Regards and Salvation in births and marriage

let us give thanks for friends with babies in their bellies and weddings on their minds.
let us give thanks for careful planning and logisticians.
let us give thanks for jokes gone wrong and disasters big and small.

when i was in virginia a week ago, my father and i saw the new and friggin awesome james Bond flick. let us give thanks for sinister villains who claim that blood via the tear duct is not 'sinister.'
cheers to a 007 with lighter hair; as innovative as flight itself.
(i heard that in the next one, they bring back the Concord, and tire/wheel shrapnel downs that one too)

i have a chum serving in S.Korea: i give thanks for his life, which he has put on the line for ours.
i have respect for those who declined signing the oversize 'Good Tidings' card for him, Boston Messengers uniting and dividing over the idea of sending off a kind word to "that doucheBag."
the 14X17 document covered with signatures and photos in Mikey-O's honour is to be shipped in the next few days, bound for a US military installation on the other side of the planet.
our cheers and jeers are the same: be safe man, we love you.
poot sends

indo Faction, broRice and jungleCafe

today is my mothers birthday, i think we might go out for Thai. but i have to find her first. my big sister has taken her out on reconn somewhere in the southshore arena, who can tell.
please take a look at the fine work of Scott LaPierre.

http://www.boston.com/news/specials/10_20_30/

he has encapsulated a few Bostonians in a multimedia presentation that is definitely worth the trip. the entire adventure might take something like 45-50 minutes. so brew a cup of the old chai and plug in your flash: LaPierre is a pro. during the second interview, we were on Congress street, he was snapping shots on his digital photo device when the security detail of Exchange Place demanded ID and camera files. although they believe us to be sleepercellageStakingout the loading Dock, scott made it crystal clear that he was a journalist for the BostonGlobe. he gave him a business card, and nothing else. a team of about 3 broadSholdered Securitazi followed us down state st, trying to bully us, or remind us that the cold war was NOT won. howsoever, they fell back into their bunker lair. i found it pleasing to hear other peoples impressions of their living Zones: district pride, burough esprit de corp, gang signs, homeland informants.
this weekend, NJ and VA. can't wait to see my little sister and Pop and the family indonesians(rubi, moeljo, sukoro)
(when the going gets western, we head east.)

Hans Rubi Creates Sensation at MAC Race!!

Here's Mud in your eye you Mid-Atlantic dwellers. We brought out our best guns for the races this past weekend and look what happened.

Day One:
The first day was a day of sharp turns and pain. Pain in the races, pain on our faces, and pain when CRothJ tried to navigate turns and talk on the phone. It was a good thing that Jeremy Powers was there to help him off the ground. I have to say though, the Lower Allen Township (not Turnpike) Park race is always a fun one. A good mixture of fast grass with some mulch, swingsets, and road sections to boot.
C-Men: CRothJ: 12th
B-Men: jd: 7th
Elite Men: Hans Rubi: 28th

Day Two:
The rain came. The tires pressures went down, way down. Mud levels went up, way up. The morning wasn't too bad as far as the course went, a lot of uphill, but still navigable. A slight mist was in the air, a real "Grey Lunger" as they say...but who the hell are they?
Chris Horner was there, he crashed. Hans Rubi was there, and he crashed also, but that doesn't mean he didn't hang it up, he just kept pushing through all that mud. Probably one of the most amazing performances that I have ever seen.
C-Men: CRothJ: 33rd
B-Men: jd: 5th
Elite Men: Hans Rubi: 19!!!!

We'll see you next weekend MAC! Bring your mud too.

deep dish over ground zero

not too long ago i viewed the "loose change second edition" DVD. the delivery of the information was mostly objective, save the music score supporting osam'bn'lddn quote that he had nothing to do with 9/11. simple sand dweller chilling in the hills with a cup of tea and a us gov'r stinger.
i was one of those mass. national guard folk who were called to arms. the barbarians were at the gates and we were not going to go down without a fight. and hey, war makes money. mad cash monies river flow. everybody living like kings cause the world gonna end, now spend.
reActivated back into the airForce, hmmm, think i'll treat myself to a new discman.
i observe the fighter pilot signing out the F15 for a spin. along with his helmet bag he is clutching a 7" square box that is 2" deep. he is strapped in and saluted on his way. upon landing, i ask the officer how his pizza was.
"–Pizza? aw no., that was an america flag I was flying with over lower manhatten, it's being presented to a minister in ohio by senator kerry, at some commencement. (shrug)"
so sick that we spare no expence to enhance this trickery.
the f15 can fly to nyc in, i think it's like 9 minutes. yo, f the fung wa.

loosechange911.com

evacuation doubt

i read a clip in the Globe a few months ago that gave supposed deatails on the owner of finageluhbagel. there were claims that he/they were wicked big coke dealers. if that's what they say then perhaps there might come to light the supposed method of delivery. via the west, through new york state, strippedDown lotus elite speeds down mass pike. law abides as it casually enters south station arena and politely obeys its way to west bound entrance. once past paper trail Cambrodiage toll plaza, pilot cuts electrics, pins the needle, and engages NVG. world headquarters on the right, shotgun flings sachel.
(wooden bridge, the ringer, 15 mph: "–roll out and take that Hill.")
NVG deActivated cerca w. neutown, and backRoads mullie it to interstate south.

looking forward to new hope, pa. thems some beautiful battlegrounds.
the only problem that exists is the drop.

good to see jude; shaking hands and wishin bro well.
ma'lucas brought his weapon shield and was slaying dragons.
matt and jenny and their amazing mini solos, whose hoth base parkas have yet to achieve wolfcoat hood lining, i really cried with happiness for them. drawing in the sun by the railroad tracks: a scene that would stop any war.

[save all the whales, NoFin too small.]

trick your Fleet

it was a blessing to feel so utterly pooped, so confused and strewn all over; falling about the place. i am refering to the beacon cross race of the weekend. the new Igleheart rode like a champ while i just barely held on for DFL. the south jersey ops included croth J and j dunn, and our hostes jeremEllie in N. Philly. my home girl and her man, holding it down by the elevated tracks with their cats and ways. cheers to you both. bravo to our friend chris Igleheart; to your craft and fine attention. you have my word that i will give it everything i have until fuseless.
jeers to our grass rations road scorched sand trapped, blast oasis and nap.
new jersey is glorious country, but returning from bridgeton was an arduous drive up through busted intestines: the mighty wind of Zeus on Olympus nudging rented chevy CobAALT hither and thither whilst it guzzled more Iraqi based ameritroops and spit them out the exhaust. a machine of some minor engineering marvels, the compact auto and its designers who are so obviously in league with the US-PolitGrand and warHawk generales: style and moderate comfort followed by a product that is sure to keep US citizens in the shit. thanks to these fine people we can traverse our land with little fear of hooptey invasio-manner takeOver by foreign power. at least, not including boston based film students who think they can get away with shooting footage a la Munich '72 style roof top assault, as occurred last week in Deep Back Bay arena. the horrific scene promted a passer-by to "hit the deck" and slam the digits to F'ashcrofts hotline du Super panic. i hope to christos that that med school or who so ever Booked it back to his safe European Home and bathed like a hero. i can only imagine the real street scene as the 'hats-n-Bats' swooped in like the A-team to snuff the artists big screen break.
long of the short, if you are fixing to film anywhere in the municipality and are involving skiMaskies and guns of Brixton, either wait for the law to break in/ notify the BOS polizei/ or dial in you grrilla methods so as to include a getAway path and subsequent filming of realTime swatResponce.

Hair Trim Ops, postponed

My nephew was supposed to come over last night for a hair cut. I have been trimming his crown for something like, 7-10 years, so it is a rather sacred event. sometimes his mum is there watching, trying not to interfere. meanwhile, i am looking at them for guidance and a little feedback as to how they want skywalker boy to look. when i ask my sister for a clue, she gestures with her hands as if she is a pantomime decopaging a Pleistocene Bust of Cure's Robert Smith. instead of trying to decypher the Air Fu, i craft nephews hair in a manner befitting a lad well on his way to ruling the universe. i am jealous that he is so metropolitan; roaming the BOS with his mates and skating the scene rebel Black. but then i remind myself that the FortePoint channel does harbour some denizen of ill repute: Listos, crackies, and shadow roamers looking to beatDown a lost soul.
i should furnish the boy with a police issue taser. i hear that they save lives.

poot.