regimen. Also, whether the Magenta Star Child would be able to commune with the Trail Faeries and git enuff water. But all this wilted from the mighty hear of the Krucible of the Kanyons. To everyone's Great Surprise, it was hot. Perhaps not hot enough to fry eggs on your visor, but close. There were a fair...

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...