To the cur-rency skeptic: I not only truly autograph each printout of these fine artworks with a genuine Bic ballpoint pen, but I'll congratulate you by name above it, and even sign a letter and write a note on it specifically to you. We may not be handing out tangible gifts, but I will ladle out that intangible luvvvvv.
When my sister and BIL were dating or newly married, they went camping in Wisconsin, possibly with friends. My BIL must not have ever gone camping. My sister lost it when she realized he brought his shoe trees, those things you put in your shoes to keep them in shape.
The answers can use either six of the letters or all 7. Note that a number of this week's inking entries have six letters. (One entry sneaked in there with a mere five letters, but it has since been banished.)
There's a kind of camping ("camping") I can get behind where you stay in a nice cabin somewhere in or adjacent to nature and have access to general amenities, and the trip is about light outdoorsy recreation and being able to retreat back to comfort afterwards. And there's a kind of camping I can get behind where you are way the hell out in the middle of nowhere with nothing but whatever gear you have on you, and the trip is about being completely away from civilization and at one with nature. The kind of camping I absolutely cannot stand is going to a crappy campground and pitching a tent in what is effectively a parking lot 20 feet away from some other jackhole who is doing the same thing. That to me is basically pretending to be homeless.
Unfortunately, many, if not most, private campgrounds are Hellholes you mention at the end of your post. We've found that state parks are a much better option. Camping in the middle of nowhere can be great, but the logistics of travel and campsite set-up can take considerable time and effort.
"When you tell us it’s too cold in the room, we will say we are working on it, but we aren’t. There are 500 other people in there…not everyone feels the same."
I used to play in an 18-piece swing band. We would play weddings and invariably, an "elder" (usually the grandmother of the bride) would be seated in the first row of tables, RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE 18-PIECE BAND. After a couple of songs, we'd get "It's TOO LOUD! TURN IT DOWN!" Like these people didn't grow up in the 40's listening to live 18-piece bands. So, our leader would say we're going to take of it and wave his hands over the sound board, changing nothing. After the next song, he would ask whoever it was that wanted it turned down if it was better and they ALWAYS said yes.
Yeah, I have to pause from reading to just absolutely 'WOW!!' over Chester the Molester. Holy mother of god, I'm glad I never, ever knew this before. Can I un-know it, please??
Your tow truck driver anecdote warmed my heart. I love meeting theater-lovers in unexpected places.
My daughter was driving my 2001 Honda this past weekend and also had to be rescued by a warm-hearted tow driver. I imagine these folks must see it all.
Sorry. Couldn't help myself what with all this talk of Guccione, Flynt and comics in the same blog. The unfamiliar terms are widely available on the interweb.
I said she had no Goldie Hawn-related regrets. I didn't say she had no experiences. Although, in fact, I asked and she had none. I am told that Goldie was one of the theatre kids and their paths really didn't cross.
At one time was an avid minimalist of the, "Take nothing but pictures. Leave nothing but footprints." school of camping and outdoorsmanship, in general. Quite possibly because of a thankfully relatively short previous period, where I had little to no choice of accommodations in not very hospitable surroundings. Still occasionally venture into the backwoods, pitch a tent and wet a line, although the woods seem to be rapidly becoming more like a Disney theme park with each passing year. Not saying you have to do a "Jeremiah Johnson" to enjoy the wilderness, but I draw the line at motorized vehicles (mobility devices excepted) beyond designated parking areas. At least I do. Others ---some places --- not so much. Then there is "glamping." I guess that trend (if it's still trending) strikes me as even more Disneyesque. Again, there's nothing that says you have to suffer when communing with Ma Nature --- and the gear available today makes that unlikely, unless you're going for masochism --- but a yurt with an en suite bathroom, satellite TV and internet and choppered in gourmet meals in the middle of pristine (or what used to be) wilderness strikes a discordant note with me. For those unfamiliar with this portmanteau of "glamorous" and "camping" here are some hints (offered, of course, with tongue in cheek).
You might be glamping if:
*Instead of toilet paper you're provided with kale
I heard Larry Flynt gave a gift subscription to all members of Congress. If one complained, he would stop it. Very few did. I think most viewed it as a trap that Flynt would target them for hypocrisy if they found the magazine offensive and then did something publicly that was offensive.
Annie Lamott is funny when she got a humourous indoctrination to Judaism. She was told she shall not camp because the escaping Jews in Egypt had to wander in the wildernesss for 40 years eating nothing but manna, and that was enough camping for a civilization.
To the cur-rency skeptic: I not only truly autograph each printout of these fine artworks with a genuine Bic ballpoint pen, but I'll congratulate you by name above it, and even sign a letter and write a note on it specifically to you. We may not be handing out tangible gifts, but I will ladle out that intangible luvvvvv.
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1I9fJJkvw5QZJcdcr-oJaOQ-Yn5zPeuCom5fYN906BTI/edit
When my sister and BIL were dating or newly married, they went camping in Wisconsin, possibly with friends. My BIL must not have ever gone camping. My sister lost it when she realized he brought his shoe trees, those things you put in your shoes to keep them in shape.
A non-inking entry from Week 963's Portmanteau name contest:
Jor-El Greco: SuperMan Ray's Kryptonian dada.
This week's ink-getters were especially good, including the winners (who also had excellent honorable mentions)! Loved it!
Yeah, but this entry has a typo (the R is missing; I believe it belongs between the A and the L):
AUYDLRN > YALDUN: What a Southern waitress asks before clearing your table. (Jesse Frankovich, Laingsburg, Mich.)
The answers can use either six of the letters or all 7. Note that a number of this week's inking entries have six letters. (One entry sneaked in there with a mere five letters, but it has since been banished.)
I just went back and looked -- I see just three 6-letter ones and one 5-letter one (GI MOE -- before banishment?)
There's a kind of camping ("camping") I can get behind where you stay in a nice cabin somewhere in or adjacent to nature and have access to general amenities, and the trip is about light outdoorsy recreation and being able to retreat back to comfort afterwards. And there's a kind of camping I can get behind where you are way the hell out in the middle of nowhere with nothing but whatever gear you have on you, and the trip is about being completely away from civilization and at one with nature. The kind of camping I absolutely cannot stand is going to a crappy campground and pitching a tent in what is effectively a parking lot 20 feet away from some other jackhole who is doing the same thing. That to me is basically pretending to be homeless.
Maybe it's because I'm a female, but no way am I staying anywhere that demands I pee and poop in the woods.
Unfortunately, many, if not most, private campgrounds are Hellholes you mention at the end of your post. We've found that state parks are a much better option. Camping in the middle of nowhere can be great, but the logistics of travel and campsite set-up can take considerable time and effort.
An Invitational Dead Letters tribute to Guccione:
Here's to Bob Guccione, purveyor of porn,
A man whose demise only guys seem to mourn.
His Penthouse had pics far more graphic than Playboy's
(If Mom caught you looking, you'd better just pray, boys).
The centerfold photos showed nipples on boobs,
And they broke the taboo against publishing pubes.
What, then, got us to switch from this mogul of print?
A magazine hustler named Larry C. Flynt.
My free verse contribution: Skin. Flynt.
"When you tell us it’s too cold in the room, we will say we are working on it, but we aren’t. There are 500 other people in there…not everyone feels the same."
I used to play in an 18-piece swing band. We would play weddings and invariably, an "elder" (usually the grandmother of the bride) would be seated in the first row of tables, RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE 18-PIECE BAND. After a couple of songs, we'd get "It's TOO LOUD! TURN IT DOWN!" Like these people didn't grow up in the 40's listening to live 18-piece bands. So, our leader would say we're going to take of it and wave his hands over the sound board, changing nothing. After the next song, he would ask whoever it was that wanted it turned down if it was better and they ALWAYS said yes.
Yeah, I have to pause from reading to just absolutely 'WOW!!' over Chester the Molester. Holy mother of god, I'm glad I never, ever knew this before. Can I un-know it, please??
Your tow truck driver anecdote warmed my heart. I love meeting theater-lovers in unexpected places.
My daughter was driving my 2001 Honda this past weekend and also had to be rescued by a warm-hearted tow driver. I imagine these folks must see it all.
I love being in nature. But I want a bed and a shower afterwards.
Sorry. Couldn't help myself what with all this talk of Guccione, Flynt and comics in the same blog. The unfamiliar terms are widely available on the interweb.
https://worldwideinterweb.com/dirtiest-moments-in-comic-book/
Not sure Guccione died from jumping off the Marriott. Wiki says he had lung cancer and died in Texas.
It was the editor-in-chief, George Caragonne who died by suicide.
This is correct. Guccione did not kill hisself! It was his subsidiary publisher who did.
Of course, it's correct. I'm me.
Guccione wasn't the aforementioned publisher of Penthouse Comix. Check the Wiki page for the latter.
Ah. Thanks.
I said she had no Goldie Hawn-related regrets. I didn't say she had no experiences. Although, in fact, I asked and she had none. I am told that Goldie was one of the theatre kids and their paths really didn't cross.
At one time was an avid minimalist of the, "Take nothing but pictures. Leave nothing but footprints." school of camping and outdoorsmanship, in general. Quite possibly because of a thankfully relatively short previous period, where I had little to no choice of accommodations in not very hospitable surroundings. Still occasionally venture into the backwoods, pitch a tent and wet a line, although the woods seem to be rapidly becoming more like a Disney theme park with each passing year. Not saying you have to do a "Jeremiah Johnson" to enjoy the wilderness, but I draw the line at motorized vehicles (mobility devices excepted) beyond designated parking areas. At least I do. Others ---some places --- not so much. Then there is "glamping." I guess that trend (if it's still trending) strikes me as even more Disneyesque. Again, there's nothing that says you have to suffer when communing with Ma Nature --- and the gear available today makes that unlikely, unless you're going for masochism --- but a yurt with an en suite bathroom, satellite TV and internet and choppered in gourmet meals in the middle of pristine (or what used to be) wilderness strikes a discordant note with me. For those unfamiliar with this portmanteau of "glamorous" and "camping" here are some hints (offered, of course, with tongue in cheek).
You might be glamping if:
*Instead of toilet paper you're provided with kale
*The mosquitos fly in formation
*Your bidet is a plumbed geyser
*Your yurt comes with its own Mongol shaman
I heard Larry Flynt gave a gift subscription to all members of Congress. If one complained, he would stop it. Very few did. I think most viewed it as a trap that Flynt would target them for hypocrisy if they found the magazine offensive and then did something publicly that was offensive.
Annie Lamott is funny when she got a humourous indoctrination to Judaism. She was told she shall not camp because the escaping Jews in Egypt had to wander in the wildernesss for 40 years eating nothing but manna, and that was enough camping for a civilization.