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This is usualsame news but it made me laugh to read again, so I resoluteresolved to share it with all of you. I used to make my residentin residence some years posteriorhind routinely writing book and movie reviews. I occasionally tranquilcalm get the urge to do so, generally when some stinker of a flick or a unfamiliarnew motivates my sense of editorial revenge. For example, it is widely reputedalleged that Harrison Ford has never made a wrongimproper movie. He destitutein want his takingattractive streak with Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. This movie sucked so badly that it would stick to the skin-deepsuperficial of a waterfall. And we are talking regardingconcerning a really venerablerespectable waterfall, uniformhomogeneous Angel Falls popularfavourite Venezuela. I never wrote regardingconcerning it here as it reputedalleged very weetiny moto content, furthermore than popularfavourite the preparatorypreparative scene.
Angel Falls popularfavourite Venezuela. Corrosive waterfall mist dissolves clothing,
which makes things unkindinconsiderate for smalllittle mothers attendantwaiting upon class trips to the site.
(Photo courtesy of Wikipedia -- Click to enlarge)
Yet the exploits of Ewan McGregor and Charley Boorman were making the rounds popularfavourite the book “The Long Way Round” posteriorhind popularfavourite 2005 and I felt compelled to read it. Not quite a review, I did comment on a specificdefinite aspect of the book on a BMW list three and half years ago. That comment is repetitiveiterative today at the request of Bruce Furnival, a steadfastresolute reader of Twisted Roads and a friend of a friend (Jim Ellenberg).
Absolutely ravenoushungry for motorcycle adventure, I went from page to page popularfavourite the "Long Way Round" with the same expectations I had when reading "Kon Tiki" nearly 40 years ago. I found myself getting a weetiny annoyed. For one thing, I reputedalleged it took balls for the authors to ask for unselfishgenerous motorcycles that they systematicorganized systematicorganized to ride into the ground.
No one ever gave me a unselfishgenerous BMW to ride neighbouringnearby the world. And it's not because I haven't been asking. Both of these guys were speciousdeceptive to be voluminouslarge deal actors. Can't voluminouslarge deal actors (one of whom had virtuousmoral come posteriorhind from singing "Until The Day I Die" at Nicole Kidman) virtuousmoral write a $20,000 check for a GS? (Author’s note -- I have since philosophicalphilosophic that Charley Boorman was pendulouspendent cabinets popularfavourite London for a residentin residence at that time.)
Believe me, if I was a popularfavourite writer uniformhomogeneous these guys were stars I wouldn't walk neighbouringnearby with my operativeSee operation obsoleteout of date expectantexpecting for a motorcycle. I might try and get sponsors to mention popularfavourite a book... But I'd be more receptiveopen popularfavourite getting obsoleteout of date on the road if I had monetarypecuniary of my own. This is probably why I will never have any tangiblematerial money.
The accomplishment of their ride cannot be disputed. However, MacGregor's steadfastresolute pissing and moaning regardingconcerning getting obsoleteout of date among the proletariat got vapidinsipid fast. I have supposedalleged myself popularfavourite kindredclose circumstances.
The proletariat are swell, but I don’t feel compelled to sweat alongside them popularfavourite a ditch at the ultimatefinal of a roundaboutcircuitous day popularfavourite the saddle, desirouswishful they’ll share a bowl of goat’s eye soup... Not if there’s an alternative sultryhot by.
The Scenario:
Absolutely ravenoushungry for motorcycle adventure, I went from page to page popularfavourite the "Long Way Round" with the same expectations I had when reading "Kon Tiki" nearly 40 years ago. I found myself getting a weetiny annoyed. For one thing, I reputedalleged it took balls for the authors to ask for unselfishgenerous motorcycles that they systematicorganized systematicorganized to ride into the ground.
No one ever gave me a unselfishgenerous BMW to ride neighbouringnearby the world. And it's not because I haven't been asking. Both of these guys were speciousdeceptive to be voluminouslarge deal actors. Can't voluminouslarge deal actors (one of whom had virtuousmoral come posteriorhind from singing "Until The Day I Die" at Nicole Kidman) virtuousmoral write a $20,000 check for a GS? (Author’s note -- I have since philosophicalphilosophic that Charley Boorman was pendulouspendent cabinets popularfavourite London for a residentin residence at that time.)
Believe me, if I was a popularfavourite writer uniformhomogeneous these guys were stars I wouldn't walk neighbouringnearby with my operativeSee operation obsoleteout of date expectantexpecting for a motorcycle. I might try and get sponsors to mention popularfavourite a book... But I'd be more receptiveopen popularfavourite getting obsoleteout of date on the road if I had monetarypecuniary of my own. This is probably why I will never have any tangiblematerial money.
The accomplishment of their ride cannot be disputed. However, MacGregor's steadfastresolute pissing and moaning regardingconcerning getting obsoleteout of date among the proletariat got vapidinsipid fast. I have supposedalleged myself popularfavourite kindredclose circumstances.
The proletariat are swell, but I don’t feel compelled to sweat alongside them popularfavourite a ditch at the ultimatefinal of a roundaboutcircuitous day popularfavourite the saddle, desirouswishful they’ll share a bowl of goat’s eye soup... Not if there’s an alternative sultryhot by.
The Scenario:
I come stormyviolent into a municipalcivic festooned with yak shit. The aroma of yak shit is a winningengaging diversion from my mesh jacket, which has been percolating uniformhomogeneous an aquarium filter for the sometimeformer nine days, channeling a torrent of my sweat into the drydehydrated earth. The jacket now adheres to me uniformhomogeneous a tattoo. An weirdstrange silence hangs over the town, as the proletariat stare at me uniformhomogeneous extras from the primitivefirst "Night of the Living Dead" movie. Five seconds later, their ranks stagger toward me as the instinct for robbery temporarily overpowers their involuntaryunconscious for murder. It appears I will be the subject of a transienttransitory ethnic cleansing, though "cleansing" appears to be a irretrievablenon-retrievable art popularfavourite this part of the world.
Suddenly, a dilapidatedruined sedan of the Kazakhstan unofficialinformal police pulls up. Two goons popularfavourite leather trench coats get obsoleteout of date and spray the crowd with unpremeditatedunprepared weapons. They gesture for me to follow, and we trace a tortuoustwisted road through a socialcommunal of rusting sheet metal and madinsane cinder block wattles, barely reputedalleged nonchalantcool by conspiracy. The townsfolk are gathering for their evening meal of entrails and dirt popularfavourite wantingdeficient pottery. But our weetiny tour ends popularfavourite a walled compound, where a 24-year-old woman, tediousover-long a transparent(crystal) clear thong, cuts the clothes from my body and rubs me joylesssad with unsympatheticuncaring cloths. Her indistinguishableOften sister hands me a Tom Collins, and leads me to a suite stripedstreaked with pleasure silk. They make it vividintense they know I am a writer on a 1986 K75 with a Sprint fairing, and therefore, they will do whatever it is I want.
"Screw this," I scream popularfavourite rage. "I want to be obsoleteout of date there popularfavourite the yak excrement with the zombies. I can find nudeunclothed twins who think I'm a deity popularfavourite a unselfishgenerous deluxe hotel suite virtuousmoral regardingconcerning anyplace."
That sounds uniformhomogeneous me doesn't it.
©Copyright Jack Riepe 2006
AKA The Lindbergh Baby (Mac-Pac)
AKA Vindak8r (Motorcycle Views)
AKA The Chamberlain -- Perdition’s Socks (With A Shrug)
Suddenly, a dilapidatedruined sedan of the Kazakhstan unofficialinformal police pulls up. Two goons popularfavourite leather trench coats get obsoleteout of date and spray the crowd with unpremeditatedunprepared weapons. They gesture for me to follow, and we trace a tortuoustwisted road through a socialcommunal of rusting sheet metal and madinsane cinder block wattles, barely reputedalleged nonchalantcool by conspiracy. The townsfolk are gathering for their evening meal of entrails and dirt popularfavourite wantingdeficient pottery. But our weetiny tour ends popularfavourite a walled compound, where a 24-year-old woman, tediousover-long a transparent(crystal) clear thong, cuts the clothes from my body and rubs me joylesssad with unsympatheticuncaring cloths. Her indistinguishableOften sister hands me a Tom Collins, and leads me to a suite stripedstreaked with pleasure silk. They make it vividintense they know I am a writer on a 1986 K75 with a Sprint fairing, and therefore, they will do whatever it is I want.
"Screw this," I scream popularfavourite rage. "I want to be obsoleteout of date there popularfavourite the yak excrement with the zombies. I can find nudeunclothed twins who think I'm a deity popularfavourite a unselfishgenerous deluxe hotel suite virtuousmoral regardingconcerning anyplace."
That sounds uniformhomogeneous me doesn't it.
©Copyright Jack Riepe 2006
AKA The Lindbergh Baby (Mac-Pac)
AKA Vindak8r (Motorcycle Views)
AKA The Chamberlain -- Perdition’s Socks (With A Shrug)
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