Can you hear the music?
Running, juking and jiving
Slipping, sliding and striving
Dancing, moving and grooving
Rocking and rolling and rocking and rolling.
Time was, we could be free to ride our machines
Without being hassled BY THE MAN.
===
There are times when I miss California.
Well, not really the gridlock, congested, smog, douchebag, hair gel, righteous granola, natural resource gobbling, illegal immigrant exploiting agricultural conglomeration, race riot, real estate market, meth lab, pave paradise and put up a parking lot, traffic traffic traffic traffic people people people people California.
No, what I'm talking about is the lazy sunshine beach cruiser, dudes who never seem to work and drink beers on Tuesday afternoons on the Strand, dolphins underneath longboards, Mexican food that cannot be replicated anywhere else, playing volleyball on white sand, flip-flop out door lunches where you squint under your umbrella, seagulls on the pier, convertible rolling, screw everything and everyone East of PCH, North of Manhattan Beach and South of Redondo California.
Know what I'm sayin'?
===
What is love?
Like Justice Potter Stewart said, in trying to define obscenity, "I don't know, but I know it when I see it."
Puck is about to celebrate his 15th birthday, which is roughly 105 in people years, which makes him immortal in the world of yellow labradors.
And if you are looking for an answer... ^^^ that is Love.
===
I met a guy today for coffee. I have to say it was one of the more entertaining and interesting conversations I have had. He worked actively for the government from the late 60's through the 90's, and after that as a consultant in the field of counter-terrorism and psy-ops.
He's famous, and that's all I am going to say that could identify him, since, I'd like to keep my identity, and I don't want to be tagged for a cavity search every time I fly.
This dude was an absolute live wire. He had been in Nicaragua, Iran, Somalia, Afghanistan, the U.S.S.R. (back in the day), Indonesia, China, Northern Ireland, Syria, Jordan, Colombia, Peru, and Burma... among others.
Basically every political hotspot since Nixon, on the periphery, doing a little bit of this and that, and high-rolling in Washington with heavy hitters.
He told me that he Osama Bin Laden has been dead for at least four years, that he knows a guy (who knows a guy) that "the company" has his doctor and his medical records, and that the disease he had at the time of 9/11 was fatal and certain to result in death within a period of months.
He said he would bet a million euro, or the equivalent in my currency of choice excepting the dollar, that Osama was dead.
((Of course, I took the bet, because he's going to need to cough up some serious DNA evidence to prove he's dead, while all I need is some photoshopped video or a legit terrorist strike. Besides, 8,101,710 Norwegian Krone is chump change, and he knows it.))
I'd tell you that I am not making this up (((except for me accepting the bet))), but... who could make this up anyway?
Oh, and I could not stop staring at his wrist, which was encircled by a bracelet of small, sterling silver skulls, not unlike the one on Keith Richard's ring.
Regardless, the limitations of my writing skill and discretion prevent me from painting a full picture.
It was the craziest coffee I have ever had.
And, NSA?
This is a complete work of fiction. I highly value my social security number, my credit record and the accuracy of my tax returns.
===
I fear this post contains too many words. Screw it, nobody reads this anyway.
Hardly anybody, anyway.
No offense to those of you who actually do.
Read, that is.
Slipping, sliding and striving
Dancing, moving and grooving
Rocking and rolling and rocking and rolling.
Time was, we could be free to ride our machines
Without being hassled BY THE MAN.
===
There are times when I miss California.
Well, not really the gridlock, congested, smog, douchebag, hair gel, righteous granola, natural resource gobbling, illegal immigrant exploiting agricultural conglomeration, race riot, real estate market, meth lab, pave paradise and put up a parking lot, traffic traffic traffic traffic people people people people California.
No, what I'm talking about is the lazy sunshine beach cruiser, dudes who never seem to work and drink beers on Tuesday afternoons on the Strand, dolphins underneath longboards, Mexican food that cannot be replicated anywhere else, playing volleyball on white sand, flip-flop out door lunches where you squint under your umbrella, seagulls on the pier, convertible rolling, screw everything and everyone East of PCH, North of Manhattan Beach and South of Redondo California.
Know what I'm sayin'?
===
What is love?
Like Justice Potter Stewart said, in trying to define obscenity, "I don't know, but I know it when I see it."
Puck is about to celebrate his 15th birthday, which is roughly 105 in people years, which makes him immortal in the world of yellow labradors.
And if you are looking for an answer... ^^^ that is Love.
===
I met a guy today for coffee. I have to say it was one of the more entertaining and interesting conversations I have had. He worked actively for the government from the late 60's through the 90's, and after that as a consultant in the field of counter-terrorism and psy-ops.
He's famous, and that's all I am going to say that could identify him, since, I'd like to keep my identity, and I don't want to be tagged for a cavity search every time I fly.
This dude was an absolute live wire. He had been in Nicaragua, Iran, Somalia, Afghanistan, the U.S.S.R. (back in the day), Indonesia, China, Northern Ireland, Syria, Jordan, Colombia, Peru, and Burma... among others.
Basically every political hotspot since Nixon, on the periphery, doing a little bit of this and that, and high-rolling in Washington with heavy hitters.
He told me that he Osama Bin Laden has been dead for at least four years, that he knows a guy (who knows a guy) that "the company" has his doctor and his medical records, and that the disease he had at the time of 9/11 was fatal and certain to result in death within a period of months.
He said he would bet a million euro, or the equivalent in my currency of choice excepting the dollar, that Osama was dead.
((Of course, I took the bet, because he's going to need to cough up some serious DNA evidence to prove he's dead, while all I need is some photoshopped video or a legit terrorist strike. Besides, 8,101,710 Norwegian Krone is chump change, and he knows it.))
I'd tell you that I am not making this up (((except for me accepting the bet))), but... who could make this up anyway?
Oh, and I could not stop staring at his wrist, which was encircled by a bracelet of small, sterling silver skulls, not unlike the one on Keith Richard's ring.
Regardless, the limitations of my writing skill and discretion prevent me from painting a full picture.
It was the craziest coffee I have ever had.
And, NSA?
This is a complete work of fiction. I highly value my social security number, my credit record and the accuracy of my tax returns.
===
I fear this post contains too many words. Screw it, nobody reads this anyway.
Hardly anybody, anyway.
No offense to those of you who actually do.
Read, that is.
posted by Joe at
8:20 PM
8 Comments
