09/09/09

Just a thought

Surname: Fire

S.S. Penman

Trail Magic - S.S. Penman

How are you?

Trees

Bad Noose Bears

Sat. Nite Duets

7 friends and I made a record together this summer:
Sat. Nite Duets



photos by Sugar Todd!

ourSpace

Almost-a-Dog Mountain

Trail Magic - Almost-a-Dog Mountain

Remember?

I'll Sleep When I'm Deaf

Some closed captioning I saw on TV last night:

SECOND DOWBA TO JACK
JACKN S THE THIRD DOWN
M NOT GAG TO HAZAR
THAT'S THEIG END
STINKALL

Don't Throw Up

Trail Magic - Don't Throw Up

Smörgåsbored

Today's Special:
Iceberg lettuce for the soul

See?

It's Okay!
He Saw It On The Television:

Feeling Lunar

this is my favorite picture of us

Make Your Own Fun

some REAL LIVE DAD

dorm room sessions

totally LIVE, 100% DAD

this is the stuff that i played in the summer

Trail Magic - Live Dad

get sloppy

Doggie Dunnit

Lorain County Dog Summit '09

Certified

License to nil

Up North

My Favorite Text Message!

"Interested in trucks?" --

pool loop

trail magic - pool loop

can't stop won't stop

Abandon Ship!

May I have your attention please?

As much as it pains me to alarm you, I believe that, as passengers of the Tahitian Princess, you ought to be made aware of an unfortunate reality that has recently come to pass. Collectively speaking, we are in something of a pickle. Please don't take this the wrong way; there's little that you or I could have done to avoid this disastrous turn of events. Although it may be your gut reaction to hoist the rucksack of guilt, a more thorough analysis of the situation will surely give way to an understanding that our current predicament has not arisen due to the activities of our guests. Rather, it would be more accurate to say that our present dilemma is primarily resultant of a few major miscalculations on the part of Princess Cruises motorman Tucker Applebottom. But let's not get hung up on such technicalities; our circumstances demand action.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe that an anecdotal approach to this announcement might help to disarm some of the more unsettling qualities of the message that I'm attempting to communicate.

When I was just a small boy with a taste for crabmeat and an as-of-yet unquestioned love for my homeland, my dear mother passed along a piece of advice that I will carry with me to the end of my days. She sat me down on the docks at Avarua and spoke assertively:

"Son?"

"Yes, mother?"

"Rest your head on my stomach and listen closely."

I obeyed, hesitantly at first. Slowly I became acquainted with a faint but palpable thumping, accented by occasional kicks and strange gurgles.

"Can you feel it?"

"Yes, mother."

"Boy, you better never forget your sweet-ass how to swim!"

I certainly haven't.

Did I forget to mention that I'm from the Cook Islands? I've actually found that I've become a bit disenchanted with the place of late. I think that that has something to do with the rats.

What's that? You want Bob to make the announcement?

Well I'm sorry. I was only trying to help.

Okay, fine.