Dwayner

Pope writes about the beauty of his climbing experiences: "Getting out, feeling the wind, wrestling with a steep crack, appreciating the way the evening sun illuminates the snowy summits, coming home with sunburn and sore muscles..."and trying to talk Dwayner into wearing a wig and stuffing his shirt..."all affirmations that I had an adventure"

Will, my brother...some clarifications are in order. RE: the hippie chicks: you forgot one of the most prominent traits that should appear at the top of your list: FLAKEY! They'll pack up their stuff and leave at any moment of "inspiration" including seeing a guy with a bigger guitar (or even a smaller one like them portable backpack jobbers) or with a couple of more Arlo Guthrie's in his repertoire. They can also be verbally embarassing around your more sophisticated friends. I do agree with you on them little apron shirt things....hotcha! The matted reggae hair...are you kidding me? Not only does it look like small animals live in there, but it looks like hell and makes me sad that someone would do that to their beautiful hair. But if you can put up with the babbling, etc., it really comes down to hygiene which tends to be seriously lacking. If you've got a venue for regularly skinny-dipping nearby (not very reasonable in an urban setting), you might have a solution, but it has to be regular. Perhaps a hot tub could be a possible subsitute. Hey pope! Tell Will about what you think of that pachouli oil! And tell him how you scored all them girls when you were single by putting on that wedding ring before you went into a bar. I recall pope's attempts to find his identity. It must of been about 10 years ago. (The guy's only about 35 now so he wasn't old enough to do the 60's nonsense.) In fact, I'm really surprised that he's coming clean about his "experiment" in a public forum such as this because I used to tease him about it and he didn't seem to like it. Yes, he temporarily appeared here and there with a black beret, a pipe, the wool knickers and the books. It seemed to have limited effect. He was just another face in the mob of zombies at the Tacoma Mall and Starbuck's. It was a "nice try", however. RE: not appreciating music. You're right, I had the years of piano lessons. Ten years of classical training to be exact and I continue to play such music along with jazz and lounge and a variety of other styles. (And I was even in a sarcastic little punk rock band back in 78/79 called "Rotten Fruit" in which I played keyboards and wrote a few utterly worthless songs including "Don't Pull that Crap on Me" and "Take a trip on the Goon-Balloon"). And my buddy pope is far from musically illiterate and has long been a fan of Jazz well before his beret experience although it might have inspired his experiment. So, now that your car is fixed, you can now go out, find a pleasant setting where pedestrians roam (like near the water in Portland), whip out that guitar and wait for them hippie chicks who are probably all bundled up in many layers of warmth...which is probably a good thing. aloha! - Dwayner p.s. Thanks for calling me and pope a couple of "cats". Hep-cats we are.

I don't give a rat's butt what all you climbers got for Christmas. Santa hasn't like me for years, but the fact still remains: LANCE ARMSTRONG STILL MAKES MOST CLIMBERS LOOK LIKE A BUNCH OF WEENIES!!! pope: them coupon's to Fox's expired years ago. Have you ever heard of a $2 couch dance? Check the date, dude. They're circa 1978. You can thank me later for saving you a slap in the face and a mighty boot-kick out the front door. Also that hot li'l number "checking you out at at the REI". Her name is Cynthia, and I paid her $25 to stalk you as a goof. Too bad you didn't strike up a conversation because I would have really gotten my money's worth cuz she nasty! Brother Will: come over here and share them brews with your buddy Dwayner. Thanks for clarifying your bolt objectives and a big old congratulations for getting rid of that damn guitar. Sure, strummin' a few chords by yourself in a campground at JT or the Smith Rocks might attract a few females...if you enjoy the unwashed hippy type or the sensitive romantics who will follow you around like lost puppies. Trust me, you did a beautiful thing when you unloaded that device. And it sounds like the grand and parental units are on the ball. Tell your dad that your internet buddies need new computers too so as to further your social life. (Dude! get your dad to buy you a new van so you can stop wasting your time on the repairs and get out. Tell him that you've spent more time on that master cylinder than the abstract monetary value of the more fulfilling climbing you could have been doing instead. And consider this while you're fighting under the van: why do you think they call it a "master" cylinder? Who's the boss, amigo? It ain't gonna give up without a struggle!) You guys..rock on. - Dwayner P.S. I don't know what a "dank nugget" is but I'm not sure I want to know. (isn't that what pope left on his sleeping bag?) pope: beware of the "Central Scrutinizer." And there was no need to give Cynthia your phone number. She's got it and will be calling you a lot at home. If you're not home, she will leave many messages and you can expect her to call at 11:59 PM on New year's eve.

Happy Ho-LOU-days from Dwayner, pope and their buddies. We remain accepting of the knowledge that whatever Big Lou is doing to celebrate, our New Year's Party will never be as rockin', but that doesn't mean we won't try! I've got a hot tub and pope is going out to find a trampoline. Now all we'll need are the hot babes, some struttin' big shot mountain guides, the snacks, a few equipment rep.'s eager to distribute pro-deals, some beer and a lot of snappy alpine chatter to keep the festivities rolling. (Sorry, but we won't be able to accomodate sport climbers until we get a separate hot-tub...it gums up the filters.) Maybe next year. Oh yah, it goin' be one wild fiesta. And maybe someday, when we feel worthy...we might even invite His Lou-ness himself..maybe the year after next. I don't think we're quite ready yet..but we will be, someday! aloha, Dwayner

I got's a couple of pee-funnel stories. Pee Device Story #1: Several years ago, I was foolish enough to volunteer for a mountain rescue unit. (That's another story...but for the curious, it was an basically an impenetrable clique of people who couldn't climb). A group of us were hiking through Glacier Basin on Mt. Rainier when it was time for a piss-stop. A couple of us dudes went to some bushes to uncoil our mighty fire hoses and we were soon joined by the lone Betty in the group (and in the rescue club as well). She unzipped her fly and pee'd right next us. Needless to say, it left us dazed and confused. She thought our reactions were hilarious and displayed for us a device called a "Wizmo" (a brand of pee-funnel) which she recommends to all female outdoor participants. Pee Device Story #2: I used to teach a month long expedition class in the Winter and I invited Princess Wizmo to come to my class and give the gals a speech. She urged them to "practice in the shower" and each purchased a device. A week later, while hiking near our snowy campsite, I heard some giggling around the corner. All five females were trying to write their names in a snowbank. That alone, it seems, would be worth the price of the tool. - Dwayner

Dude! Why don't you just drive to Bellingham! shalom, Dwayner

Nacho: Back to the library. Now! - Prof. Dwayner

Nacho...are you so desperate that you turn to an internet climbing bulletin board for advice on your religion term-paper? Isn't this finals week? It is? Well get your miserable butt into the library and start studying rather than hanging out reading climbing blather! To answer your question, try MartinLuther.com. (Warning: stay away from the spray page if you're Catholic.)If you think you're going to find your answer here, me bucko, you're dreaming. Ask three theologians to address this question, and if they can come up with a conclusion, you'll get four different answers.shalom, Professor Dwayner P.S. Even Jesus got pissed off on occasion. Note the story of driving the moneychangers from the temple. And there were many occasions of strong verbal rebuke. And in the Old Testament/Hebrew Bible, God had lots of harsh ways of dealing with "evildoers". [ 12-19-2001: Message edited by: Dwayner ] [ 12-19-2001: Message edited by: Dwayner ] [ 12-19-2001: Message edited by: Dwayner ]

Tuesday night...just the night after Monday for most folks. But for those who choose to make the effort, a few hours of enchanting social discourse await along with a chance to meet climbing friends old and new, while partaking of adult beverages and tasty bar snacks. The initiated know of which I speak: cc.com Pub Night, and last night's event surely met the description above. I was pleased to learn that it would this time be held in the delightful city of Tacoma, whose underappreciated charm is even represented in the choice of venue: "the Swiss", a cavernous food and beverage establishment not far from Tacoma's magnifent new downtown attractions (which include an Art Museum, the Washington State History Museum, and the new Museum of Glass, plus a UW branch campus). I arrived a bit late and was surprised to see no one after making two passes through the building. Some squeals next to the pool tables convinced me that I was looking in the wrong place: the versatile and talented cc.com Pub-Clubbers were playing pool! The whole bunch of them were lined up against the wall, beers in hand watching some rather weak attempts at billiards. It looked like a veritable alpine line-up of the usual suspects: Dr. J, Fast Eddie, Ehmmic, Wallschtein, Jazzbone Erik, Wallstein's brother Roofstein and the one and only mtnrgr. I didn't like the set-up: a bunch of people standing around. Fortunately, the world famous Russ Chandler and Matt P. soon appeared with pitchers of ale in hand and I called a party foul on the pool scene. Setting an example conducive to quality mountaineering discussion, we migrated to a nearby table and soon the rest followed. A dozen scintillating conversations ensued thereafter. Routes new and old were discussed, world crises were solved and although there were some minor but friendly disputes, we all agreed on one question: where were all the other cc.com participants? Caveman and hikerwa: you guys were talking like big-shots as if you were going to show up but you didn't! Pope and Dru and Rurp: you guys too cool for Tacoma? The lovely Holly Climber and the delightful Dynamite: are we not worthy anymore? And how about you, Alpine K? Lisa: it's been awhile. And what about that guy over there eating the doughnut? What's your lame excuse? And what about you? That's right, you! The guy with the papertowel rack mounted on his computer desk: Where were you? "Working late at the office"? 'nuf said other than that these pub-club things offer an opportunity to make progress in your alpine life, meet some new buddies (and maybe find out first-hand that many of the spray-lords aren't really all that viscious in person), plan new adventures and it's an excuse to get out of the house or forget your job for a few hours. Too much fun! - faithfully reported by Dwayner. P.S. Message to Fast Eddie who ate a large plate of fried cheese: you feeling O.K buddy? Or should I ask you that a couple of weeks from now?

Caveman say: "I made it to the bar after Dwayner. Oh well. I tried. You act if I am alien. I was even bringin a newcomer." Dwayner say: me 'n Matt-P left around 11:00 so I don't know what you boys were up to! Get some sleep, man!

Excellent!

Sorry, amigo. It's English to German to English. The clue: "hot tip" - "heisse Spitze" - "am called tip". Translation program confused "heisse" meaning hot, with the a form of the verb "heissen"- "to be called." Good try, though. I'll give you a kewpie doll as a prize anyway. As you probably know, most of those translation programs suck. You really need to have a good working knowledge of the language of interest to be able to tweak the crude translations they create. I have to deal with several different languages in my work and I occasionally scan an obnoxious text with OCR, and dump it into the translation program to catch vocabulary that I don't know, and then spend just as much time cleaning it up, often with a dictionary. shalom!- "Dwayner"

Brother Dru: I wouldn't usually bark in on a discussion like this, but I'm tired of hearing the wage disparity argument. I worked in Egypt for a good long time and hired lots of local people from the villages as labor. They made the equivalent of about $3 per day. It was the going rate and they were grateful. When we hired people, there were far more people willing and wanting to work than we needed or could afford on our budget. The fact is, it's a heck of a lot cheaper to live there, although nowhere close to American standards. If I paid them even American minimum wage it would have disrupted their local economy; I would have only been able to afford to hire only a fraction of the number who wanted to work; and it would have made it difficult for those who followed in my path who probably wouldn't be able to hire more than a few. The fact is, it is cheaper to make many things abroad. If you want to support often extorniate union wages to have your stuff made here, you can pay $200 for your pair of shoes. I prefer American-made if it's affordable and well-made, otherwise, I say share the wealth because there are lots of people in this world who appreciate the money. I am, however, concerned how those people treat their employees or citizens. But, when you boycott China, you very well might be putting a lot of good people out of work who are just trying to make a living. ("But it's for their own good!" - B.S. - tell that to someone with a large family to feed.) (And I ain't interested in a pissing match about unions.)

Hey,pope! Tell 'em all that story about how you met Big Lou at the Whittaker bunkhouse last year. That was a good one; tell it again! IT DON'T GET ANY MORE FAMOUS THAN THAT!!!

Those who have been to the Pub Club in Tacoma before, are well aware of the city's charm, hospitality and alpine excellence as the gateway to Mighty Tahoma, for which it is named. "The Swiss" is an excellent venue due to it's easy on/off freeway access (easier than removing your sweaty rainbow sport-climbing lycra body suit) and its nice selection of adult beverages. So drag yourselves to Tacoma and find out why it's called "The City of Destiny". Here be the directions, amigos y amigas! Pub Club Directions in Tacoma: "The Swiss", 1904 S. Yakima Directions coming south on I-5 Take Tacoma City Center Exit, #133 This will take you on a little freeway veering right known as 705 N. Get left and take the S. 21st Street exit. Go through lights and cross Pacific. Go hill on 21st a couple or few blocks until Jefferson. Make a right on Jefferson. The Swiss is just about a block ahead on the left at the corner of Jefferson and 19th. It's really easy to get back to I-5 for the return to Seattlewards. Down Jefferson, left on 21st S., and the big signs will point you in the right direction. You kids comin' from parts south...I know you can figure it out!

Dru: 1) This is spray. 2) I do not want your "am called tip" nowhere beside my body. Figure out the language, smart-alec. your pal, Dwayner

Hi Wallstein!Why don't you move the location to Jazzbones, my friend? Because it gonna get noisy, and they probably gonna charge $8 cover charge for the band which in my opinion is better spent on a pitcher of suds if the object is to sit around and kibitz with the alpine-homeys. Besides, Beck spent a couple of hours driving around Tacoma last week trying to find the elusive Engine House 9 which is right around the corner from Jazzbone, and he knows how to get around. The easy on/easy off freeway access to the Swiss is a convenient treat not only for Beck, but for all others coming from abroad such as the Caveman and those who have yet to venture south. aloha, Dwayner [ 12-18-2001: Message edited by: Dwayner ]

Sorry, Dru, I forgot about all them Canadian drug smugglers with the higher morals. Canada: the land whose most famous citizen, Alex Trebek, defected to the U.S.

Dru: The small trick with the translation software gets old , if not stale. You/They are very cleverer than this. Just one hot tip of somebody , which would find usually your commentaries often humorously.

...It's so big, it graduated a year ahead of him. It's so big, there's a homeless family living underneath it. It's so big, they once made a movie called "Godzilla vs. Lou's Unit". It's so big, he can use it as a limbo pole at a beach party. It's so big, you can now go to the movies and order popcorn in several sizes: small, medium, large, jumbo and Big Lou's Unit! It's so big, right now, he's climbing Rainier tomorrow! It's so big, it has a horizon. It's so big, it has a commemorative stamp. It's so big, they cold run the Indy 500 on it with no turns. It's so big, it has its own line of hip-hop clothing. It's so big, Alan Greenspan uses it to raise interest rates. It's so big, if he didn't sleep on his side, planes would crash into it. It's so big, it gets to hang out on the set of "Friends". It's so big, he has to check it as luggage when he flies...on a jumbo jet. It's so big, the city was gonna build a statue in honor of it but ran out of cement.

Since we be talking about smokin' up, to Smoky McPothead...just a couple of more comments. Seems like a lot of folk on this board, at least, partake of the weed. It ain't my thing but it's probably ultimately a lot safer than drinkin' all of them Mickey's. But here are a few reasons why I ain't puffin.... 1) I know some dudes that started at least 25 years ago when it was big and everywhere and they lit up many times a day and never stopped. They're really nice guys but they're now BURNT! 2) Unless you're growin' your own, or know the source, there's a good chance that just a few steps back behind your little purchase there is death and mayhem in the equation (via smuggling, drug rings, etc.). [And there are (were?) places in Hawaii, little valleys and things, where if you accidentally stumbled upon someone's little plantation, the booby-traps or the "ranch-hands" would do you in.] 3) one word: gynomastia. a.k.a. "man-tits". Pot will bring them on. (so will steroids). So smoke 'em up, if you's wants, but Dwayner will have to pass.

...it's so big, snow doesn't melt off the end of it until late August. It's so big, Stephen Hawking has a theory about it. It's so big, it's got a spine. It's so big, your house is built on it. It's so big they've named a sandwich after it...no, I take that back...TWO sandwiches! It's so big, it plays golf with the president!

Smokey McPothead! If you're a kid, then listen to pope, he speaks truth. If you're not, and you're a full-fledged 21 year old or older, this is how I'd work your routine: first of all, you're never going to be a world-class skier if you're a big pot-head, it takes more discipline than that and the real competition probably ain't smokin' out. (From what I understand, that last statement doesn't necessarily apply to sport-climbers where the risk is low and the stakes for screwing up small). Secondly, This is what I would do: I would check the weather forecast the night before, and if it looks like it's going to suck, I'd set the alarm clock for 11 AM at the earliest. And instead of doing all of that stretching, I'd launch into my first Mickey's sixer of the day. Then I'd call pope and start talking about lunch and night skiing. Then I'd put on some hip ski outfit and hit the lunch special at the local teriyaki or Mexican joint. (I'm footin' the bill, cuz pope's drivin') As we approach the ski area, I get the ace bandages from underneath the seat (next to the wig) and start wrapping. This is to compliment the set of crutches in the trunk of popes car for which is are useful in a whole variety sympathy scenarios. (And I makes him fetch the crutches to my side of the car just for full effect.) I hobble into the lodge and find myself a place at the bar, close to the action, and start the blarney. Within a half hour I've got the whole bar feeling bad about my leg and I'm leading the crowd in pub songs. People start buying me drinks and the barmaids start passing me their phone numbers discretely on the back of beer coasters. Meanwhile, pope has bought a pricey lift ticket, makes a few miserable turns in the slush and eventually comes in lookin' like a damp tabby. I point him out, the crowd laughs, and the party resumes. A little later, we get the hora dancing going and a conga line and everyone forgets that I came in on crutches. If pope isn't getting the attention he craves, I lend him the crutches and let him have a try with the latest refugees from the lousy skiing. The weather sucks but the day is saved, and we return again for some real skiing when the weather is clear, preferably on a weekday. Yup. That's what I would do. And yes, you ain't gonna be a world-class skier or climber if you're a big 'ole booze-head either! aloha, Dwayner

Ahoy rurp! Don't worry about Dru. He's accused me of being "pope" in the past. You'd think that would end when me and pope both showed up at the same time at one of those pub club things a couple of months ago. Dru wasn't there, unfortunately. He also has a thing about pope and "donna top-step" (an old girlfriend of pope's and a long-time friend of mine). I suppose we'll all three have to show up at some convenient time, but it's hardly worth the effort. Maybe at one of those Climberfest things like they had in Leavenworth last year. Anyway, RURP, don't worry about these conspiracy theorists, there are guys on this discussion list with numerous names and some of them probably engage in debates with themselves. But it's all supposed to be in good fun so don't take it too personally. aloha, Dwayner

Brother Erik: If you want to gets the babes, just tell them that you know Dwayner and his pal, "pope". It works like a charm. Sure, it's second tier stuff like dating the concert T-shirt guy but when she later finds out that you climb better than either me or pope, you've landed the big account. I'd be droppin' your name with the same effect if I wuz on the hunt! Here's a few great first date tips: - rent the Eiger Sanction and then narrate the technical stuff and convince her that Clint is a big weenie and that you're much better; - take her the REI - the big one in Seattle - and escort her to the gear section. Explain the gear to her and call attention to the fact that you "use this gear yourself in the mountains, the big 'ole mountains!" - drink a few Mickey's and show up late, telling her that you were delayed because you were volunteering at the Hospital for Sick Kittens. CAUTION: DO NOT USE THE FOLLOWING WORDS ON A FIRST DATE!!!! "enema", "masculine itching", "tape worm", or "digital exam.". Girls do not want to hear this kind of stuff for a long time. Take it or leave it; I'm just trying to help y'out! Peace, dawg! - Dwayner