People ask me why I have such a jaded view of the world. I pay attention. This world isn't pretty. To put it succinctly, this world is more fucked up than a Salvador Dali painting viewed while tripping on acid. Most people, and I'm not limiting this to Americans, it's most of the non-third world, are happy to live in their nice, quiet bubbles and live ignorant of what goes on every day around the world. Pakistan is always one of my favorite countries to harp on. America's ally that is just fucked in every way imaginable.
Video was released yesterday of a man being shot twice by Pakistani Rangers, then left to bleed out on the ground. He begged for his life, begged for help, and they just stood and watched him die. He had done nothing, but was accused of trying to rob someone. Clearly enough to be executed, right?
The BBC article reviewing the whole situation is here.
The video I will link below, but I must warn anyone who views this: it is NOT for the faint of heart. Watching a man die is a very disturbing thing. I hope youtube leaves it up.
Video here.
When I got to college, I decided that I would start educating myself about the world outside my country. I did. I opened my eyes to a world of information and news that is mostly buried behind celebrity hype, gas prices, and other kinds of drivel. However, once you take your head out of the hole, it's hard to get it back in. I stuck my head back in the hole about a year ago when I started taking this stuff way too seriously. Every so often, a day comes like today when I find something like this. I try as hard as I can to get my head back in the hole. This is too hard for me though. I think that man's cries of pain will haunt me for a long time.
I wish I knew what to do to help. Maybe I'll keep my head above the ground long enough to find out or create a new way to help.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Breaking Dawn Trailer
The trailer for Breaking Dawn (part 1, that is. I know, we have to endure fangirls for TWO MORE of these fucking Twilight movies) is out. I'm not going to post it here. I shall have that filth smear my blog's content. Instead, I will post a link to a post on my forum. The text on this post was taken DIRECTLY from the book. I dare anyone to try reading it aloud.
http://www.forumopolis.com/showpost.php?p=3765798&postcount=30
http://www.forumopolis.com/showpost.php?p=3765798&postcount=30
Saturday, May 21, 2011
My Problems With the Rapture
As I'm sure many of you are aware, a cultish section of Christians believed that the rapture was actually going to happen today. If you aren't aware, go google it. I'll wait.
Ready? Ok, so to sum up: they believed that Jesus was going to come along the world, starting in Asia at 6:00 pm, lifting up the faithful and righteous to heaven as he went, traveling with the timezones. Massive earthquakes would follow in his wake. It would be a shaky death-filled bonanza, where the righteous would be accepted into the bosom of the lord (I bet God has a great rack) and the faithful would endure 153 days of Hell on earth, right before God flicked the lights out on the world. Of course, none of this has happened today. I shall shed my terse, hilarious opinions on this with much glee. Here we go!
1. Jesus is the vacuum Santa Claus to the faithful.
Think about it. Jesus is traveling the world in one day, flying across the sky. No speeches, no trumpeting angels, no seven headed beast rising out of the sea. Instead, he just sucks up the goodie goodie Christians up to heaven. Woosh. Nice to know Jesus sucks, I wonder if he swallows?
2. The start taking place at the pacific rim is kind of obvious.
That just seems opportunistic and stupid. I mean, how many mini earthquakes happen all around the ring of fire each year? Many. According to this site, 21533 occurred in 2010. 173 of those were of magnitude 6.0 or greater, which are considered to be more dangerous. Lots of the big ones occur in the pacific rim, also known as the ring of fire, famous for its tectonic shifts. Very rarely do huge ones occur in places like Haiti. So starting it in the ring of fire? I think they were trying to get lucky.
Of course, as I write this, Iceland's biggest volcano has just erupted, causing 50 small quakes. Of course, the volcano is named Grimsvotn, which would make me believe Ragnarok is coming rather than the rapture. Also, it is Iceland's most active volcano. Whatever, moving on.
3. The Rapture would take place exactly 7000 years to the day after the flood
Get real. Numerologists have tried for literally thousands of years to find patterns in the Bible predicting whatever, but have come up very, very wrong.
4. Camping has been silent about the lack of rapture
He also made $80 million in donations from his fanatical followers. He is nowhere to be found. Coincidence? I think not.
5. Matthew 24:36
"But about that day or hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father "
Even the Bible says that man cannot predict the end of the world. As such, no Christian should be egotistical enough to predict the end of the world if they take the word of the Bible as law.
6. Ragnarok will be cooler
The Fimbulvetr (Mighty winter) shall be upon the nine worlds, and Midgard and Asgard will be plunged into chaos and war. Loki will break free his chains and set loose his brood against the world. The great wolves that are his children will devour the sun and the moon, plunging the world into darkness. The gods shall do battle, and most will die. The great sea will plunge into the earth, and Jormungandr, the great serpent that encircles the world, will plunge forth with it, raining his venom and destruction across the land. The great sea shall swallow the world, and that will be the end.
Until, of course, the seas retreat and the surviving humans (two of them) and the gods repopulate the earth.
I like that version better.
Ready? Ok, so to sum up: they believed that Jesus was going to come along the world, starting in Asia at 6:00 pm, lifting up the faithful and righteous to heaven as he went, traveling with the timezones. Massive earthquakes would follow in his wake. It would be a shaky death-filled bonanza, where the righteous would be accepted into the bosom of the lord (I bet God has a great rack) and the faithful would endure 153 days of Hell on earth, right before God flicked the lights out on the world. Of course, none of this has happened today. I shall shed my terse, hilarious opinions on this with much glee. Here we go!
1. Jesus is the vacuum Santa Claus to the faithful.
Think about it. Jesus is traveling the world in one day, flying across the sky. No speeches, no trumpeting angels, no seven headed beast rising out of the sea. Instead, he just sucks up the goodie goodie Christians up to heaven. Woosh. Nice to know Jesus sucks, I wonder if he swallows?
2. The start taking place at the pacific rim is kind of obvious.
That just seems opportunistic and stupid. I mean, how many mini earthquakes happen all around the ring of fire each year? Many. According to this site, 21533 occurred in 2010. 173 of those were of magnitude 6.0 or greater, which are considered to be more dangerous. Lots of the big ones occur in the pacific rim, also known as the ring of fire, famous for its tectonic shifts. Very rarely do huge ones occur in places like Haiti. So starting it in the ring of fire? I think they were trying to get lucky.
Of course, as I write this, Iceland's biggest volcano has just erupted, causing 50 small quakes. Of course, the volcano is named Grimsvotn, which would make me believe Ragnarok is coming rather than the rapture. Also, it is Iceland's most active volcano. Whatever, moving on.
3. The Rapture would take place exactly 7000 years to the day after the flood
Get real. Numerologists have tried for literally thousands of years to find patterns in the Bible predicting whatever, but have come up very, very wrong.
4. Camping has been silent about the lack of rapture
He also made $80 million in donations from his fanatical followers. He is nowhere to be found. Coincidence? I think not.
5. Matthew 24:36
"But about that day or hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father "
Even the Bible says that man cannot predict the end of the world. As such, no Christian should be egotistical enough to predict the end of the world if they take the word of the Bible as law.
6. Ragnarok will be cooler
The Fimbulvetr (Mighty winter) shall be upon the nine worlds, and Midgard and Asgard will be plunged into chaos and war. Loki will break free his chains and set loose his brood against the world. The great wolves that are his children will devour the sun and the moon, plunging the world into darkness. The gods shall do battle, and most will die. The great sea will plunge into the earth, and Jormungandr, the great serpent that encircles the world, will plunge forth with it, raining his venom and destruction across the land. The great sea shall swallow the world, and that will be the end.
Until, of course, the seas retreat and the surviving humans (two of them) and the gods repopulate the earth.
I like that version better.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
DC Ride - Tuesday
Yeah, I know. I haven't been posting. Whatever. End of the semester. I know you guys like to read this, and you do complain when I'm not being funny. You get to laugh. I'm the one who has to fucking work here.
IN ANY EVENT
Tuesday on the DC Ride really begins with how they wake us up. They cart around a stage and some sound equipment to each camp. Most of the time, it just plays really depressing country western songs. I know, all country western is depressing. This is the worst of the worst in that regard. It's enough to make sane men want to kill themselves. I still have no idea why they do this.
The sound equipment comes in handy in the mornings. They wake us up on Tuesday by playing the sound of a steam engine (complete with whistles) that really does sound like it's coming right through camp. Then they play reveille. An announcer comes on and tells us to "drop our cocks and grab our socks," then lists the schedule for the next couple of hours: eat breakfast, break down camp, then saddle up. We leave at 7:00 AM. They wake us up at 5:00 AM for this. Time to get cracking. The first task for the Greenies in the morning is to go and get coffee. Of course, our batboy forgot the fucking coffee pots, so we had to borrow one from another camp. Strike one for Tommy. The Greenies got coffee, didn't get a fire going, and the coffee got cold. Which makes for a bunch of upset old guys. One of them, Mike, likes to yell about things going wrong. Which he did...very colorfully. Some guy yelling at the top of his lungs about how the coffee situation is "motherfucking unacceptable" gets old after about 5 minutes.
One everyone is up and fed, it's time to pack a lunch. They have sandwiches prepped and ready for you, along with apples, oranges, chips and other stuff for snacks. You take all you can fit in your saddlebags, really. It's going to be a long, long day. Lunch is at 11:30. That's four and a half hours of riding to get your ass hurting. Tuesdays are usually eventful days. A lot of stuff that can go wrong does. Fortunately, not so many bad things happened to me. There were enough though to make it interesting. Once we get all saddled up, it's a lot of hurry up and wait. Our camp usually likes to leave last, that way we don't have a whole bunch of pushy bastards trying to get us to speed up. Finding the trail isn't hard, and we actually fell behind during the day. More on that later. While we were waiting, I learned something crucial about my horse: he does not like waiting. At all. He likes to toss his head and try and follow every single person trying to leave. This means I am in a constant battle with this animal just to keep him in place. He also likes to headbutt other horses' asses if they aren't going fast enough. I swear, this horse must be from New Jersey.
Usually Tuesdays are A LOT of climbing. There are two ways to get to Cooper's Canyon: along the river, or over the mountains. Usually, they choose a combination of these for the trail. This year, we were pretty fortunate, as they chose mostly river routes for the day. This is much easier on the horses and the riders. However, riding along the river raises problems. One of the main problems comes in the form of rolling horses. Horses get hot. They're doing most of the work here. Taking a dip in the water usually feels good. However, they like to do this whether you're on them or not. An 800 pound animal rolling on you is usually a bad thing. Fortunately, there are easy ways to figure out if a horse is going to roll in the water.
1. He stops (this doesn't help if you're stopping to let him drink).
2. He starts to paw the water with one of his hooves.
3. He starts to go down.
My first year, my horse almost rolled on me. I managed to jump off, getting from the horse in the middle of the pond to the bank in one shot (it was about 6 feet...not bad for a white guy). As such, I pay an inordinate amount of attention now. My current horse (mr. bad attitude), tried to roll me a few times. Three times in the river, once in the sand. I still have no idea why he thought the sand would be a good idea. The easy way to prevent a horse from going down is to kick them with all your might and yank up on the reins with all your might at the same time. Usually they get the memo. However, this resulted in a hilarious twist in one part of the river: my right rein snapped off. He was trying to toss his head and I was trying to pull him out of the river at the same time. Of course, the rein snaps, he spooks, and I go careening off the trail into some trees. Once I realized what happened, I pulled back on the one rein to try and stop him. This just spun him around in circles for a minute or so until he realized what I was trying to do. We ended up securing the rein back on with zip ties (a gentlemen was kind enough to stop and help us. Go team). This resulted in my brother, dad and I being at the back of the bus. We were dead last in the trail with some wranglers and the medical crew. They're good guys though. It fell on me to find the trail. My dad thought it would be a good idea...sort of a baptism by fire. I found our way back, just as our fellow campers were taking a piss stop.
DC Piss Stop Etiquette 101: At least two people stop with you, and if it isn't safe, the people riding behind you stop and wait. This is because one guy in our camp decided to stop by himself one year. People just kept riding buy, and no one was there to hold his horse. His horse tried to play catch-up....right as he was getting back on. Three cracked ribs and a helicopter ride later, we don't let people do that anymore.
We continue riding once we catch up. Bad Greenie (we have also started calling him "Cowboy Dick") wasn't paying attention to his horse in the river. Guess what happens? Yup-horse rolls on him. No injury, but it sure was a wake up call. This was literally the horse's last shot to do this. We exited the river 50 feet after that spot. Time to climb. We spend another two hours or so climbing to the spot where we're going to have lunch. This spot was conveniently lacking in trees to tie our horses to in the back, but we made due. I also cut up the apple I got for lunch to give to my horse. He was ecstatic. This was when we finally started to come to our "understanding" that I wasn't torturing him. Topito was pretty cool the rest of the day, if not still impatient.
Once lunch is over, we climb a bit more, then it's all downhill into Cooper's Canyon. This. Takes. For. Ever. At this point, if weren't riding the days before Monday, your ass, knees, and hips hurt like nothing else on this Earth. The pain isn't really anything possible to describe. The hour we get for lunch is good to stretch, but you still have another 4 hours to go. Fun stuff.
Right before Coopers, there is a beer stop. I forgot to write about this on Monday. There are certain points where troughs are set up for the horses so they can get water. Conveniently, they also drive out some beer, water, and gatorade for the riders there too. A lot of people grab beer. Most days, my dad and I grab gatorade. However, Tuesday's beer stop was literally a half hour from camp, so we got beer. I found out another thing that spooks my horse: cracking a beer can.
Once you're in camp, you get to do the best thing in the world: get off the horse. It feels so good. Our camp sits in the shade of the biggest cottonwood tree I have ever seen. We eat, and do lots and lots and lots of drinking. Wednesday is the day in camp, so we can do whatever the hell we want. They also don't wake us up, so we can stay up as long as we want. Unfortunately, the wind really kicked up, making everything freezing (about 34 degrees). So we went to bed early.
Next up: pranks, guns, horse races, duck races, and more drinking.
IN ANY EVENT
Tuesday on the DC Ride really begins with how they wake us up. They cart around a stage and some sound equipment to each camp. Most of the time, it just plays really depressing country western songs. I know, all country western is depressing. This is the worst of the worst in that regard. It's enough to make sane men want to kill themselves. I still have no idea why they do this.
The sound equipment comes in handy in the mornings. They wake us up on Tuesday by playing the sound of a steam engine (complete with whistles) that really does sound like it's coming right through camp. Then they play reveille. An announcer comes on and tells us to "drop our cocks and grab our socks," then lists the schedule for the next couple of hours: eat breakfast, break down camp, then saddle up. We leave at 7:00 AM. They wake us up at 5:00 AM for this. Time to get cracking. The first task for the Greenies in the morning is to go and get coffee. Of course, our batboy forgot the fucking coffee pots, so we had to borrow one from another camp. Strike one for Tommy. The Greenies got coffee, didn't get a fire going, and the coffee got cold. Which makes for a bunch of upset old guys. One of them, Mike, likes to yell about things going wrong. Which he did...very colorfully. Some guy yelling at the top of his lungs about how the coffee situation is "motherfucking unacceptable" gets old after about 5 minutes.
One everyone is up and fed, it's time to pack a lunch. They have sandwiches prepped and ready for you, along with apples, oranges, chips and other stuff for snacks. You take all you can fit in your saddlebags, really. It's going to be a long, long day. Lunch is at 11:30. That's four and a half hours of riding to get your ass hurting. Tuesdays are usually eventful days. A lot of stuff that can go wrong does. Fortunately, not so many bad things happened to me. There were enough though to make it interesting. Once we get all saddled up, it's a lot of hurry up and wait. Our camp usually likes to leave last, that way we don't have a whole bunch of pushy bastards trying to get us to speed up. Finding the trail isn't hard, and we actually fell behind during the day. More on that later. While we were waiting, I learned something crucial about my horse: he does not like waiting. At all. He likes to toss his head and try and follow every single person trying to leave. This means I am in a constant battle with this animal just to keep him in place. He also likes to headbutt other horses' asses if they aren't going fast enough. I swear, this horse must be from New Jersey.
Usually Tuesdays are A LOT of climbing. There are two ways to get to Cooper's Canyon: along the river, or over the mountains. Usually, they choose a combination of these for the trail. This year, we were pretty fortunate, as they chose mostly river routes for the day. This is much easier on the horses and the riders. However, riding along the river raises problems. One of the main problems comes in the form of rolling horses. Horses get hot. They're doing most of the work here. Taking a dip in the water usually feels good. However, they like to do this whether you're on them or not. An 800 pound animal rolling on you is usually a bad thing. Fortunately, there are easy ways to figure out if a horse is going to roll in the water.
1. He stops (this doesn't help if you're stopping to let him drink).
2. He starts to paw the water with one of his hooves.
3. He starts to go down.
My first year, my horse almost rolled on me. I managed to jump off, getting from the horse in the middle of the pond to the bank in one shot (it was about 6 feet...not bad for a white guy). As such, I pay an inordinate amount of attention now. My current horse (mr. bad attitude), tried to roll me a few times. Three times in the river, once in the sand. I still have no idea why he thought the sand would be a good idea. The easy way to prevent a horse from going down is to kick them with all your might and yank up on the reins with all your might at the same time. Usually they get the memo. However, this resulted in a hilarious twist in one part of the river: my right rein snapped off. He was trying to toss his head and I was trying to pull him out of the river at the same time. Of course, the rein snaps, he spooks, and I go careening off the trail into some trees. Once I realized what happened, I pulled back on the one rein to try and stop him. This just spun him around in circles for a minute or so until he realized what I was trying to do. We ended up securing the rein back on with zip ties (a gentlemen was kind enough to stop and help us. Go team). This resulted in my brother, dad and I being at the back of the bus. We were dead last in the trail with some wranglers and the medical crew. They're good guys though. It fell on me to find the trail. My dad thought it would be a good idea...sort of a baptism by fire. I found our way back, just as our fellow campers were taking a piss stop.
DC Piss Stop Etiquette 101: At least two people stop with you, and if it isn't safe, the people riding behind you stop and wait. This is because one guy in our camp decided to stop by himself one year. People just kept riding buy, and no one was there to hold his horse. His horse tried to play catch-up....right as he was getting back on. Three cracked ribs and a helicopter ride later, we don't let people do that anymore.
We continue riding once we catch up. Bad Greenie (we have also started calling him "Cowboy Dick") wasn't paying attention to his horse in the river. Guess what happens? Yup-horse rolls on him. No injury, but it sure was a wake up call. This was literally the horse's last shot to do this. We exited the river 50 feet after that spot. Time to climb. We spend another two hours or so climbing to the spot where we're going to have lunch. This spot was conveniently lacking in trees to tie our horses to in the back, but we made due. I also cut up the apple I got for lunch to give to my horse. He was ecstatic. This was when we finally started to come to our "understanding" that I wasn't torturing him. Topito was pretty cool the rest of the day, if not still impatient.
Once lunch is over, we climb a bit more, then it's all downhill into Cooper's Canyon. This. Takes. For. Ever. At this point, if weren't riding the days before Monday, your ass, knees, and hips hurt like nothing else on this Earth. The pain isn't really anything possible to describe. The hour we get for lunch is good to stretch, but you still have another 4 hours to go. Fun stuff.
Right before Coopers, there is a beer stop. I forgot to write about this on Monday. There are certain points where troughs are set up for the horses so they can get water. Conveniently, they also drive out some beer, water, and gatorade for the riders there too. A lot of people grab beer. Most days, my dad and I grab gatorade. However, Tuesday's beer stop was literally a half hour from camp, so we got beer. I found out another thing that spooks my horse: cracking a beer can.
Once you're in camp, you get to do the best thing in the world: get off the horse. It feels so good. Our camp sits in the shade of the biggest cottonwood tree I have ever seen. We eat, and do lots and lots and lots of drinking. Wednesday is the day in camp, so we can do whatever the hell we want. They also don't wake us up, so we can stay up as long as we want. Unfortunately, the wind really kicked up, making everything freezing (about 34 degrees). So we went to bed early.
Next up: pranks, guns, horse races, duck races, and more drinking.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
DC Ride - Monday
The DC Ride begins Monday morning at 7 am when the Greenies come wake everyone up with margaritas and mariachi music. They come around with two buckets: one of ice and one of margarita mix and tequila, and give you breakfast margaritas. This is where the drinking begins.
Take time to think about that and let it sink in.
Back in the day (this is like 6-7 years ago and before), the people in charge of the ranch camp used to hire an actual mariachi band to come play during this time and during the El Presidente Party. It was really cool, because the Mariachis would would start playing around 6 am, and wander around the whole area of the ranch where the guest rooms are. It's a really cool thing to wake up to, if you get the chance. Otherwise, you get woken up to them at your door while you're in PJ's with people handing you booze, playing and singing as loud as they can. It is my personal goal to bring them back in the coming years, even if I have to pay for them myself. I miss them.
You wander down to the dining room and patio for breakfast after this. There are more margaritas for you there (should you desire...I recommend not). You eat breakfast, then get your gear ready to be loaded in the U-Haul (another Greenie job. You should be getting the trend by now that they are in charge of most of the bitch work). After that, you take your saddle bags down to the corral, along with you in all your riding gear, and get ready to mount up. Now, if you have a girl or some other friend of sorts to ride your horse into town, they mount up instead of you. Me being friendless and lacking in a girlfriend in proximity (she had some fucking "FE Exam." Load of horseshit, in my opinion), I had to ride for an hour and a half into town. This is time to get adjusted to the idea of what you're about to do, let the last minute fears sink in, and think about all the things you forgot to do before you left wash over you in a tsunami of panic. Also, it's a chance to ride by some houses on the outskirts of town that have very loud, barking dogs that scare horses and send them careening into the brush. These things happen. Especially with girls on them who are expecting an easy ride. I was already on my toes at this point, so I didn't go anywhere. All the other horses around me did though. Not a fun way to start the riding day.
In short order, we get into town. We dismount for a bit, eat lunch, which consist of prepared, bagged sandwiches for us, and hurry up and wait. Then, we mount back up and ride across the railroad tracks. Horses do one of two things in the presence of tracks: nothing or panic. Thankfully, the camp was devoid of the panic option this trip. Last time I was on the ride, some joke thought it would be fun to trip the sensors and make the crossing think a train was coming. Loud noises and falling railroad guards are NOT FUN around animals that do not know what the fuck they are. Once we ride past that, we get to the library. More time to hurry up and wait. We must wait for "high noon" for the ceremonies to start. People make boring as speeches. Horses get restless. Riders get restless. My brother goes to hold a flag (I was expecting disaster at this point). The national anthem is sung. In a moment of sheer stupidity, I decided to take off my hat. My horse decided it was then a good time to leave NOW right the way we came. I put a stop to that, but not before I had ridden about 100 feet and had to ride back. Last time I ever took off my hat. Sam noticed. I would not get to live this down later.
Let me expound a bit on horses and riding them. Riding a horse is not like driving a car. True, they have the same functionality as a car: acceleration (kicking them), brakes (pulling back on the reins), and full power steering. However, a horse is an animal, which means it has personality. They have things they like and dislike (also other horses they like and dislike), and they do take care of their riders so long as their riders take care of them. My horse (Topito is his name) and I didn't hit it off to a great start. It took a couple days before he realized I was trying to take care of him to. After that, we came to an understanding. Once you learn the personality of the horse you are riding, you can have an amazing time bonding with the animal on the trail. However, if any horse wants you off, there is not a power in this universe that can keep you on. Imagine if you will being in a very packed crowd, people brushing up against you on all side. This is very uncomfortable. Horses like it just about as much as people do. They have a more direct way of dealing with it, in the form of kicking and biting. That is what makes this next part pretty insane.
We leave all at once. We cross the Wickenburg bridge in a huge group (about 10 horses wide), and then we must narrow down in a few minutes to ONE HORSE AT A TIME to cross a cattle guard (I would suggest googling this). This is not a good idea. This is where people get kicked or thrown. Luckily, neither happened. The Flag Bearers get to lead everyone out, and my brother did a fantastic job. We met up with him afterwards, and unfortunately got stuck in front of a group of Californios. Pushy bastards. Later, we would end up falling behind by about 50 yards. We could still see hats, which meant we could find the trail. These guys were having none of that, and kept telling my brother to spur his horse and catch up. They earned a nice, Andrew style glare. I didn't even need to tell them to shut the fuck up.
We ride out pretty much in single file for most of the ride. The trail is denoted by markers, which take the form of pink ribbons tied around trees to let you know which way to go if there is a fork in the trail. The weather was beautiful, and it had just rained, so there was absolutely no dust. You couldn't ask for ideal conditions. The trail for the day passed mostly uneventfully, save one minor hiccup. Once we got farther into the desert, we came across a point in the trail where there was an obstacle in the form of a four-foot high rock. The horse had to climb this rock. The procession went Greenie - my dad - my brother - me. The Greenies' horse had a little trouble and stumbled on the way up. My dad's horse, Gonzo, isn't exactly sure footed. He took his time and got up without issue. My brother's horse went up without issue. My horse decided this would be a good place to practice his high jump career and decided to take it in one leap. I don't weigh much, so I came off the saddle a good six inches and slammed my nuts down right into the saddle horn. Ouch.
Monday's ride lasts about 4 and a half hours. The ride was into Sayer's Station. Sayer's station is the ruins of an old post office stop and general store that used to feed the surrounding countryside. It was abandoned long ago, and now servers as our first campsite. The Los Cab camp is on a slight hill, which means putting up your cots gets interesting in the geometry. All heads point uphill. Getting off the trail, the wranglers take our horses to feed and water them, then we go get settled. Once settled, we do more Greenie events (such as have their sponsors embarrass the shit out of them with funny stories), and they do the next Greenie task of getting us all drinks. Once dinner rolls around, we all go eat steak, salad, and potatoes (the ride hires a catering service that moves with us and sets this all up), and retire to the campfire for more drinking and merriment.
If you've never heard me talk about nightfall in Arizona, you will need to know this: as soon as the sun is gone, so is the warmth. There is a good 20-30 degree different between night and day. This week was no exception. Soon, it is very cold, which means people are either huddled up in their bunks or huddled up around the fire. I chose the fire for a while. This gave Sam ample opportunity to admonish me for not taking my hat off for the national anthem. Joy. Monday night is usually a pretty early night, as we have the longest day on Tuesday: 9 hours in the saddle. This is the day when you DON'T want to be hurting. I did my hurting on Monday.
Next update:
High climbs, rivers, rolling horses, and a long ass day. Plenty of fun stuff.
Take time to think about that and let it sink in.
Back in the day (this is like 6-7 years ago and before), the people in charge of the ranch camp used to hire an actual mariachi band to come play during this time and during the El Presidente Party. It was really cool, because the Mariachis would would start playing around 6 am, and wander around the whole area of the ranch where the guest rooms are. It's a really cool thing to wake up to, if you get the chance. Otherwise, you get woken up to them at your door while you're in PJ's with people handing you booze, playing and singing as loud as they can. It is my personal goal to bring them back in the coming years, even if I have to pay for them myself. I miss them.
You wander down to the dining room and patio for breakfast after this. There are more margaritas for you there (should you desire...I recommend not). You eat breakfast, then get your gear ready to be loaded in the U-Haul (another Greenie job. You should be getting the trend by now that they are in charge of most of the bitch work). After that, you take your saddle bags down to the corral, along with you in all your riding gear, and get ready to mount up. Now, if you have a girl or some other friend of sorts to ride your horse into town, they mount up instead of you. Me being friendless and lacking in a girlfriend in proximity (she had some fucking "FE Exam." Load of horseshit, in my opinion), I had to ride for an hour and a half into town. This is time to get adjusted to the idea of what you're about to do, let the last minute fears sink in, and think about all the things you forgot to do before you left wash over you in a tsunami of panic. Also, it's a chance to ride by some houses on the outskirts of town that have very loud, barking dogs that scare horses and send them careening into the brush. These things happen. Especially with girls on them who are expecting an easy ride. I was already on my toes at this point, so I didn't go anywhere. All the other horses around me did though. Not a fun way to start the riding day.
In short order, we get into town. We dismount for a bit, eat lunch, which consist of prepared, bagged sandwiches for us, and hurry up and wait. Then, we mount back up and ride across the railroad tracks. Horses do one of two things in the presence of tracks: nothing or panic. Thankfully, the camp was devoid of the panic option this trip. Last time I was on the ride, some joke thought it would be fun to trip the sensors and make the crossing think a train was coming. Loud noises and falling railroad guards are NOT FUN around animals that do not know what the fuck they are. Once we ride past that, we get to the library. More time to hurry up and wait. We must wait for "high noon" for the ceremonies to start. People make boring as speeches. Horses get restless. Riders get restless. My brother goes to hold a flag (I was expecting disaster at this point). The national anthem is sung. In a moment of sheer stupidity, I decided to take off my hat. My horse decided it was then a good time to leave NOW right the way we came. I put a stop to that, but not before I had ridden about 100 feet and had to ride back. Last time I ever took off my hat. Sam noticed. I would not get to live this down later.
Let me expound a bit on horses and riding them. Riding a horse is not like driving a car. True, they have the same functionality as a car: acceleration (kicking them), brakes (pulling back on the reins), and full power steering. However, a horse is an animal, which means it has personality. They have things they like and dislike (also other horses they like and dislike), and they do take care of their riders so long as their riders take care of them. My horse (Topito is his name) and I didn't hit it off to a great start. It took a couple days before he realized I was trying to take care of him to. After that, we came to an understanding. Once you learn the personality of the horse you are riding, you can have an amazing time bonding with the animal on the trail. However, if any horse wants you off, there is not a power in this universe that can keep you on. Imagine if you will being in a very packed crowd, people brushing up against you on all side. This is very uncomfortable. Horses like it just about as much as people do. They have a more direct way of dealing with it, in the form of kicking and biting. That is what makes this next part pretty insane.
We leave all at once. We cross the Wickenburg bridge in a huge group (about 10 horses wide), and then we must narrow down in a few minutes to ONE HORSE AT A TIME to cross a cattle guard (I would suggest googling this). This is not a good idea. This is where people get kicked or thrown. Luckily, neither happened. The Flag Bearers get to lead everyone out, and my brother did a fantastic job. We met up with him afterwards, and unfortunately got stuck in front of a group of Californios. Pushy bastards. Later, we would end up falling behind by about 50 yards. We could still see hats, which meant we could find the trail. These guys were having none of that, and kept telling my brother to spur his horse and catch up. They earned a nice, Andrew style glare. I didn't even need to tell them to shut the fuck up.
We ride out pretty much in single file for most of the ride. The trail is denoted by markers, which take the form of pink ribbons tied around trees to let you know which way to go if there is a fork in the trail. The weather was beautiful, and it had just rained, so there was absolutely no dust. You couldn't ask for ideal conditions. The trail for the day passed mostly uneventfully, save one minor hiccup. Once we got farther into the desert, we came across a point in the trail where there was an obstacle in the form of a four-foot high rock. The horse had to climb this rock. The procession went Greenie - my dad - my brother - me. The Greenies' horse had a little trouble and stumbled on the way up. My dad's horse, Gonzo, isn't exactly sure footed. He took his time and got up without issue. My brother's horse went up without issue. My horse decided this would be a good place to practice his high jump career and decided to take it in one leap. I don't weigh much, so I came off the saddle a good six inches and slammed my nuts down right into the saddle horn. Ouch.
Monday's ride lasts about 4 and a half hours. The ride was into Sayer's Station. Sayer's station is the ruins of an old post office stop and general store that used to feed the surrounding countryside. It was abandoned long ago, and now servers as our first campsite. The Los Cab camp is on a slight hill, which means putting up your cots gets interesting in the geometry. All heads point uphill. Getting off the trail, the wranglers take our horses to feed and water them, then we go get settled. Once settled, we do more Greenie events (such as have their sponsors embarrass the shit out of them with funny stories), and they do the next Greenie task of getting us all drinks. Once dinner rolls around, we all go eat steak, salad, and potatoes (the ride hires a catering service that moves with us and sets this all up), and retire to the campfire for more drinking and merriment.
If you've never heard me talk about nightfall in Arizona, you will need to know this: as soon as the sun is gone, so is the warmth. There is a good 20-30 degree different between night and day. This week was no exception. Soon, it is very cold, which means people are either huddled up in their bunks or huddled up around the fire. I chose the fire for a while. This gave Sam ample opportunity to admonish me for not taking my hat off for the national anthem. Joy. Monday night is usually a pretty early night, as we have the longest day on Tuesday: 9 hours in the saddle. This is the day when you DON'T want to be hurting. I did my hurting on Monday.
Next update:
High climbs, rivers, rolling horses, and a long ass day. Plenty of fun stuff.
Monday, April 25, 2011
The DC Ride
Let’s start off with the what: The Desert Caballeros Ride is 100 miles on horseback spread over 5 days in the middle of the mountains in Arizona. This ride is all men. No girls allowed. Me and 160 other guys sat our asses on horses and rode around. For five days (well, technically four. We’ll get to that). A lot of you easterners may sit there and think nothing else but “WTF.” However, it’s a lot of fun. Specifically, a lot of DRUNKEN fun. This ride leaves from Wickenburg, the town where my family’s guest ranch sits. My grandfather, Dallas Gant, started this ride along with a few other guys 65 years ago, shortly after he started his guest ranch. Since then, it has become a tradition both for the town of Wickenburg and my family. My Uncle Rusty went on 44 rides. My dad has been on 14, my brother 5. This was my second. One stipulation for the ride is that you have to be 21 years old (because of the booze part). The ride always goes out on a Monday and arrives back in town on a Friday. I leave the Friday before so I can spent a couple days riding beforehand (more on that later too).
As I write this, more details about the ride will emerge. For this update, I’ll focus on the two days before, preparations, gear, and some of the odds and ends associated with this whole escapade.
My first year on the ride, my dad signed himself, my brother and me up for riding the two days before the ride went out. They aren’t long rides, just around an hour or an hour and a half. I was extremely perplexed. I asked him why on earth you would want to do MORE riding than we already had to. His response was one of the funniest things I had ever heard: “To get your ass in shape.” The rationalization is that if you ride the two days before, your ass and knees hurt on Monday instead of on Tuesday. This is pretty crucial, as Tuesday is the really long day in the string of riding with anywhere from 7 to 9 hours in the saddle.
So, Saturday morning, my brother and I get up, eat breakfast, head to the corral, and get ready to mount up. We were riding with a group of other guys from our camp, including Eddie and Sam. You’re going to read their names a lot over the string of updates. They are the practical jokers of the camp, and are responsible for most of the pranks that get played on the new guys. My first year, they ducked taped me in bed, ducked taped a blow-up doll to me in bed, and had me arrested by the deputies that come along the ride with us. For that morning’s ride, they had put a pair of little girl’s panties around my saddle horn. Recognizing the use for this, I kept them for later (revenge is always funny). We ride around, and I realize that I got put on a horse that spooks. I would eventually learn over the next hour that I cannot do the following things around this horse:
1. Take off my hat
2. Have anything brush against my hat
3. Make sudden noises
4. Put on my saddle bags fast
5. Have something strange enter his peripheral vision
My brother was put on a horse that kicks. I guess the wranglers didn’t want to make it easy on either of us this year. I get my horse calmed down after a string of spooking right when we left the corral, and I realized that it was going to be a long week of constant vigil to make sure I didn’t go careening off into the sunset on top of a horse that ran away from my hat like it had just see C’thulhu.
The next part of Saturday and Sunday that the sentiment of “getting your ass in shape” for the ride applies to the drinking. A LOT of drinking happens on the ride and before, and getting your tolerance up for liquor is a must. If you don’t do this, you’re liable to have bad things happen to you , such as dehydration or being duct taped in bed. There are two main parties before the ride goes out: the Camp Party and the El Presidente Party.
Let me elaborate on the camps a bit. The ride is divided up into various camps of guys, which are just groups of us. Some of us have batboys (people who drive the u-haul truck with most of our gear to each campsite...we’re not barbarians), some don’t, but there are differences between the camps. I’ll list them and some of their traits now:
Los Cab:
Our camp. We are named for the Rancho de Los Caballeros (my family’s ranch). We have one batboy, Tommy. Tommy could sleep through a nuclear apocalypse standing up. He snores like a freight train (quite literally), and can be pretty useless at times. There are about 40 of us, and most of us are good natured. We do have our assholes though.
Californios:
These guys mostly hail from California, and they’re all a bunch of pushy bastards. These guys, along with the Honkers, need to be RIGHT UP FRONT in the line of riders, and if you’re not going fast enough, they pass you (which can be really dangerous), or they start being pricks and tell you to spur your horse or make snide comments about how slow the ride is this year.
Honkers:
Named because they have duck calls, and like to use them. Don’t ask why. Also pushy bastards. These guys are famous for their coffin. They have a real coffin, painted red, that has an inside lined with porn. They keep their booze in it (you really can’t make this shit up).
Remuda Ranch:
Another guest ranch. These guys have a fleet of five batboys who wait on them hand and foot. They don’t even have to set up their own bunks. Because our guest ranch is a four-star resort, these guys like to claim that we’re the rich guys. Like hell. Batboys are expensive, and they pay lots for them. My brother put his response to them quite succinctly: “It’s not our fault we have a FUNCTIONING guest ranch.” (he doesn’t realize he’s not helping)
Poor Boys and the Cheapskates:
I lump these guys together because they used to be one camp. Back in the day, there was a big camp argument with these guys about whether or not to get a batboy. It was pretty much split down the middle evenly. The argument was so heated, and the sides so unwilling to compromise, they agreed to split the camp in two. The Poor Boys were so named because they shilled out the money for a batboy. The Cheapskates are so named because they were too cheap to get one.
So there’s your little bit of DC history regarding camps. Saturday night, one person in camp hosts the Camp Party, where we all gather, eat, drink cocktails, and get introduced to the Greenies. The Greenies are so named because it’s they’re first year on the ride, and this is noted by a strip of green tape on their badge. This is not supposed to come off until the ride ends on Friday. We had two Greenies this year, and one of them took off his stripe before the Camp Party. This pretty much means he was marked for every prank ever. This was noted by Eddie and Sam, and they were pissed. Retribution for these kinds of things is terrifying, righteous, and merciless. I am so glad the shit they did to me was tame in comparison. You’ll have to wait for the Tuesday update for that though.
Before we get to Sunday, my brother and I found out something hilarious and scary at the same time: my brother had been chosen (without anyone informing him) that he would be carrying the American Flag out of town. Horses don’t usually like flags. Nathan’s kicked. This was going to need training. We all enjoy the rest of the cocktail hour, head back to the ranch for dinner, eat, go to the ranch’s bar, and drink until we pass out. Before passing out in our room, my brother and I got into a yelling fight about computer security (because apparently we’re all pompous pricks for telling people that what they do is wrong and able to be compromised. I was having NONE of that shit).
Sunday, we ride to a breakfast cookout, ride back, and Nathan and his horse get some flag training. The rest of the day is pretty much dedicated to gear prep. Things we need include: bedroll with sleeping bag, chaps, saddlebags, bag packed with clothes and other things we need in camp, shotgun, cots (I don’t have one, my brother and dad do), hats, gloves, bandannas, tarp (we call it the wall-to-wall), nice water bottles, boots and spurs. You also pack lots of button up (western style) long sleeve shirts. Thorns are nasty.
Then comes the El Presidente Party, where we get all doled up in our western finest, and go eat and drink more. There is also a silent auction that benefits the ride, where a whole bunch of stuff is sold. It can range from western jewelry and art to saddle blankets and new spurs. It’s all fun stuff. Once we have dinner, drink at the bar more, we then retire and get ready for Monday.
Monday morning, all hell breaks loose. Organized hell, anyway.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Strolls Down Memory Lane
I have a very good memory. That is not to say that it is photographic. Far from it. I just have a very strong ability to recall things in my past. This is especially strong for movie quotes, videogames, things I have read, and music. It is even more potent for conversations.
This ability comes in handy quite often. However, there are certain times where this ability really is not all that it is cracked up to be. When my brain takes me back to certain conversations, I tend to feel the emotions of the situation over again. It’s probably not as strong as it was at the time, but damn if it doesn’t feel shitty. I wish I could forget a lot of these memories. The bad ones stick with me the worst. Some of the good ones stick with me too. There get to be some weird ones splashed in there too.
I remember leaning on a car in my high school parking lot, talking to my ex (before we were dating, this is while we still did the fuck buddies thing). She was confessing to me that she had sex with another guy, and wanted to keep doing it, but also wanted to keep what we had. I told her that I wasn’t mad, and that I had no reason to be. She had fulfilled my one request for the whole situation: be honest. I asked that of her when we had started. In truth, I wasn’t mad. The part of it that makes me think is that I really wasn’t upset or angry at all. I drove home afterwards wondering the whole time why I didn’t really care.
I dated her for a long time during my first years of college. It’s funny when I look back and think about trying to build a loving relationship and a foundation of trust on a situation that started off so incredibly screwy.
I remember getting drunk with a coworker two years ago. He was convincing me to transfer to a different section of the IT department at my college. I was relaying all the things that I was unhappy with, with some embellishments. I was pretty drunk. When I was done, he explained to me how things had become worse since he had started working at IT, but his apathy had kept him from quitting. He relayed exactly how things would go if I stayed. I watched another of my coworkers lose his drive and cease caring about the job. I didn’t. I went to another job where my work was more valued. The coworker I was having the discussion with spent two hours convincing me that I needed to transfer or I would burn out. So I did.
Today, I was present for another conversation. One of the managers was lamenting how the management should have done more to keep another person from doing exactly what I did: transfer to the networking section. I laughed today when he was done, and told him that I’m glad nothing changes around the department. It’s good to see that students recognize a horrible thing when they see it, even if there are so few of us.
Those two hours of listening still haunt me. I cannot describe how refreshing it was to have that much of a breath of fresh air. I had a way out. All I had to do was take it. So I did.
Coming up with a specific bad memory is really hard. Choosing between all the good examples isn’t exactly fun. I think I have a good one though.
My girlfriend and I were getting ready to go to bed. She was in bed, I had just finished brushing my teeth. Normal night. My phone starts to ring. The number belongs to a friend of mine. He used to be my best friend. I couldn’t believe it. I smiled as I answered the phone. He hadn’t called me in months. I really didn’t know what to say. I let him talk. His phone got passed around between him and his girlfriend, relating her new job. How it was good to have a job and look for apartments. Then, it came down to the real business. He got back on to inform me that she was having computer problems, and this was the real reason he called me. Not to share good news, not to bullshit, he calls me late at night because his girlfriend has a computer problem that he cannot solve.
A few of my fellow computer science buddies and I have a certain philosophy when dealing with friends. We have our friends, and then we have the people who have been knocked down to the level of people who only call us for computer problems.
I strangely don’t remember the problem. I very vividly remember telling them the computer needed to go back to the IT department to get a piece of hardware replaced. I remember most vividly the conversation afterwards with my girlfriend, where she finally understood why I looked so upset. I’ve never had to put someone who was my best friend on the list of people who only call when they have a computer problem. I wish I had words to describe the feeling. I really don’t think I could ever put words to that in a million years. Emptiness, despair, and sorrow just don’t seem to do it justice.
I didn’t drink that night, thank god. I didn’t really sleep though. Lying awake with that emotion is horrible, and I hope that I never have to do it again. I wish I had just hung up the phone or not answered it entirely. Then I could have stayed a little more ignorant of the problem for a while.
The bad memories fill my thoughts a lot, along with the “what ifs” that go with them. What if I had said something different? What if I hadn’t gone with that person? What if I had decided to believe one person over another? Honestly, I’ll never know, and it is probably useless to spend my time wondering.
But I remember them all so readily. So I wonder. I try not to let it drive me insane. Fortunately, holding my girlfriend when I go to bed takes care of most of that. It’s the little stuff. This turned out a lot more depressing than I wanted it to, but I’m going to post it anyway. I apologize if this entry was too "live journal-y." Hopefully the next one will be less personal and more funny. Just the way the ball bounced tonight.
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