Thursday, August 19, 2010

Danger



They're quick.

[Update] Not Death Valley. Mojave National Preserve.

5 comments:

Scumster said...

Furst to comment they can really screw up a nice set of alloy rims when flattened at 70 mph too.

At least it is only a sign and not millions of dollars of two foot high fence with specially designed road crossings the government makes private industry build to protect them.

Is it true they taste like chicken?

D said...

protected sea turtle tastes like bald eagle and spotted owl

Lavi D. said...

protected sea turtle tastes like bald eagle and spotted owl

I heard it tastes like light, sweet crude.

D said...

beep, beep

The Poster Anonymously Known as Scum said...

From desert tortoisses...tortoisii?....to sea turtles and beyond!

Once upon a time...many, many decades ago in the mid sixties...Scummy's Daddy brought him a desert tortoise he found on the road coming home from work.

I kept him a few days, fed him lettuce, and just enjoyed a rare pet.

After a few days Scummy's Daddy took Mr. Tortoise and released him into the Arizona desert away from the road he was found on.

I went to a training class this year or last to learn that what Scummy's Daddy did in the mid sixties with that tortoise is now a Federal Felony punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a $50,000 fine.

Fucking Nazi-Fascist States of America.

We also used to chase road runners in the driveway...I learned what nasty beasts they were when living in Lughlin....and I once saw a Manta Ray leap out of the water in Guaymas with Daddy.

Scummy's Momma never offered to cook any of these items.


Every now and then when your life gets complicated and the weasels start closing in, the only cure is to load up on heinous chemicals and then drive like a bastard from Hollywood to Las Vegas ... with the music at top volume and at least a pint of ether.

-Hunter S. Thompson


Dedicated to the other side of Las Vegas, namely; the sprawling, mad, incoherent underpinnings of the world's favorite destination.

That, and the occasional ranting about nothing in particular.