ivan

afghans, by contrast have created....uh....uh....real warm blankets?

and four official languages and a pocket-knife w/ 327 different functions?

In the Neolithic? funny that tiny-ass modern switzerland w/ a total population less than new york city still has 26 seperate states

i've never been there, nor met an afghan, but my understanding is that, despite divisions in language, ethnicity and sect, there is a core of "afghan-ness" - a sense of shared history, cultural pride, desire for indepedence from outside powers, etc. it seems to me the kind of nation best described as a confederation where the many groups feel a simulateous collective and seperate identity. canada has 2 national languages and plenty of divisions too, no? doesn't mean it can't function as a corporate entity.

if it dispenses pure burgundy, i could give a shit what it sounds like...

this will no doubt come as a shock to your many cc.com supporters

will probably be out there that night after school too...

It's the highlighted in bold that I have a problem with. The 9/11 investigation was a joke. you have a problem w/ the word "report?" what's the difference between a report, a memo, a press release, a spokesman, etc? it all boils down to the same thing: "The Man" says he thinks this is what happened and why. what conspiracy theory DOESN'T revolve around dissastisfaction w/ a goverment report be it 9/11 or the warrn commission? christ, if only pilate had stopped washign his hands during his report! "who else was on that grassy golgotha that day?! stop washing your hands and release the files on the 3 roman peasants w/ the 100$ sandals!"

it seems a catch-22 for kev and those w/ similiar anger/incredulity for what "the governmetn says" - if something happens, say a plane crashes into a building or a dude dressed like an ally kills 4 of your soldiers, "the goverment" has but 2 choices: 1) it can not investigate, not attempt to understand what happened, improve or prevent such instance in the future, and then be justly described as incompetent and stupid by folks like kev or 2) it can actually do all those things, issue a report, make recommendations, but then be accused of covering up and making "official versions" by the very same people should The Man never say what he thinks happened?

it's like shakespeare dood (or reading "trainspotting" or the like writ in thick scotch-slurry) - ya just gotta read it outloud to suss it out! hitting yourself in the head w/ a hammer first or sucking down a pint of your favorite spirit couldn't hurt neither...

9/16 - my first partner for sunday bailed on thursday, then my second on saturday, so, in the spirit of third-time's-the-charm, i settled for meself solo on this fine sabbath day woke of 8 w/ the sun amplifying the undigested wine in my brain-box and biding me rise and begin the purification ritual - half my gear's been building up in the trunk of the red-devil, but i thought i shoudl make an occasion of it and go aid-solo something serious - big haulbag filled of all, i stumbled to the car w/ my gear and w/ the best breakfast i could lash together in my stertorous stupor - ended up being two pale ales and a mouthful of week old pad thai, backed up w/ a duo of sad camels arrived in the lot to calm winds and calmer crowds - just didn't feel like strapping on the fifi, so reckoned to solo a corner lap first then get to it, but a few feet into the lap got to thinking back to july and the 4 laps in an evening i'd done on the occasion of the olympic kick-off - thought i oughta improve on that personal record and set the bar at six? 3 laps in the can and not a soul sighted - dripping sweat in the substantial heat, dawn just a memory by then as i'd arrived after 9 and the incipient breeze nothing more than a meteorological cock-tease - a hot glare and a heavy air christians by the holy-fuck load cluster-fucking the trail - 4 full fucking tourbuses of the little fellows, bedecked w/ their goddamn savior's gibbot, which their leader hauled up in half-carries for the great glory of dog - "aren't you folks commanded to observe the sabbath and eschew heathen labor" i queried? led by laywers, his comment immediate the product of parsing his puzzling text: "today we do His work" rounded the corner for lap 4 to find frazzled rick rigged up for a rope-solo and it didn't take long to reduce him to the dark side - we did a pair of simul solos, the first finding old boy w/ eyes as wide as irish butterballs passed a lovely lady w/ the slab well in hand, half-annoyed no doubt to weather our "helpful" comments - i can't complain about standing in line, mid-pitch, w/ such a luscious view... rick fucked-off in the fullness of time and i had but one more to get my 6, but being done w/ it, felt a prime # more the thing - rick said he knew our old boy pink had once done 8, and my heart was half-set in the spirit of competition, but then surely the cut of my jib could never be so beguiling as our dear boy in his littlewing pic - came down for a 7th lap then and sent it soon enough, my head spinning, my mind twisting and wondering where it was exactly i was again in this ever-repeating scenario - coulda managed another 2 i reckon, there was sun enough, but i thought i'd wander on back to stoke the home-fires and finish some more of this never ending chicken-coop work the wife embarked on - a fine meal of eggs n' fresh peppers n' frank's sauce, finished off w/ a gullet-full of fine wine and a gut laugh over gross humor n' now it's time for school work and an early nap! 7 laps/day - here's to 9 by the end of october? managing 3 laps per 2 hours when there's no distractions to be had, so imagine i could manage the whole shit-eria in 6 hours and call the whole thing something like 4000+ feet of climbing/scrambling/moss-hiking?

like they said in vietnam! "hey, don't knock it, it's the only war we got!"

my family never held patton in much regard - in the war games in louisiana shortly before ww2 my grandfather, as part of the opposing force, got bitched out by old blood'n'jizz when he tried passing through his checkpoint and my pop had the audacity to tell him he'd been killed by the enemy - old-boy cursed a blue-streak and sped off in his jeep - i might add though that my gramps was in way more enlightened in his racial views

sure, patton had a great plan - and how likely would have being way more forceful w/ the soviets at that time ended up in ww3?

would punching me make you feel like you were getting even w/ the mean, mean world? did i make it this way? would it really be so much better if everybody was as kewl as you?

bootied a stopper yday on cruising that i've no need for, should you wish a replacement

stay away, it's horrible down here! and the poison oak's beyond insane!

9/14 - 14th day at beacon this season - hardly a breathe of a breeze, odd after the howling gale of the day before - a peck of peregrines and a pretty phat pack of elk, dispersed upon the island and more thickly about the crick leading off towards bonneville - wheezy bugles and high-piercing shrieks - the powderhund on rehab on his mangled meniscus - cruise'n to jill's thrill - who/when the fuck cut out the sling and rings on the grassy ledges rap? beers and bullshit'n at the base - a heavy scent of fire in the air, like the memory of yosemite and sun-dappled mania - glorious sunset - the summer is banned and abased, fading fast in the fuck-fury dark of eight

negotiations underway w/ little woman - serious attention played to know chicken mansion on property - hold fast!

"oddly, soon thereafter, the hungry mob retired to a local chick-fil-a to sate their ravenous appetites"

there is no sobo. there never was a sobo. double plus-ungood.

'cuz ya think yer shit is shit already? plus, ya know, yer shit's like, right here, and my shit's waaaaay over here and what-not...

from the onion: "no one murdered because of this image"

sadly, Authority HAS had a poor track record of winning the hearts or especially the minds of its Peasants - watergate did, as thompson decried, break the heart of the american dream

the inevitable truncation of this lovely little bit of swift wisdom though is "never attempt to reason w/ a man" which sadly leaves you quickly w/ no more option than to open him up w/ whatever sharp object lies close at hand, no? heaven forbid, it is heathenish itself!