His rival had come with a Sure-Shot bolt gun,
And meant to take over his project.
Moosie climbed first and dropped,
He knew he’d been stopped,
And cratered a hole after he decked.
The story of Moosie.
ACCIDENTAL DEATH OR SUICIDE AT TIOGA SUMMIT?
A fall victim has been identified as Evian Pelleggino, of Lake Arrowhead, originally from Fern Spring, CA. He died yesterday afternoon while engaging in an illegal climb of the summit of Mt. Tioga, known locally as Middle Earth, and believed by many to be the abode of bird spirits, especially..
Police had him in custody early yesterday when he attended the nuptials of some friends who had recently salvaged a baking company but had recently refused him employment because of an addiction problem. He is shown here as he was trying to elude capture at that event after disrupting the ceremony itself by shouting, while running up and down the aisle of the converted church (once a bakery), “When she says forever, she means forever! She’ll haunt me into the future if you don’t give her to me to eat here and now! She’s bad for me, I know, God knows, but I gotta have her! She’s mine, she’s mine, she’s mine! And I want to live forever!”
Credit: mouse from merced
Credit: mouse from merced
Credit: mouse from merced
It’s believed he was speaking of Miss Twinkie 3,444,667, 044, a well-filled dish, and the intended bride of Mr. Twinkie 3, 445,667,888, a well-loved fill-anthropist million-air and a f-HUGE fan of the Grateful Air.
Many in attendance at the nuptials were reminded of the death of John Lennon, on the streets of New Yoko, thirty-four years ago today.
Don't try this anywhere else but at home!
Credit: mouse from merced
"Sue shot the sheriff, but she did not shoe shoot the sherrif's clown. That was Mouse."
Medical evaluation revealed that Pellegrino had enough sugar in his system to kill a horse. The photos show him as he sat on the ladder leading to the roof of the building known as Middle Earth, yelling at those below, and as he lay unconscious for several minutes before plummeting to the talus.
A medical examiner’s spokesman said, “There is no question that Mr. Pellegrino was dead before he hit the ground. His heart had stopped moments before. If you look closely, you can see the pellets in the head have settled, indicating no circulation and when blood pools, it cools.”
There is a general feeling that the death will be ruled a suicidal accident, according to the medical examiner. Said one person who witnessed the scene and took the photos here, MF, “We all think he would have jumped if he could stand, I’ve been in his position and condition. I’m sure he wanted relief. For
All along a Watchtower he held up in his hand, tore it all to pieces and he gave it to the band.
Awake and play a song for me that promises no death, He said, as he ran out of breath.
The new business is open and it's going great. No better time to wed.
Credit: mouse from merced
Mr. Pellegrino, having tried to elude the rent-a-cops, was slowed in his escape by his captured Mini-Donettes.
Tonya knew what to serve. [Secret Raider-baiter if ya ask me.]
Credit: mouse from merced
the Raiders lost.
Geo LaF did not laugh.
What it says on your neck, Georgie. "Sh#t happens."
Credit: mouse from merced
The little dog, bud-E did not laugh. He makes no bones about his devotion to Al Davis. He is too young to have known Al, RIP & good riddance, Hall of Fame or not. I really hated his know-it-all, Las Vegas, smarmy, wannabe chairman crap. He had "excell
Credit: mouse from merced
Anita Marie knew how to act. She's got the rest of her life to wait around for another Super Bowl title. George is getting OLD at 26.
Credit: mouse from merced
And the nine-nines won, and the Broncos are gonna crush!.
So that's the dawn, a little "after seven."
Credit: mouse from merced
And then the sunclipse, not even five, let alone "after five."
Credit: mouse from merced
That would tie today up with a nice bow, the Raiders, my teams, sunrises and sets, sights and sunclipses, pigeons and crows and the news that the rooftop is definitely off-limits on the word of Vern, my friend who is night manager and co-wizard in Middle Earth.
I paid a visit this morn, tripod in hand. He informed me that even as occupants, much less "tenants" the two of them cannot go out on the roof at all except in the event of a fire, heading for the fire escape. Bummer. They pay rent, cuz it's deducted or written off--they both work in the building.
EZ come, some damn bum
is gonna snitch ya out, always.
Feeble snow lion shot from the fire escape this afternoon. Feeble snow cloud, too.
Credit: mouse from merced
And then I decided to truck out to Planada to photograph the snow lion on the foothills, but the battery was in the charger was in the wall was at home FORK-IN-THE_ROAD! Don't take it so hard, old fart...memory is made of lapses, too.
Oh, I almost forgot, again...yet!
Selene, half-tanked herself.
Credit: mouse from merced
I saw the moon sitting there, all right-side up again after the spirits righted her, and she tells me this story.
My private plane, cruising at low altitude, slowly.
Credit: mouse from merced
This bird flies up near it and the moon says, "Are you THE Bird?"
And the bird replies, "Do you see a cape?"
Credit: mouse from merced
It's only snow. WTF, eh? Not like it happens regularly down to a thousand feet! I'll leave the snow to Montucky, I gueth.
The tholthtith approcheth with a vengeanth, thorter dayth are the thing now.
Ex - orb - it- tant - rum: What you enact when you look at the doctor bill.
You literally go out of this world.
Albeit, the alternative, going out of this world PERMANENT-LIKE, sucks the wee knee, the big weenie, and the life's blood out of you.
Do not be Squamish (you climb ice and all--we know) about the hacking and gouging and burning and scabbing.
It will make you stronger.
That's okay, because you'll be getting some Mitchum in the mail from Secret Santa--see the current SS thread, buncha nazis wouldn't let me post my Christmas Carol on their thread last year--and that should leave you smelling sweet, I hope.
For those who've no Christmas balls in their sack,
I've relented a bit, for there's no harm in it.
For them don't like boobs, pins or dolls in their rack,
I've chosen to include this Carol-filled skit.
It's Alan Alda.
Merry Christ M*A*S*H!!!!
HI-LARRY-OUS!!!!!
"What am I supposed to do--ear this gaudy old red robe with my old yellow slipper?"
Nawmeans to have something cut off or away or altered or repaired or sick then well.
I'm walking the line
Just barely enough
I'm keepin' the rest of my fingers!
For a long time I felt without style or grace
Wearing shoes with no socks in cold weather
I knew my heart was in the right place
I knew I'd be able to do these things
Fail.
Credit: mouse from merced
And as we watch him digging his own grave
It is important to know that was where he's at
He can't afford to stop, that is what he believe
He'll keep on digging for a thousand years
I'm a grasshopper.
Credit: mouse from merced
I'm walking a line, I'm thinking about empty motion
I'm walking a line, just barely enough to be living
Why do flames die? Where they go is an equal mystery.
That's the wine talkin', Tannin Tightrope.
Merry Christmoss to thee!
Kate, CJ, and No, the Mossback Trio. And friends.
Credit: mouse from merced
Lack of fuel, air, or oxygen, Virginia.
Only you can prevent Rim fires.
What's in Santa's pipe?
I think it's time for Yule Tell No Lies.
Arlo, would you do the routine?
Why in heck?
It's a rotten world, is why. Punks abound and PO-lice can't tell any difference because they only beat on the one they're with. THEY HAVE BACON IN THEIR EARS!
Credit: mouse from merced
Thanks, Andy, I sure needed that "TOUCH."
YOU reached OUT to ME!
Christmas or the mundane?
I choose Christmas, over every day.
The season is the reason I'm so gay.
Keeping up with the Christmas Spirits makes me dizzier than...
hmmm...
it'll come...
give it time...
smoke another bowl...
aha!
Like a fish found floating in a whirlpool on the Moke in low water.
Say I wish it was May already...older I get the colder I stay. But I'm not goin' out today, no place but near here to Middle Earth.
Secretive Santa, a little old lady from Pasadena, sent this to me and it came yesterday.
Credit: mouse from merced
I promised I'd be here, didn't I?
Credit: mouse from merced
Who would willingly leave in this cold when a perfectly good mail carrier is going to deliver COOKIES and CHEER!?
Not I, said the mouse.
I was plussed yesterday. Big time plussed (as opposed to non-plussed, which means you maintain your aplomb, even though your ankle is swollen, your food's gone, your partner's got the Willies, and you have to peel off several layers to do it...it's called ALPINISM), because I got twice-blessed with post.
I got not just the wonderful book of Patagonia images, I also received in the mail the new 2014 calendar from the local Hicktorial Society here.
Back page of the MCHS 2014 calendar shows the building which houses Second Time Around Used Books, for which I used to shill & shelve.
Credit: mouse from merced
Thrice blessed, if you toss in the complimentary letter that the director of the MCHS museum sent to thank me for taking the photos I did on Dec. 1, when they had the Christmas Open House.
I thought, without looking at the sender's address, that this was the package you had intended to sended. But it turned out it was just a cruddy ole used book. :)
MY THANKS, BLUELENS! Awesome gift, so little to choose from out there in the photography coffee table book market, huh? I love USED books. They sometimes have some forgetful reader's cash stashed in them!
I looooove me some oatmeal cookies! With melty pepper jack cheese on 'em and a glass of mulled wine or espresso. De luxe cordon bleu Duncan Hines 4-star ratings are hard to come by. Hope these are worth the ANTICIPATION!
Credit: mouse from merced
I had to do a double take on the cover photo of the Pata-book. I KNOW her, I thought. This is NOT neebee on the cover, though it's possible (anything's possible!), I thought, it's unlikely as heck and implausible totally!
neebee, the insomniacal painter on INSOMNIA? Bucket or not, it's too freakin' funny to think about.
Sorry, n00bee, just had to chuck that out by the fire so to say!
My upstairs neighbor, George LaFrance, is a typical Raider fan, yes, ThisJust In.
You may have noticed the screed when I mentioned Foul Davis earlier.
This is GeoLaF's big screen, mostly tuned to Madden Football.
Credit: mouse from merced
His neck tattoo reads Sh#t on the left, Happens on the right. Or it could be the other way around, so cheek the photograph.
This leg tat is GeoLaF's wife Tonya's. Her "little bug" Anita Marie, up above there^^^, was the reason for the decoration / reminder.
Credit: mouse from merced
His typicality is based on his ability to collect food stamps and walls full of Raider crap, which costs more than most, probably, the way Devil Davis worked it for so long. How the hell did he afford to live in Montclair otherwise? And why live there when the team's in LA. Damn, he got me started on THE ANTI-CHRIST!
The Anti-Christmas tree in GeoLaF's living room, the photo deliberately NOT showing all the Raiders crap on the walls.
Credit: mouse from merced
Why couldn't you ask about the mole on zBrown's neck instead?
I just wanted to get drunk and forget about the Raiders going to LA. My sister-in-law lived down Ventura Co. way and adopted them as a fan. It was a bone of contention and then became a laugh-aloud when they came home to the Bay Area.
And then they started that Raider Nation juve! I tellya! Next time I see a Raider flag, a quick trip to the bar!
ARE YOU READY FOR SOME FOOTBALL Shift HATE-TALKING?
"I feel sorry for the gal that married dead old Al."--The Ballad of Blacks' Hole
You notice the BULK of the PUNKS are not BLACK, but SILVER & BLACK?
They have a reason for not calling it the SILVER HOLE.
It's called the Broncos.
I'm calling a shift, right. Go HOWIE LONG, the only one to make it REALLY big after retirement.
There is more cheese in marketing the Raiders on the local, Oakland level, it embarrasses the hell out of Green Bay fans! The ineptitude of the commentators on the local level, well...
THAT SUCKS, TOO!
How's that, Al? You only hired broke-down ex-players who know no decent English and have a vocabu-Larry, but no vocal skills beyond muttering sweet nadas lacking originality, just toeing Al's party line, "We are the Raiders, therefore we are excellent." What a lazy bunch of scared pussies ran around that Alameda den of iniquity. They hung around bad bars back in the day, and that was okay with the fans, who loved stories of bar brawls and consumption of whatever in quantity. And he had the nerve to ply us with that Commitment booshiff in spite of it. Good marketing, no kidding, but running out on the ones upon whose devotion you built your empire of ugly losses and embarrassing moments is the true nadir of the Raider Nation. Jim Plunkett's a fine quarterback, but he can't lead a discussion or read the writing on the wall, which says...
"RAIDERS WHO BROADCAST LOCALLY SUCK!"
The fans don't necessarily suck, it's just that I felt like a jilted lover back in the early eighties, and then along came Bill Walsh. He was a Giant, and he was a Saint, and he was a 49er all at once. A true GOD!
Credit: GI
"Straight from the mouse's horsehit pile."--see page top
Go to Youtube, play this, then wait two or three seconds and play the video blow the link.
Do you see it?
I'm kinda amazed I even thought of this echo thing, but I guess it goes back to when Jeff's dad installed that re-verb unit in the Impala.
Sinead O'Connor / Silent Night http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=87q5dmW6zDg
Angels being heard down low.
Since we are solo, the thing to do is to wake up Carlow aka Marlow we all know and who drives a one-horse open sled no matter which thread through which he may head.
A woman at the wheel. BELIEVE IT OR NOT, Officer.
Credit: mouse from merced
Mr. Jingle is here, dear! He can see you, you are sleeping. Can you hear sled horns BOMPing? Can you hear reindeer STOMPing? Are you eagerly CHOMPing at the bit for presents or cookies or lumps of koa charcoal?
Reinero's Racing, Santa at the fore. This happens to be just passing by Reinero's Restaurant--same fam damily, cousins--that is across from Mid-Earth.
Credit: mouse from merced
Just what DO Norskis Dieuw during the fest of us, Chrymussy-wise. Enlighten us, Osage of the Midnight Dusk.
Dave's short. 5'4". His rear end jacks higher than his chest. He can't ride all that low as a result.
Credit: mouse from merced
But take your time and ride lower than normal, the magic sled's practicing low-level stunts.
Cheech and Tommy got a new ride now. They can afford it. And there were ladies wearing Red Hats here just a moment before.
Credit: mouse from merced
You don't expect anyone to buy this thread, do you? Where's the climbing content, the CC?
Credit: mouse from merced
"Been hitting the window pane again, Mouse?"--theLobLolly
![Tonya knew what to serve. [Secret Raider-baiter if ya ask me.]](http://www.supertopo.com/photos/21/27/334222_29532_L.jpg)
Let us know!