The knee is doing well given all the attention ive been giving it. Will be on the stick all week for sure which means everyone will start calling me House, just like last time this happened. Back then I didnt know who House was, now of course I do. I dont mind the association one bit.
Late last night I stepped out with some homies for dinner and drinks at Mission here in West and today of course I couldnt resist the call of Tony Hawks Treasure Hunt so Ive been using the leg to some degree, but carefully. Using the stick for walking is decent, but using it to shake at things and remind people I am disabled is double decent. People stare at me, I look at them and remind them Im disabled. People walk past me to fast and I tell them to slow down, Im disabled. I really like being disabled. If someone is staring at me from across a room, I pound my cane on the floor with a thud and mouth silently: “wtf”. There are more stories about my communicative disability behaviours in public but I think my mother has been hanging around here lately and I would hate to tarnish any goodwill she may have towards me: your favorite social luminary. Ask anyone who has been around, they will tell you a few doozies. Dont ever ask me for spare change if you see me with a cane, or tell people you work in hotels when you really dont. I will viscerate you with my stick. My blood red stick, which i hold dear and close.
I dont think I will ski next weekend, at least to any degree. We will see how it holds out, stay tuned.
Anyone know where I can get the blue placard for special parking? I need 3 total.
Thanks for reading, thanks for caring.
Hench.

Before all of that, I spent a number of years deep underground in a hard rock Silver mine straddled just below the Montana/Idaho border and its the same thing with the scent of that place: wild and unforgiving, yet warm and authentic. We would sit in the shack every morning before dawn and wait for the skip to take us a mile and half underground and in those moments I never forgot the sharpness of surly miners next to me with a chaw tucked under the gum, a coffee in hand and a room full of lunchbuckets that all smelled of the same thing: blasting powder and precious metals. The door would open, admitting a winter blast and amidst the good natured cursing at the latecomer, the alpine air gripped your lungs as you hunkered against it….stirring the air and mixing deeper into the smell of real labor..the smell of this great Country.

This is silver/ore miner ######### whom I shared both shifts and cigarettes with for a number of years, taken by my dear friend Sadie Lortz.

Even then as a young buck I knew it was something special, to me: something rare. Ive never met a finer bunch of boys than the outfit over at Lucky Friday Mine in Mullan, Idaho. For all the times I should’ve never survived down there, they took me in and taught me just about everything I know about how to live your life not just with grit alone, but also with care. I always figured that those are the days that saved my life, those are the years where I came up, some of you Ive known since those days and you can bear witness to that. I watched alot of young thunderheads go through that joint when I was there, and none of them came out well, the mines have a way of sorting out the idiots; some days I hated that hole more than anything I’d ever known but I always hung in there and I never once took for granted my status as “the kid”; every day I was lucky to learn from the likes of the the lifers down there. I will stop now before I wax reminiscent and start talking stories.

Nowadays, once in a while come Winter I wake up late in the night in my motorhome to the rumble of front end loaders clearing out the thoroughfare in the motorhome ski lots;  so I shrug into my coat and stumble outside to stand in the wild mountain air that smells that special way only at those late hours, blended with the diesel exhaust of the loaders pushing snow and it takes me back, I lean against my rig in the darkness and smile at the goodness of life, then slip quietly back to bed…happy to have lived this far, happier still that I’ve known that smell the way its meant to be known and that it will forever swirl quietly around my beating heart.

We are heading deep into the the high country tonight, caravanning our wagon train headlong into the blizzard. This marks day one of the Great Blowout, stay tuned to TwitGrinder for all your favorite booze soaked details.

See you all on the other side.

During the recovery process, Chito stayed by Pocho’s side, even sleeping with him at night.
‘I just wanted him to feel that someone loved him, that not all humans are bad,’ Chito says. ‘I love all animals, especially ones that have suffered. It meant a lot of sacrifice. I had to be there every day.’

*I give you the: Croc Cuddler.

*Irish Bog Butter some 3000 years old is discovered. Put your toaster down…

*This is the incredible tale of a man who free-fell 10,000 feet and survived, something amazing but initially..somewhat boring. I add the link not for nothing though, its the final paragraph in the story that catches the eye: Outrageous story of survival to be stored here and researched later.

*what in fuck is wrong with our species….

Ask me if Im spoiled. Or dont.

Road warrior will induce drinking and crude jokes late at night around a fire.

*Constellation releases its 2nd issue into the wild.

*Text as Art has caught my eye;  I like the concept because we see this daily just how often is it art though? Thats up to you.
Road Hack tutorials came out first in the early 90′s with 2400 doing a great series on these and other great hacks, its funny to see the re-emergence of this now. Society must be bored, certainly easily amused.

*BloodScience: The Irish government is also believed to be involved.

*forgotten site: check Improv Everywhere

*Coding Horror: archived here for further study.

*fresh wave of Skullduggery in Somalia’s pirate-infested waters.

What if our aforementioned pedo-ass had instead fled to Israel, I hear they marry young there. As we all know well by now however; I suggest lettting the mature.

Circle the tranny-wagons! Abrew is a bubbling stew of emotion.  Surprising on many levels; Seattle doth enjoy a good protesty protest, doth it notteth? Go forth and march knaves and wenches….. Do what you must. As usual i will watch and chuckle at the uselessness of every march you’ve ever done. What you should be doing is cruising craigslist…for cock jobs. Lesson here: while any beating/racism/intolerance is never a good thing…..neither is prancing around city streets in the wee hours dressed like a seaman little sailor-boy. Next time take a cab so thugs dont end up swabbing the deck with your face. Its called being pragmatically proactive. Try it out.

Tutorial: How to plan a successful jailbreak.

Tutorial: How not to smuggle massive amounts of cocaine

Tutorial: what to buy your favourite pirate/hooligan who runs a shoddy website out of Seattle and should be behind bars by now yet somehow stays free long enough to drink another day.