Dechristo

I have a pork stick.

yep, the one in Colorado. Now pay me the toll you tresspassing fuck. A beer will suffice.

I confess I led a climb of the bucking horse neon sign atop the Cowboy Bar in Pinedale Wyoming during the Mountain Man Rendezvous in August of '78. My partner clumsily kicked out most of the neon tubes while following resulting in over $5,000 of damages to the sign. After a stand-off with the gun-toting owner and two of his knife-wielding bouncers, the owner forgave us our debt and asked us to have a good time without damaging his establishment while continuing to buy his Myers Dark Rum and Cuervo 1800.

The south-west flank of the West Spanish Peak.

The barley wines usually carry a higher alcohol content, ergo, the "warm glow".

I pig-headedly accept adventure in most forms (even concrete forms) every day. Gotta love adventure to its last appearance and for as long as my body allows participation and acceptable performance.

It's probably not seasonal, but I was hooked-up recently with a beer that pleasingly imitates the taste of a stout brewed locally, Deschutes Brewery "Obsidian Stout". I've just killed the last one from my fridge so I'll have to move on to the standby low-brow Newcastle Browns.

At my computer, and at the mouth of a Deschutes Brewery "Obsidian Stout" bottle.

Thought I'd share a snippet of a report to my employer explaining the consequences of performing construction work at an elevation of 10,950 ft. It's bizarre that concrete trucks can drive to such an elevation... and that I've driven and worked near tree-line at this location for nearly six years. It's not climbing, per se, but definitely alpine... everday.

Time. And all of its ramifications of subjective cognitive rationality.

He's bobbin' a dawb alright.

This sonnuvvabitch made millions inventing the PlayDoh Fun Factory after shitting through his chaise lounge. editted for psycho-snaffle

"Hey! Liar! I don't see no booger."

socioeconomic theory

"Good. No unsightly nose hairs to scare away my date with the internet hoddy."

Having found their home-made guilotine worked, the kids used PlayDoh to re-attach Tigger's tail.

That's not a bib, it's a mouse pad.

Entertainment at it finest. I can't look away. If only there were sound, everything would be complete. Just let the soundtrack in your head play "The Macarena" while watching.

"72 virgins" does not specify species or gender.

True faith is beyond good and evil.

:minxbottom: in the seat she's been looking for.

Rage Against the Machine

Seriously, I can't justify defending that hill for long. I don't believe I really own anything anyway. It is tougher to climb any business/economic hill the more blood-sucking leeches the state attaches. ["blood-sucking leeches" emboldened for the benefit of the googlebots]