Running With Scissors Since 1999
am not) The Blue Bear
Bee Dies for the Homeland
Warning to OrbEarth
God Hate Spokane?
to the Fire Room
Perfect Haunted House
I Learned from
Onions with Zemek
I helped Jesse
The full series is online!
NYC 100 Hour Film Race
NYC 24 Hour Film Race
Protests Cruelty to Fish
MORE OF MY ViDEOS
Day - Day of the Dick
the Mighty Kootenai
Go to my IMDb site, unless you have laundry to do or something.
MY TRIP(Y) CLIPS
Klamath River Whale
EARLY CREEPY COLLABORATIONS
AND EVEN MORE
with Arp Xigar
making of MEAT
Moron Show 7/2/05
MY ViDEO SHORTS
Heeere's my face
Other Past Issues
OtherSpokane.com is protected speech pursuant to the "inalienable rights" of all men, and the First (or even the Second) Amendment to the Constitution of the United States of America. Don't tread on me, pretty-please.
This is an archive edition.
In the early 1800s, if you wanted to send a letter from
St. Louis to San Francisco, it had to be sent overland to the Gulf of
Mexico, then by ship to Panama, where it was freighted across the isthmus
to the Pacific, then taken by ship to Frisco - which took ... well, a long
time ... if it got there at all. With the development of the Butterfield
Overland Mail Trail - a stagecoach that also carried six passengers, and
passed just a few miles from where my humble abode now sits in the Yuma
desert - the trip took about 24 days. Today you can drive it in about 30
hours, or you can fly it in about four and a half hours. And now, of
course, you can send a letter in the time it takes to hit the send button.
Trump is like that cute little puppy you got and let it
chew on the couch leg and nip at your hand and then you realize a few
months later that your house is torn apart, there's shit all over, and the
school kid next door has a big chunk ripped from her neck.
to Patriot Fest at
the Marine base this morning. Booyah! (Yeah, they really do say that.) An
horrifically unorganized event: Once on the base, there was no real
indication of where you were supposed to go to park, other than plentiful
soldiers waving their arms wildly and saying, "Not that way! Not that
way!" It took six grunts to direct me into a parking lot, each one
giving different hand signals. Security guards wouldn't let me in the
first time because my pen knife set off the metal detector, and they made
me return it to my car. The second time I set it off the alarm again and a
different soldier told me to just go ahead and go in because "it's
probably nothing." Once inside, each exhibit - jets and choppers and
stuff - were manned (or womaned) by an intelligent and informative young
officer who actually flew the craft. Still, throughout the entire event,
an old marine babbled continuously over the intercom: "I wasn't smart
enough to pass the Navy test but the Marines signed me right up ... I told
the barber a little off the sides and he shaved me bald! Ha! ... I got
injured once and I see some young things here that could give me some good
mouth-to-mouth." When I exited, I was directed onto a dirt road as
bad as many in the open desert. Booyah!
and spies have in common: isolation, loss of perspective,
grandiosity, alcoholism, and a willingness to lie and call it something
Scientists say it's
more stressful to be a waiter than a neurosurgeon.
Rarely have I laughed so loud and so often at a television program.
This little haiku
This plaque in the desert give clear warning about going near the built-to-bomb "town" of Yodaville.
Rugged nature. Oooo-kay.
You might as well just get use to saying it: President The Donald ....
I'm soliciting the Marines to get permission to photograph Yodaville, a town the Corps built about twelve miles from here in the forbidden zone in the open desert for the express purpose of bombing the crap out of it.
Here it is on Google Maps.
a piece in the Daily Mail.
I went out this morning to try to shoot the lunar phenomenon I witnessed yesterday morning when I forgot to take my video camera on my morning hike (see yesterday's post). But the sun rose a bit earlier and the moon set a bit later; in addition there was an obscuring mist on the horizon ... Today's lesson: Be prepared, Scouts.
morning the heavenly bodies were configured in such a way that the full
moon was setting in the West just minutes before the sun rose in the East,
which caused an eclipse-like phenomenon of La Lune: the orb began
vanishing from the bottom up - before it actually reached the horizon. I
tried to film it with my iPhone, without luck. Mañana de la mañana I'll
go deeper into the desert and shoot it with my video camera.
Somber irony near the Yuma Proving Grounds ...
When it rains in the Northwest, people go in to get out of
the past decade or so, I've
been to three of the places the Pope visited in Mexico this week: On
Saturday he said mass at the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe, one of the
most important pilgrimage sites of Catholicism, where James and I watched
people crawl for miles on bloodied hands and knees to worship at an image
of Mary that Mexican Catholics believe was miraculously imprinted on a
coat in the mid-1500s. (James and I seemed to be the few who realized that
God's painting style closely resembled the 15th Century Spanish masters.)
We were heading to San Cristobal de Las Casas in Chiapas, where the Pope
spoke Monday, but we were held up by fatigue, paranoia, and sugar cane
alcohol. Yesterday the Pope stopped over in Morelia, Michoacán, a
staggeringly beautiful colonial city where we spent three dreamlike days,
and where we also ended up in the middle of a Zapatista rally and heard
the infamous Subcommandante Marcos address the rebels. And today the Pope
was in Ciudad Juarez, once known as the Murder Capitol of the World, where
I've been a number of times, but stopped visiting after the cabbies
refused to give me a ride because they "didn't have permission from
the Big Boss."
Regresar al Norte...
I found my ride back to Spokane.
The Mexican border fence. Near San Luis, AZ.
Why the fence doesn't work.
Imagine driving down an old desert road and coming upon this:
Some research revealed an explanation:
Posted by Steve St George on Sunday, February 7, 2016
James finds a rocket engine.
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