It is time to carry the fight to the enemy. S'qatch is on his way over right now to load up and attack San Felasco. This malaise of hollandaise, this catastrophe of atrophy stops today. I have seen the enemy and he is a dashingly handsome, stocky man with a beard-not unlike myself.
By telepathy, Pa and friends down in Reddick are aware of our plans and intend to meet us at the trailhead where they will badger us like the flying monkeys. I feel nothing bu sorrow and contempt for them and all others who try to stop me today.
Because I will not be stopped today.
-Juancho
2 comments:
Where y'at Captain? Gotta dig deep for the San Felasco fury.
I'm thinking you should go at it Hunter S. Thompson style -- smoke grits on the trail (while riding), and call all the women riders 'darlin'.
Hats off for some fine camp cooking, slow-ass back-road navigating, and even some flashy cutting and carving through the Razorback landscape like from back in the day. You might be down but you're never out.
Thanks for the kind words, but nothing can help me now.
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