ivan

isn't this what some ancient indian tribe thought the universe looked like?

8/26 - day 18 - solo lap in the afternoon, moonlight climb at night - shared the stone w/ 2 lovely shielas on the first round (we bootied your nut if'n you want it back) n' the night round was w/ the silverman crowd - hooting n' hollering down on the dock w/ a drunken dave n' a krunked kenny - gripped drive home as the goddamn check engine light came back on

you're being obtuse. n' yer being didactic

president, governor, mayor, meh, it's much the same - it's harder to dominate presidential politics of course b/c there's such fewer spots how is the potential tyranny of a family much different than of a machine? would it make much sense to describe a political dynasty as being just a husband and wife, as in the clinton case? to my mind a dynasty is defined as being multi-generational, which the clinton's don't meet, and to which even the bush's are only barely qualified

jeebus, doesn't wikipedia have an entry for everything? https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_United_States_political_families sure only 4 of 44 presidents have been direct relations, but that's an awful small data set and, even so, that still means 9% of all presidents have been father-son, which is a big chunk - throw in the harrisons and and roosevelts and you're up to nearly 1/5 presidents being from a dyansty (if indeed a dynasty is but 2 members of the same family being in the same profession) clearly, as the wiki shows, there's a shit-ton of political families over the ages, many of whom would have been president if the political winds had allowed it the corruption of a political machine seems equally menacing to the corruption of a family - i'd not vote against the current bush or clinton b/c of their family name so much as the fact i didn't think much of the current flower of that family tree

wierd to see smoke clouds like that outside of the tent

political dynasties are nothing new in 'merica and in some ways they do make sense - families often cleave to a certain profession over generations, and human nature finds voters re-assured w/ familiar names i'd plan on ordering off the menu in a bush/clinton election

maybe we should just use it's original injun name?

8/20 - day 17 - dod's w/ kenny, me rather rusty after a month of a whole lotta not climbing - practically a full division of armor heading west over the rail-head, a site i'd long wished to behold - christ, is summer so near deceased?

last pitch of jills is the flaring thing on the right side of p3 (off stoner ledge) - usually a good bit of blackberry right at the start to make it fun the cool crack left of that anchor is crazy horse like love, pins come and go and are trusted at your peril

gonna need the cliff notes to comprehend that one amigo

if trump could do it, bernie could do it and wouldn't that be a horse-race?

life ain't easy for a boy named sue i see kim listed for fa's on dod's and flying swallow - what else did he do at beacon in the wild n' heady days of the lbj administration?

"if men were angels, there would be no need for government"

happy to see any and all old beacon lines cleaned and the gear brought up to modern snuff

not so far in the boondocks fo'shiz, it's less than driving to smith and indeed, much like leaning tower, especially the first pitch

ugh

ben rocked the circa 1998 disposable camera n' his ship finally came in the captain from middle cathedral on el cuatro de julio some famous guy, 4 days into our climb and just a couple hours into his the last pitch done in true "crack o'noon" conditions near the beer meter 33 of a 70 meter rope, post nasal condition

sounds like you already have plenty of ideas, now you just have to hope the weather don't suck i'd put stuart and dragontail high on your list - you can likely manage some cragging at least if the weather craps out.

pix in - couldn't bring meself to describe the on-the-way-home horror of a family van burnt to the waterline setting the whole i84 roadside alight

plain english, if'n yer into it http://www.canyoneeringnorthwest.com/EagleCreek/Eagle_Creek.php

Trip: Eagle Crick - Cascade Canyoneering Date: 8/1/2015 Trip Report: take heed,good people and gentle folk true, i purpose not to frame pointless tales or throw around haphazardly high-praise like "truly epic," yet this wet day did reel off so wonderfully i reckon it woeful indeed not to pipe it to the high heavens that is was in fact just that - a sad time now, to think that it, like all days, great and small, must die away into dim memory and slouch off towards Bethlehem to be born w/ the rest of those bitter bastards... the northwestern highly-evolved hominid must on some occasions make amends with hot days - days when the lack of air conditioning n' urban shade demand out-doors respite, to cool creeks and sunny sea-sides, to places where 17 1/2 years old doff their decent things and frolic freely for all to behold in the buff - fresh off from 3 days drifting about with the family 'twixt rainier and the olympic coast i returned to my teeming home in the late chill of evening to a proper invitation via email - eagle creek w/ them two white-boys, pinner-geoff n' whiskey-drunk bryan [video:youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NEOQCnQIsfE the loves at troutdale at 9 - big-boys of pbr curiously more economical than the pretty little cans i found - the hms revenge soon on the scene, cruising into the shade, the dyanimic duo tucked inside - my new mule, jebediah, packed up in jiffy for the short jaunt out past the dam a tide of humanity heaving its way into the parking lot, we take our turn, establish our presence and commence with sorting shit out - ropes - wet suits - harnesses - dry bags - beers - smokables - the other other 10 essentials - then we cast out down the trail like a gypsy-carnival cavorting our way up the easy hill, passing parcels of fools n' freaks n' females all rigged up to get their funk on in the pools ahead after an hour of humping we stumble-slide-fuck ourselves down to the shoreline below a mighty waterfall n' put on our war-suits, pound pabsts, n' push off into the frigid stream w/o a pause - a plethora of river-styles quickly sorted through - you move through this 'mazing universe the way you please: via the crocodile style, piscine paddle, hominid hobble and all the seamless evolutionary shifts that went between over the eons we peaked early this trip - too soon perhaps, but it gave me time to ponder over glory, and its the turning over of a thing in ones thinking-place that puts the mettle into the meat we pass a pack and pairs of panties and i prophesize the future - two females we'll find ahead, the augurs are clear - they'll be proud in their birthday suits and doing things upon each other that words will be weak to evince, and soon it was upon us good, good people - we could have put it to film but that would have poisoned the well and whipped the fates for their freely bestowed good graces - the world throws peaches into our pointless lives so infrequently, we must respect the power of good fortune, and fuck the rest two nimble and sylvan sylphs, sweet sirens sans wardrobes, playfully prescient and pretending at coyness, we paddle on by and try not to Look into the Light Too Long - 4 lovely tatas, totally exposed to the world with wet drops rolling down their turgid, taut skin - their eyes pass languidly over us, and ours theirs - painful, really, to behold, like jabing a white-hot poker of pleasure into the raw meat of the mind - holy shit leroy, i've seen the rodeo at last and i ain't never leaving time passes as the river itself, purging us of the pain this purgatory puts us to - every day i seem the same - mean and menacing to myself - angry and ambivalent, goaded and anxious in ever-tightening gyres - yet this day was sublime, all that stupid shit set aside me, the savage sun tamed by the sweetness of my fellow mammals n' their fine mammaries - nothing can take this memory from me, and please may it be so and so the day went in a world of wet pleasure - jumping off cliffs, laughing like jumped-up jazz musicians, heavy with head-medicine, making our way down a meandering creek encrusted with shade and light and ferns and drips and pools and boulders and all the bricabrack thrown down the river to collect in this green-tinted basement of time the rappel below the punchbowl like punching into the jurasic from just above - hooting like hopped-up monkeys, we make our barbaric yawps from the great gutter of the gorge - my brain filled with balming influences, stripped of suffering and pointless pretension, set free, free, free, free..... too soon these things pass, and soon then geoff come to grips with his dinner-plan in peril, infecting the crew with crude purpose - we've finished the last of the beers, so no reason not to put the whole thing behind us and rush to the exits - we regain the trail and pad down slowly behind a prancing pair of lovely ladies - too soon it's the car and the scorching heat and the godawful-grim consequences passed down to us by those cluster-fucked ancient ancestors who so unwisely left the sea stay in the water, sweet people, and you will see too in short order i promise back-swim'n geoff goes huge bastards on the beach punch drunk luv best...rap...ever? he who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man straight to grinder, ye ghey-love child concocted of the love-slurry of marvin gaye, john denver, evil keenivil n' neil diamond Gear Notes: 2 8 mm 60s life jacket smokables 72 ounces of pbr Approach Notes: up eagle creek w/ the cousins about an hour or so with plenty of pinners n' talk about our native heritage

88 mph

sometimes the ref needs to step in

there's at least a remote chance it's a meth-lab explosion