ivan

thanks - how is the madrone thang coming along?

uh, didn't machiavelli answer that one a long time ago? "here the question arises; whether it is better to be loved than feared or feared than loved. the answer is that it would be desirable to be both but, since that is difficult, it is much safter to be feared than loved...for on men this observation must be made: they are ungrateful, fickle and deceitful...men have less hesititation in offending a man who is loved than one who is feared, for love is held by a bond of obligation which, as men are wicked, is broken whenever personal advantage suggests it, but fear is accompanied by the dread of punishment which never relaxes"

you assume that logic was involved...ha! "o when i'm dead all my drinking's over i'll take one drink then i'll drink no more but in case i mightn't get it done that day i'll take it now and drink away"

please don't tell my wife - i'm still dealing w/ bucketloads of shit b/c of the last chick who said such things and now one from memory... well i fell into prison about a quarter to three and found in my cell a glass waiting for me so i filled what was empty and i pulled up a stool but he stood in the corner the old devil he didn't move he said you drink when you're lonely sure i drink when i want! he said you'll never be sober sure why would i want that? i only drink to be merry but unfortunately i'm in the wrong prison cell and the wrong company!

sorta "the moonshiner" a traditional irish warble

jesus fuck! does this mean gandalf is god?

b/c i lost my weed there...somewhere...

renew michael, renew!

one summer evening, drunk to hell, i sat there nearly lifeless...

yeah, just the 1 day - still looking....

anyone?

i must have heard it a dozen times, but it was certainly before i moved out here

the wierd thing was, 5 minutes before i saw this thread, i found this same clip on youtube to show my daughter (that and the "spanish ladies" song)

Let the farmer praise his ground and the huntsman praise his hound The shepherd his sweet shady grove I'm more blessed than they, spend each happy night and day With my smiling little crúiscín lán, lán, lán With my smiling little crúiscín lán, lán, lán Grá mo chroí mo chrúiscín, sláinte geal mo mhuirnín [Graw mo khree mo khrooshkeen, slawncha gyal mo voorneen] Love of my heart, my little jug, bright health my darling Grá mo chroí mo chrúiscín, lán, lán, lán [Graw mo khree mo khrooshkeen, lawn, lawn, lawn] Love of my heart, my little jug, full, full, full Grá mo chroí mo chrúiscín, sláinte geal mo mhuirnín [Graw mo khree mo khrooshkeen, slawncha gyal mo voorneen] Love of my heart, my little jug, bright health my darling Is cuma liom do chúilín dubh nó bán. [iss cumma lum do khooleen doov no bawn.] It's all the same to me (if) your hair is black or white. Immortal and divine, sweet Bacchus, god of wine Create me by adoption of your son In hopes that you'll comply that my glass will ne'er run dry Nor my smiling little crúiscín lán, lán, lán Nor my smiling little crúiscín lán, lán, lán And when grim death appears in a few unpleasant years And says that my glass it has drawn I'll say 'Begone, you knave, for great Bacchus gave me leave To fill another crúiscín lán, lán, lán To fill another crúiscín lán, lán, lán. Then fill your glasses high, let them part with lips not dry For the lark now proclaims it is dawn And since we can't remain, may we shortly meet again To fill another crúiscín lán, lán, lán To fill another crúiscín lán, lán, lán

A long time ago, way back in history, when all there was to drink was nothin but cups of tea. Along came a man by the name of Charlie Mops, and he invented a wonderful drink and he made it out of hops. He must have been an admiral a sultan or a king, and to his praises we shall always sing. Look what he has done for us he's filled us up with cheer! Lord bless Charlie Mops, the man who invented beer beer beer tiddly beer beer beer. The Curtis bar, the James' Pub, the Hole in the Wall as well one thing you can be sure of, its Charlie's beer they sell so all ye lads a lasses at eleven O'clock ye stop for five short seconds, remember Charlie Mops 1 2 3 4 5 He must have been an admiral a sultan or a king, and to his praises we shall always sing. Look what he has done for us he's filled us up with cheer! Lord bless Charlie Mops, the man who invented beer beer beer tiddly beer beer beer. A barrel of malt, a bushel of hops, you stir it around with a stick, the kind of lubrication to make your engine tick. 40 pints of wallop a day will keep away the quacks. Its only eight pence hapenny and one and six in tax, 1 2 3 4 5 He must have been an admiral a sultan or a king, and to his praises we shall always sing. Look what he has done for us he's filled us up with cheer! Lord bless Charlie Mops, the man who invented beer beer beer tiddly beer beer beer. The Lord bless Charlie Mops!

Oh whiskey is the life of man Always was since the world began Whiskey-o, Johnny-o Rise her up from down below Whiskey, whiskey, whiskey-o Up aloft this yard must go John rise her up from down below Now whiskey made me pawn me clothes And whiskey gave me a broken nose Whiskey-o, Johnny-o Rise her up from down below Whiskey, whiskey, whiskey-o Up aloft this yard must go John rise her up from down below Now whiskey is the life of man Whiskey from an old tin can Whiskey-o, Johnny-o Rise her up from down below Whiskey, whiskey, whiskey-o Up aloft this yard must go John rise her up from down below I thought I heard the first mate say I treats me crew in a decent way Whiskey-o, Johnny-o Rise her up from down below Whiskey, whiskey, whiskey-o Up aloft this yard must go John rise her up from down below A glass of whiskey all around And a bottle full for the shanty man Whiskey-o, Johnny-o Rise her up from down below Whiskey, whiskey, whiskey-o Up aloft this yard must go John rise her up from down below

uh, to get the hell away from people who believe in santa claus, easter bunnies, faces appearing in tortillas and big guys in bathrobes that bestride the cosmos yet still bother to get involved in the intrigues of ants that said, crossing under huge icefalls and hearing rocks fall like artillery during the night never fails to lever out a few vestiges of primitive superstition from my divinely-wrought brain-jelly

anything by flogging molly

progress is for pussies!

the avi danger's higher there than luetholds as it gets morning sun. more convulted to get to w/ the canyon in the way. it's an easy route, but i always like having a second tool b/c its weighs hardly anythign and having one makes me feel like a rawk-star. doubt you'd have much use for ice-screws but having 1 couldn't hurt. picketts will work if you want them.

bring yer hand-jammies! and if someone could set up a zip-line back to the parking lot it'd be perfect. i like to see how freaked out dogs get at the base of the routes - it's damned difficult for a biped to get aroudn there

ah yes, taking "access issues" literally!

i prefer to call it the "dog pound" given the signboard that makes directions uber-easy (and the fact that it's a jail for beacon climbers when the ban's in)

you'd have to zoom in and see how much blood's splattered on the outside of the cracks - my superman vision indicates much of the red, red cruvy on tap, so i'm thinking yes indeed, that is "most-tape-your-fucking-hands-to-climb-here creek"

perhaps this is the perfect time to correct that oversight chris!