ivan

"irony, it's what's for breakfast"

the difference, dear druk, would be that 'mericans didn't make the lenin statue, they nipped it from the very bastards they were all nervous about all those years. ut bif the talibano's have themselves a groovy statue of OBL, then yeah, why not wrench it out of the ground and put it some park in nyc? ya know, let people pour bags of shit on top of it for 5$ a head n' put the moola towards a survivors' fund?

meh, trying to fuck w/ the nsa is probably dangerous - i think ggk could more readily improve his (and maybe many like-minded others?) mood if he instead just welded a large cock n' balls into lenin's cake-hole

my first climb in the northwest, what got me hooked on the area and the sport, was the humble old s side of mt hood, and on the 4th of july no less

ack, i still remember that father-son team that died after fallign down the colchuck glacier a few years ago - and that thing seems so tame in summer...

we shoulda lugged the roman coliseum back here, brick by brick, after teaching them eye-talian bitches a lesson in double-you-double-you-eye-eye!

i once thought, passing through fremont in a thoroughly phreaked state-of-mind, that it would make a mighty-neat sci-fi story - lenin in nineteen twenty-whenever approached by some mysterious time-traveler - lenin shown a picture of seattle a century later - he erupts in gales of laughter at his triumph, then soon thereafter he gets another gallery of pix of the walmart just a few miles down the road to set him straighter

funny, i always took it tongue n' cheek - ya know, capitalists buying at cut-rate a shitty old statue nobody behind the iron-curtain wanted anymore n' putting it up in the Land of the Free just to rub the bastard's face in his defeat? like the crusaders tossing the crescent moon of the jerusalem mosque into the qibla cum pisser? i can, however, see how one w/ roots back to that part of the world wouldn't savor the joke quite the same...

bitch'n'camero, n' holy shit, lake serene most definitely a pleasant site at the end of it, if only to remind you how truly puny the warm-up you just did was

fisher chimneys is a great idea as a starter- if he doesn't like that, he's a lost cause forbidden is a no-brainer intro climb too

Trip: Crowded Point - Crusty Jewel Date: 2/8/2014 Trip Report: the snowpacalypse arrived promptly to resolve a week of unbearable woe - beacon closed - bastards howling at all hours - worst of all, a complete failure to cave in and give up on a craving to go a month w/o wine - a week spent crawling the walls n' slurping down endless cups of scalding mint tea, chewing fingernails n' feeling deeply listless n' disinterested, leafing through the pages of yet another war-book adventure the order of the day - the blizzard of the century came howling in thursday morning, scattering the baser bitches in all directions just after lunch - to the gym then home, the red devil skittering all over the frozen highway - a long walk to the park w/ children grown crazy w/ snow fever, the dog-damned god sprinting n' leaping like a lunatic set free - the frost-gale growing in gusts, the halls of the ice-lords turned upside down school cancelled for the day after, my union-agitator-training discarded as peremptorily, so a session of madness seemed promising - fortuitously the powderhund was looking to skip work too n' play, so there's the rope gun all lit along, now all i have to do is survive the drive - glorious sun, clear skies to hood shrink-wrapped in storm-clouds, not that i could see much of any of it w/ the windshield cleaner fluid frozen solid in the lines, leaving me reliant on my jedi mind-skills to keep it all on the road - wrecks all around, the detritus of ice-zombies in various states of revivification, wresting themselves from their ruined rides - troutdale's winds not quite the hurricane force i'd feared, bryan happy to drive n' me happy to sit aside n' smoke cooly, gazing out on the wintry columbia, gorge walls clad in frost-fangs and the piers on the river shackled in rime high above the wave-lines set the car down at the rooster park - the wind howling, drifts all over the lot - we seperate as bryan decides at the last minute to buy a year pass and figures he's always walking my slow ass into the ground so i might as well get started - made sense, until in hindsight later on, i realized he might be tempted like any fool who's going to the crown jewel the first time to try to eschew the hike down the highway to the access road in favor of following other fools tracks down to the boundary lakes great gusts at my back as i hoofed along alone, a steady stream of frantic looking drivers glancing me over as they screamed on by the interstate, fingers white on the wheel - no sign of bryan behind - quick chat w/ a stranger out scouting the ice planning on come back tomorrow turning back east on the train-tracks, had to suss out the snow-goggles to keep my eye-balls from being flenzed off by the foul breeze lovely little cliff a bit crestfallen i'd reached the joint only to have the partner completly unaccounted for - i pictured him swimming in the slush in his plastics and settled for a cigarette n' some low-ball soloing while he got his shit sorted out eventually saw a figure or two hove into view from the wrong end of the tracks - thought at first it might be my boy but then it resolved into two - their tracks no doubt helped taunt bryan to the same grief they'd just endured, plunged partway into the lake then forced to circle-round it the long way all was well, the 'hund emerged even as the two portlanders began to punch their way up hardly great conditions for just sitting around n' bullshitng, bryan too got geared up quick and blitzed up the waterfall - fine ice conditions - some water bubbling behind but mostly solid and thick enough for screws - we climbed to the right as the other crew took the left, bryan arriving a few minutes before them to the bolt-anchor (rigged up w/ an american death-triangle for reasons passing understanding in this modern fucking era) i froze my fingers good following and paused for a mild case of the buzzing barfies - ole'boy said the upper pitch looked like bullshit and i make it a point never to argue w/ case i'm in complete agreement w/ - we settled for doing as many tr-laps as we could squeeze in before the next round of storm was due to come scuttling in setting up the tr soon enough it was time to go, the sky gone all gun-metal grey and the stinging wind, never absent, now laden w/ flecks of white - packed up quick n' bugged out, the big breeze building in leaps and lulls - the walk back on the interstate truly rewarding w/ the wind in our teeth fresh crash on the on-ramp, an suv in the trees, partly rolled and ruefully smashed - cops n' medics n' onlookers converging from all directions, we passed in silence - troutdale again - parting is such sweet something - bryan off to fetch his little-lovely from a plane bound from old mexico - me to home and snowball fights n' hibernal hijinx w/ la familia after an eye-opening commute, highlit by hitting ice n' oscillating back n' forth off course at 35 mph fine season in this here city this winter - can we get a third wave i wonder?

storm warrior! how high did you go? how many ice-zombies along the interstate on the way back?

can't believe The Scarab didn't get the nod for yet another space-warp of an adventure good odds on at least a day of far skankier ice to be had down here in the gorge this here weekend...

doesn't look like a big window - freezing rain sunday then 40s n' rain monday - might be good enough to at least tr the flow below 14 on cape horn

it's not a crag if your buzz can burn off between the parking lot and the base!

nope, no more ladders, this year's gonna be a full on via ferrata! where's raindawg's goddamn stock photo when you need it?

the blogs ain't just for soloing, just beacon in general - i need to do one for 2/1 as i took the family out for a nice walk up the pinnacle and down by the river i could do updates for my beacon-dreams? holy shit, somewhere near dawn on monday i had this crazy dream i'd put up a new route on the east side w/ bryan, raining death-blocks on the rangers screaming at us from below, then gone home to spray about it on cc.retard - keeeerist, i thought, am i really this stupid?

hey, at least you didn't mention setting shit on fire in the cave like some other clowns 'roudn here; that woulda earned you an immediate negative 10 stars and ultimate tr-bannination!

you must not be a heavy-drinker if'n you could get all the way out there n' action-suited up for blast-off by 830! seem's like its always crack'a'noon for me nice hat

like watching retards try to hump a doorknob...

how you gonna send, playa, if'n you got no fresh latte flowing through yer system?!?

1/31 - day 5 - the dying day, beacon about to be banned and gone till the sun of summer grows high in the western sky - i dreamed that this stretch of winter-dry might linger, but it was not to last- rain all week, not a chance of a solo - friday the final desperate hope, the signs all set to be cemented into place - fuck off you unfeeling fumbling freak no partner could i prepare - mike too molested - kenny contaminated - adam all a'hoo - so i drove out in the growing dusk, gunmetal gray all around, a fresh pack of poison n' a wondrous hip-flask of you-know-what - i lusted that i might arrive to an ecological aberration, a monstrous monolith undamaged by the falling damps of late; slut-dream i deemed, and damned so it turned out - the lot besodden n' me too it seemed - no courage at all to contend w/ the dripping cliffs - i settled instead for a romp up the retard trail, rope in tail a pleasant rappel it shoulda been, but my belay device turned bitchy, and i tossed it into the trash-heap after - hurk n' jerk n' force-feed, the 'biner all besmirched w/ rope-shakings - a smoke n'a few-fingers on the ledge, then continued on down, the day dying and the golden globe breaking out in bold shafts of light at the last minute - finally at the base, in the dark, i trod along the way w/ bottle n' soaked in the scene so soon to be denied - up the trail at last, i found the preternatural phucks had already posted their signs closing the fucker down! to summer, may it soon come!

none more so than your's, good sir, for reasons that are invariably obvious Even more so, his avatars... denalidave, master of the obvious!

none more so than your's, good sir, for reasons that are invariably obvious

i AM spartacus!