pope

Did y'all want some more? OK, here's some more: Hey Punk, where you goin' with that flower in your hand? Hey Punk, where you goin' with that flower in your hand? Well, I'm goin' up to Frisco to join a psychedelic band. I'm goin' up to Frisco to join a psychedelic band. Hey Punk, where you goin' with that button on your shirt? Hey Punk, where you goin' with that button on your shirt? I'm goin' to the love-in to sit & play my bongos in the dirt. Yes, I'm goin' to the love-in to sit & play my bongos in the dirt. Hey Punk, where you goin' with that hair on your head? Hey Punk, where you goin' with that hair on your head? I'm goin' to the dance to get some action, then I'm goin' home to bed. I'm goin' to the dance to get some action, then I'm goin' home to bed. Hey Punk, where you goin' with those beads around your neck? Hey Punk, where you goin' with those beads around your neck? I'm goin' to the shrink so he can help me be a nervous wreck... (Just at this moment, the 2700 microgram dose of STP ingested by FLOWER PUNK shortly before the song began TAKES EFFECT: before your very ears his head blows up... leaving a bizarre audial residue all over your teen-age record player!) Hey Punk! Hey Punk! Hey Punk! Punky! Punk! Hey Punk! Punky! Come and go...come and go... Polly, do I ever have a lot of soul? I think I love you! Questi dominga? Have you seen that nose eating? I wanna know for sure! Leave my nose alone please! What 're you trying to do? Listen! ... This is one of the most exciting things that's ever happened to me You know, every time I think about how lucky I am to be in the rock & roll industry It's SO exciting You know, when I first got into the rock & roll business I could barely even play the changes to this song on my, on my guitar But now I'm very professional I can play the guitar I can strum it rhythmically I can sing along with my guitar as I strum I can strum, sing, dance, I can make merry fun all over the stage And you know, it's so wonderful to... It's wonderful to feel that I'm doing something for the kids Because I know that the kids and their music are where it's at The youth of America today is so wonderful And I'm proud to be a part of this gigantic mass deception I hope she sees me thrilling, yes... I hope she sees me dancing and thrilling I will say: "Hello Dolly!" Is the song over? Boy, this is really exciting, making a rock & roll record I can't even wait until our record comes out and teen-agers start to buy it We'll all be rich and famous! And when my royalty check comes I think I'm going to buy a Mustang No, I think I'll...I think I'll get a Corvette No, I think I'll get a Harley Davidson No, I don't think I'll buy any of those cars I think what I will do is I will buy both No, I don't do that either I think, ah, I'll go into real estate I think I'd like to... I think I'd like to buy a house in ... Boulevard No, that wouldn't do any good Gee, I wonder if they can see me up here, twirling that tambourine and dancing... Maybe after the show One of the girls who sees me up here, singing and thrilling my tambourine and dancing, will like me And she will come over to me And I will walk I will walk up to her and I will smile at her And I will impress her and I will say: "Hello, baby, What's a girl like you doing in a place like this? I'm from a rock & roll band, I think we should..." Is the song over?

Franky says: What's there to live for? Who needs the peace corps? Think I'll just DROP OUT I'll go to Frisco Buy a wig & sleep On Owsley's floor Walked past the wig store Danced at the Fillmore I'm completely stoned I'm hippy & I'm trippy I'm a gypsy on my own I'll stay a week & get the crabs & Take a bus back home I'm really just a phony But forgive me 'Cause I'm stoned Every town must have a place Where phony hippies meet Psychedelic dungeons Popping up every street GO TO SAN FRANCISCO How I love ya, How I love ya How I love ya, How I love ya Frisco! How I love ya, How I love ya How I love ya, How I love ya Oh, my hair is getting good in the back! Every town must have a place Where phony hippies meet Psychedelic dungeons Popping up on every street GO TO SAN FRANCISCO... Hotcha! First I'll buy some beads And then perhaps a leather band To go around my head Some feathers and bells And a book of Indian lure I will ask the Chamber Of Commerce How to get to Height Street And smoke an awful lot of dope I will wander around barefoot I will have a psychedelic gleam in my eye at all times I will love everyone I will love the police as they kick the shit out of me on the street I will sleep... I will, I will go to a house That's, that's what I will do I will go to a house Where there's a rock roll band 'Cause the groups all live together And I will join a rock & roll band I will be their road manager And I will stay there with them And I will get the crabs But I won't care

Almost forgot to mention some of the unusual hazards of this trip. Got in big trouble with the wife when I returned with my new alpine hat.

Range Southern Cascades Mountain Spire Rock, West Pillar Route Crisco Slab Difficulty Grade I, 5.10 Descent South Face, via 5.9 finger crack Time 30 laps in 30 minutes (car to car) Conditions Except for a bit of humidity, this route is in excellent shape, with minimal broken glass visible and no pee/vomit aroma in the West Pillar notch. Other parties There were no climbers anywhere on Spire this afternoon. There was, however, a photographer, his assistant, and an attractive girl who provided a subject for the photographer. The photographer did not seem at all concerned that I was climbing ropeless over his head as I repeatedly descended the finger crack. Pope: I probably won't fall on you. Photographer: That's reassuring. Attractive Model (posing just around the corner in the West Pillar chimney): He's climbing above you? All I can really see of him is his butt. Photographer: You should just look at the little bird above my camera. Not wanting to distract the artist and his subject, I climbed several laps on Crisco Slab. Upon returning to the finger crack, I noticed the photographer had his back turned to the wall while the young model adjusted her wardrobe. From her position on the ledge above the overhang, articles of clothing including a provocative pair of boots were flung to the pea gravel below. I couldn't see her from my position on the pillar, and I can only speculate about what REALLY happened next in the photo shoot, but my imagination began to get the best of me. The whole scene was entirely too distracting, and I called it quits after thirty laps.

Boy, that would be a difficult spot for a bivy. I'd be wide awake thinking about how I was just one rope length and a short drive away from opening a tab at the beer garden. Music, drinking, laughter, women.....ah shit, mountain climbing is definitely over rated.

Sure UW is big and you stand the chance of being lost and overlooked, but when you make a splash at the UW, you can be confident that you've achieved something great, that you've swum with the really big fish and you're ready to spawn. At Evergreen, I'm sure you'll get whatever attention your fragile academic background requires, but your degree will be about as desirable and distinguished as a sheet of well-used Kleenex. I think the same is true with the Mounties (if that makes any sense).

Where do you think you guys were on this photo?

Perhaps the decision is personal, but the impact of one little mistake during your self-absorbed soloing mission can DEEPLY affect people around you. Who do you think is going to wipe your ass when you're in traction? First of all, take it from a guy who once loved soloing, there are many variables in rock climbing, whether performing with or without a rope. What makes ropeless rock climbing unique (and certainly different from the examples you cite) is that after 50 feet or so, there is almost zero chance of surviving a fall. I didn't read this; perhaps you deciphered this from the subtext. I only read an account of a guy who has personal experience with a friend getting severely hurt, and he's advising "this is what CAN happen when you climb alone and withou a rope." Climbing is "all about" many different things for many different people. You're kind of arrogant to assume your interpretation is correct, and you're kind of a jerk to tell Wally that he lacks understanding in this area. Climb solo if you want to, take whatever risks you feel are vital to deriving from climbing any meaning in your life. Just remember that even if your mother is the only person on the planet who gives a shit about you, you still owe it to her to temper your adventures so that your life is long and healthy. I think you did.

I heard they would be cheaper to produce, using a new technology that doesn't require machining. And 25% lighter!

That arrangement would never pass building code in Bonney Lake....not without a blue tarp over the roof.

Um....I wish to go on record....in fact, several of my Texas National Guard buddies and I wish to go on record...let's see, we'll call ourselves NOSE CANDY VETS FOR TRUTH....we would like to share our insight into the President's character and ability to lead. First of all, let me just say that back in the day, "W" could snort a mean line. I actually didn't see this but I don't like the guy and we were both in the Texas Guard at one time or another and it is convenient for me to make these claims, given my political agenda. Furthermore, I once sat in dental chair and talked to a guy who said his brother's girlfriend's sister's cousin had sat in the same dental chair and witnessed "W" having some work done (I must admit that outside of that episode, nobody in NOSECANDY VETS FOR TRUTH ever saw "W" on base). My dental difficulties resulted from cocaine abuse. Naturally, I can only assume that "W" experienced similar problems and therefore he shouldn't receive any military honors for his heroic and legendary bravery in that Texas National Guard dental chair.

Captain Sensible, you've got to be joking! Now that the climbing community embraces sport climbing, I really don't see how we can object to this. This is the future we have chosen.

Spire Rock diary?

You guys are stumbling over grains of sand and consequently missing the path. I simply go with the "fall guy" approach. Who was "top dog" when the the towers fell? Right. George W. Then he must be the guy to accept responsibility and step down. It's that simple.

Was CrazyJZ sportin' his knee pads? I've never seen him without.

Out of 20 sport climbers, what's the chance one of them could even recognize a tooth brush?

And that reminds me that a guy once crapped in my tent.

Can't say that I have. But I once wiped my ass on the pages of a contemporary moral philosophy book I had packed to the top of a hill.

I find it difficult to believe that the aspiring alpinists on this bulletin board did not immediatley recognize these features as "penitent snow". Obviously, the conditions in your ice box are similar to those necessary for extreme sun cup formulation: dry air, sun and wind. Mass is lost via sublimation on the points and by melting in the hollows (a much faster process). It seems likely that your door switch is malfunctioning so that the light doesn't shut off when the door is closed. I would guess that the fan is constantly running as well. Under these conditions, watch out for freezer burn on your weenies.

I attended a Cascades history class taught by Fred at Green River College. He is a walking, talking encylopedia of local history and geography, as well as refreshingly modest. Only 20 minutes of the last lecture were devoted to mountaineering and Fred didn't mention even one of his important ascents. Last week while approaching a peak in the N. Cascades, my friend and I were discussing Fred's accomplishments and impact on all who love mountaineering. Before Fred expires, we think it would be awesome if he were awarded an honorary doctorate for his contributions to the local history and its literature. We have ideas on how to pursue this but would welcome any suggestions/comments you would share.

When wilderness is outlawed, only outlaws.....oh fuck, it's time for a new president.

Seen on a septic pump truck: YOUR SHIT IS OUR BREAD AND BUTTER as well as A FLUSH BEATS A FULL HOUSE

Magic = 12 inches.

Uhh...I was pretty good at my craft.