Sowell-ed down the river

Random thoughts from the middle of nowhere:

Fact learned on the drive to Moab: those high handlebars you sometimes see on motorcycles? They're called "ape hangers."

West of Grand Junction we passed your basic VW hippie van tooling (or rather non-tooling) along about 55 in the right-hand lane of I-70. Driving it, astoundingly, was a long-haired, bearded, hippie, one of those Jesus Christ-looking ones. As we passed he was steering with his elbows as his hands fiddled with something over the dash.

He was rolling a joint.

We did not call "the fuzz."

They're everywhere

In the van (not a VW) down to the put-in a woman was telling Sean the driver how the Chinese have done "so well" with communism because collectivism has been bred into them over the centuries. Observations like this (or as stupid as this anyway) are heard on or in the vicinity of the Green more frequently than one might expect. Sean agreed with the woman, who labored under the name "Cathy." (Sean, by the way, was a bodyguard for--well, all I remember are Suzanne Somers and Bill Murray (who was really nice). Sean is also a poet. Can't speak for his talent, but he's the biggest goddamn poet you ever saw.)

Sitting right behind "Cathy," I roused myself enough to mumble that the Chinese hadn't done "so well" in the late 50s and early 60s. "Oh yeah, the Cultural Revolution and all that," "Cathy" said. Alas, it was far too early in the morning for the wet-brained one to retort, No, not the Cultural Revolution, you eejit.

And she and her family, she said, were moving to China soon. Two words, dear: Crack those books.

Cap'n Campy sez: All freeze-dried dinners, even those labeled "vegetarian," are 40 to 45 percent rat fat.

The photo below right is a major reason the Drunkablog began blogging. He feels guilty about it, but needs to inflict his pain on others:

From the Belknap map of the Green and Colorado rivers. Some viewers of this uber-embarrassing tableau, like one not particularly violent friend of mine, respond to it uncharacteristically: "They're stuck," he says. "Get the flamethrower."

The last couple of years we've also had great fun at the expense of the famously mono-handed Aron Ralston, who performed his little self-modification in Blue John Canyon not far from the Green. Mostly we wonder about that hand he cut off. What happened to it? Then I saw The Crawling Hand and I knew. Every night, Aron's hand sneaks out of its case in Moab's Dan O'Laurie Museum, lookin' for some throttlin'. It lurks in canyons, scuttles through draws, wriggles in festering muckholes. And it is patient.

But it is Aron Ralston's hand, so it is also dumb. Even for a hand. Most of the time it's down at the Slickrock trying to cadge drinks.

Think I'm being too hard on Aron? First, he can probably afford to laugh, perhaps while scratching his head quizzically with his new, multi-tool hand, at my crude japes. Second, if you think my japes are crude, check out this attack on Ralston at Dodge Forum. The spongy livered one comes off quite sophisto by comparison.

Yes, there are quite a few movies about possessed hands.

Update: Dodge Forum? I'm losing it.

Update II: Just realized that the headline for this might sound racist, since Sowell's a black guy and slaves were sold down the river and all. The headline writer (you all know, of course, that the writer of a piece never writes the headline) says it wasn't intended.