Skiing buzzed

[iceman]

For the record: Neither is my wife.

heh.

Where is "BRD" by the way?

[subtle plague]

the bundesrepublik deutschland that is.
where people voted for the jamaican coalition

and the good thing about pop music is: the younger people are always right.
concerning troy i got this:

the funny thing is: that is a famous band from the BRD. coincidence ? I THINK NOT !!!!!
edit: no theryre not called troy, but they had a single (quite good actually) thatw as called that way.

[schindlerpiste]

heh.

Where is "BRD" by the way?

Just a playful reply to Yogachik's response to my off-color compliment.
BRD = Fulda, Germany

[aspenskibum]

For the record: Neither is my wife.

feed her those f ing pills and see if you can't change that
hurry up and do it pansy

by the way, can you snort ludes?

[Sluff Vertigo]

There we were, sitting at a table in some schwanky Newport Beach restaurant on the water, long haired and fukked up, amidst the upper crust of SoCal society. We were animals out for the feast. The ludes were kickin in. We'd just awakened from the previous night in time to get to dinner. The last thing I remembered was nailing Linda on the living room floor and seeing flashes of light. When I woke up, every piece of furniture in the house was in splinters. We flipped a wad of cash on the counter to compensate our friend whose house we'd destroyed, and went back to our pad on the peninsula to sleep off the ludeover we all had. We woke up again hungry, starving for some of that lobster down the backbay.

Linda had an unreal tolerance level, so we had her drive. She could devour every drug put in front of her and maintain a composure of complete sobriety. Steve had scripts for ludes from seven different doctors. He had some kidney and liver issues due to his endless indulgence in the area code tabs. He had no problem vegging anywhere at any time. It was his identity. We named him 'Primo' after he had somehow acquired a VW van shipped in from Afghanistan that had been packed to the gills with opiated black Afghani primo. The lobster was good. That's all I remember. They told me later that I had buckled full-face into my plate and they had to carry me out of the restaurant. I seem to recall these old broads dissing me through their diamond-encrusted horn-rimmed glasses. I don't know, I was a bit...relaxed.

Linda had a sweet little Kharmann Ghia convertible. Passed out in the passenger seat, I came to long enough in Seal Beach to see Linda go into a bar looking for some musician friends from Hawaii playing there that night. Steve was long gone in the small space that was not quite a back seat. I was still slumped, and Linda was cruisin along as if it was just another night. I saw her walk into the bar, then I floated away....

The next thing I know, Linda and I are going at it on a bed. And I can hear Steve screaming in the distance, "Where are my people? Sluff! They're calling the cops on me! Where are my people? Sluff Vertigo! They won't tell me where you are!" It's hard to quit having sex while on ludes for the purpose of answering the voices in your head. I shook it off. But they came back. "Sluff... Help!" It was Steve. He needed help. I knew the welfare of my buddy had to come before I did. Or Linda. Like a kick to the nuts, I came back to reality and charged to the door, swinging it open. Ass naked. I had no idea where the hell I was, but there, one foot away, stood the lady who managed the hotel Linda had checked us into. She displayed some shock, but held her ground. Steve is yelling from three stories down in the parking lot. "You left me in the car. I woke up and asked her to tell what room you were in. She said, 'We don't want your kind' and called the cops."

"That's my brother," I said as Linda handed me a towel, "He's with us." She glanced me over and left. Turns out we were on PCH on the far end of Malibu. Linda had ferried us from the south end of LA, to it's northernmost border. Man, that chick could drive..........

15 years later Steve showed me the pictures he'd taken the night the friends apartment got totalled.

[aspenskibum]

nice, uh story there, but its worthless without posting said pics

also, why are't ludes still around? i've never had one, being a bit before my time, but they sound like good wholesome fun. and just out of curiosity, can you snort ludes, or can you only swallow them? I like snorting things.

[Big Tim]

This reminds me of a story........

[jonesy]

Greasers and hot knifing uuummmmm. Sluff's old school drugy. Member the Tia sticks Sluff.

[str8line]

There we were, sitting at a table in some schwanky Newport Beach restaurant on the water, long haired and fukked up, amidst the upper crust of SoCal society. We were animals out for the feast. The ludes were kickin in. We'd just awakened from the previous night in time to get to dinner. The last thing I remembered was nailing Linda on the living room floor and seeing flashes of light. When I woke up, every piece of furniture in the house was in splinters. We flipped a wad of cash on the counter to compensate our friend whose house we'd destroyed, and went back to our pad on the peninsula to sleep off the ludeover we all had. We woke up again hungry, starving for some of that lobster down the backbay.

Linda had an unreal tolerance level, so we had her drive. She could devour every drug put in front of her and maintain a composure of complete sobriety. Steve had scripts for ludes from seven different doctors. He had some kidney and liver issues due to his endless indulgence in the area code tabs. He had no problem vegging anywhere at any time. It was his identity. We named him 'Primo' after he had somehow acquired a VW van shipped in from Afghanistan that had been packed to the gills with opiated black Afghani primo. The lobster was good. That's all I remember. They told me later that I had buckled full-face into my plate and they had to carry me out of the restaurant. I seem to recall these old broads dissing me through their diamond-encrusted horn-rimmed glasses. I don't know, I was a bit...relaxed.

Linda had a sweet little Kharmann Ghia convertible. Passed out in the passenger seat, I came to long enough in Seal Beach to see Linda go into a bar looking for some musician friends from Hawaii playing there that night. Steve was long gone in the small space that was not quite a back seat. I was still slumped, and Linda was cruisin along as if it was just another night. I saw her walk into the bar, then I floated away....

The next thing I know, Linda and I are going at it on a bed. And I can hear Steve screaming in the distance, "Where are my people? Sluff! They're calling the cops on me! Where are my people? Sluff Vertigo! They won't tell me where you are!" It's hard to quit having sex while on ludes for the purpose of answering the voices in your head. I shook it off. But they came back. "Sluff... Help!" It was Steve. He needed help. I knew the welfare of my buddy had to come before I did. Or Linda. Like a kick to the nuts, I came back to reality and charged to the door, swinging it open. Ass naked. I had no idea where the hell I was, but there, one foot away, stood the lady who managed the hotel Linda had checked us into. She displayed some shock, but held her ground. Steve is yelling from three stories down in the parking lot. "You left me in the car. I woke up and asked her to tell what room you were in. She said, 'We don't want your kind' and called the cops."

"That's my brother," I said as Linda handed me a towel, "He's with us." She glanced me over and left. Turns out we were on PCH on the far end of Malibu. Linda had ferried us from the south end of LA, to it's northernmost border. Man, that chick could drive..........

15 years later Steve showed me the pictures he'd taken the night the friends apartment got totalled.

Is that taken from someone's book? If not, you ought to be published. Good sluff...err, stuff.

[DBdude]

You can pretty much snort anything. Kinda like Tonghands snorting Altoids, it might not be that pleasant, but it can be done. You just have to get the shit it to your bloodstream.

When I freshman in high school, a senior in my neighborhood said he snorted Contact pills. That's pretty core.

[tetsuma]

At the risk of sounding old…
When The Canyons was Park West, and Quaaludes were the good-time drug of choice, we would frequently eat one or two, drink a beer or two, smoke a spleef or 5 and meander down what is now Super Condor while listening to Wharf Rat on the loud speaker. .... <snip>.... The question becomes, do I dump them? Are they still good? …it’s been since the early ‘80s. Do I feed one to my wife and get sloppy?

Schindlerpiste - I had a g/f in college who was a pharmaceutical chemist grad student. She did a lot of, ehem, research into making things... I know from her that methaqualone oxidizes fairly quickly, which is probably why the pills were so large -- lots of antioxidants/filler added to stabalize the stuff. So, it's likely after all this time, they have degraded. Now, if they were in a closed vile with minimal oxygen and no UV light exposure, you might be lucky - especially if they were real (not bootlegs). LEt folks know how they work.

One side question: how the heck could you ski on those things? Too goofy on motor control for me.
David

[gonzo]

You and Steve need to hang out with Splat.

[Sluff Vertigo]

Thanks, I hope to put some of those days down in type, eventually. Just got a little nostalgic for a moment. Here's when Steve got his....

Steve ended up in Laguna Beach. He was a small guy, but trained pretty hard at his matial arts. He'd fight anybody. He got that way after a college football team tried to steal a keg from him in Missoula and he got his ass kicked real hard. But he was a space cadet. He always heard what he wanted to hear. Never listened to good advice.

We went in together on a little gold mine in Nevada during the gold rush of the eighties. I was working it, chasing disappearing veins in some old adits dug in the 20's. Steve drove up from Laguna in his Porsche to hang out. He liked to hang out in the urban cowboy bars of SoCal. He had anaconda boots and a big belt buckle and used to sit around and keep city slickers glued to a pile of bullshit he'd spoon feed them about how he lost his horse Misty on a tumble off a cliff. It was all so incredulous, I didn't believe him til I went to the urban cowboy bar with him once. Dude was gettin laid by a different chick each night.

Buttfuckington, Nevada - Steve shows up. I'm staying in the local hotel, dirty as hell. Fit right in with the locals. Steve shows up in his urban cowboy garb, standing out like an oil well fire in downtown LA. We sit at a bar and play quarter slots and drink. He nudges me and says "That little cutie down a the end of the bar wants to fuck me." I'm like "You're hallucinating, dude. This is a really weird town. You don't want to get to know these people." Within two minutes, he's talking with the blond. Within seven minutes, he's back over to me. "Hey, what room are we in? I'm headin' over to her place to smoke some dope." I hard-eye him for the final warning, " Dude, this is a really weird place, watch out. Later." I tell him the room number and he's gone. I go back to the hotel and crash, just knowing he's gonna get in some shit and I'll probably find him in jail in the morning.

About 4am, there's a knock on the door. It's Steve. He's all "Oh my God, I can't believe what happened." I'm like, "Yeah, tell me in the morning." And Steve being Steve, the guy I grew up next door to as a kid who was like a brother to me, forced me to stay awake long enough to hear of his evening out. He says he went to the chick's house. Some guy who was her roommate was there. They smoked a joint, then she took him in the bedroom. " Man, she was tight," he says, "I popped my third nut and I'm going for the fourth, really workin for it. I kept noticing these lights flashing. I didn't really pay much attention, ya know, cause I was going for the fourth nut. Finally, I realized her roommate was taking pictures. But I didn't care, cause I was getting close." I could only shake my head as I said " I told you it was a weird fucking town." But that wasn't the end of his story.

"So I'm really going for it and I'm gonna get that last nut, and I'm really close. And all the sudden I feel someone licking my butt. It's her roommate!" he says. "Then the guy is trying to mount me. And I'm like 10 seconds away from popping my nut and this guy is trying to fuck me in the ass, but I want to pop a nut, so I'm humping her and I have one arm behind my back pushing this guy away cause I wanna get off." As he demonstrates the motions he was making, humping and waving one arm behind his back, I'm on the floor almost pissin my pants laughing. From that day on, that town was known to both of us as Buttfuckington, Nevada.

[aspenskibum]

You can pretty much snort anything. Kinda like Tonghands snorting Altoids, it might not be that pleasant, but it can be done. You just have to get the shit it to your bloodstream.

When I freshman in high school, a senior in my neighborhood said he snorted Contact pills. That's pretty core.

well yea, of course you CAN, i know its possible, but like vicadin pills that are 5mg vic and 500 tylenol, its a bad idea, and also, what i really meant, is will it get you high?

[aspenskibum]

also, sluff, do you write for a ski mag or something? if so, or if not i guess, you should consider writing some other type of shit. You got some good stories, and can write too.

I also just thought that we need a new tgr forum category, DRUGS.

[iceman]

Yeah you can snort ludes, it works. Just don't smoke 'em, it tastes like burning tires.

[BakerBoy]

also, sluff, do you write for a ski mag or something? if so, or if not i guess, you should consider writing some other type of shit. You got some good stories, and can write too.

I also just thought that we need a new tgr forum category, DRUGS.

Don't encourage Sluff. You're just enabling him! Cue the Poland stories and people huddling in corners!

[aspenskibum]

Yeah you can snort ludes, it works. Just don't smoke 'em, it tastes like burning tires.

smokeing any pill is a bad idea, they all taste like ass, make your pipe taste like ass even after you scrape it, and don't even work any better. Its for mawrks

[FreakofSnow]

Thanks, I hope to put some of those days down in type, eventually. Just got a little nostalgic for a moment. Here's when Steve got his....

Steve ended up in Laguna Beach. He was a small guy, but trained pretty hard at his matial arts. He'd fight anybody. He got that way after a college football team tried to steal a keg from him in Missoula and he got his ass kicked real hard. But he was a space cadet. He always heard what he wanted to hear. Never listened to good advice.

We went in together on a little gold mine in Nevada during the gold rush of the eighties. I was working it, chasing disappearing veins in some old adits dug in the 20's. Steve drove up from Laguna in his Porsche to hang out. He liked to hang out in the urban cowboy bars of SoCal. He had anaconda boots and a big belt buckle and used to sit around and keep city slickers glued to a pile of bullshit he'd spoon feed them about how he lost his horse Misty on a tumble off a cliff. It was all so incredulous, I didn't believe him til I went to the urban cowboy bar with him once. Dude was gettin laid by a different chick each night.

Buttfuckington, Nevada - Steve shows up. I'm staying in the local hotel, dirty as hell. Fit right in with the locals. Steve shows up in his urban cowboy garb, standing out like an oil well fire in downtown LA. We sit at a bar and play quarter slots and drink. He nudges me and says "That little cutie down a the end of the bar wants to fuck me." I'm like "You're hallucinating, dude. This is a really weird town. You don't want to get to know these people." Within two minutes, he's talking with the blond. Within seven minutes, he's back over to me. "Hey, what room are we in? I'm headin' over to her place to smoke some dope." I hard-eye him for the final warning, " Dude, this is a really weird place, watch out. Later." I tell him the room number and he's gone. I go back to the hotel and crash, just knowing he's gonna get in some shit and I'll probably find him in jail in the morning.

About 4am, there's a knock on the door. It's Steve. He's all "Oh my God, I can't believe what happened." I'm like, "Yeah, tell me in the morning." And Steve being Steve, the guy I grew up next door to as a kid who was like a brother to me, forced me to stay awake long enough to hear of his evening out. He says he went to the chick's house. Some guy who was her roommate was there. They smoked a joint, then she took him in the bedroom. " Man, she was tight," he says, "I popped my third nut and I'm going for the fourth, really workin for it. I kept noticing these lights flashing. I didn't really pay much attention, ya know, cause I was going for the fourth nut. Finally, I realized her roommate was taking pictures. But I didn't care, cause I was getting close." I could only shake my head as I said " I told you it was a weird fucking town." But that wasn't the end of his story.

"So I'm really going for it and I'm gonna get that last nut, and I'm really close. And all the sudden I feel someone licking my butt. It's her roommate!" he says. "Then the guy is trying to mount me. And I'm like 10 seconds away from popping my nut and this guy is trying to fuck me in the ass, but I want to pop a nut, so I'm humping her and I have one arm behind my back pushing this guy away cause I wanna get off." As he demonstrates the motions he was making, humping and waving one arm behind his back, I'm on the floor almost pissin my pants laughing. From that day on, that town was known to both of us as Buttfuckington, Nevada.

This one has to be preserved. Nice one splat

[schindlerpiste]

What a disappointment! They turned out to be Clayludes...not quaaludes. Apparently, I made them in Crafts class (along with clay Bongs, etc.) for a checker set. (My Crafts teacher was very cool)! Anyway, with all the talk of halloween, I thought that this would be a great idea for a costume.

[tetsuma]

Thanks, I hope to put some of those days down in type, eventually. Just got a little nostalgic for a moment. Here's when Steve got his....

Steve ended up in Laguna Beach. He was a small guy, but trained pretty hard at his matial arts. He'd fight anybody. He got that way after a college football team tried to steal a keg from him in Missoula and he got his ass kicked real hard. But he was a space cadet. He always heard what he wanted to hear. Never listened to good advice.

We went in together on a little gold mine in Nevada during the gold rush of the eighties. I was working it, chasing disappearing veins in some old adits dug in the 20's. Steve drove up from Laguna in his Porsche to hang out. He liked to hang out in the urban cowboy bars of SoCal. He had anaconda boots and a big belt buckle and used to sit around and keep city slickers glued to a pile of bullshit he'd spoon feed them about how he lost his horse Misty on a tumble off a cliff. It was all so incredulous, I didn't believe him til I went to the urban cowboy bar with him once. Dude was gettin laid by a different chick each night.

Buttfuckington, Nevada - Steve shows up. I'm staying in the local hotel, dirty as hell. Fit right in with the locals. Steve shows up in his urban cowboy garb, standing out like an oil well fire in downtown LA. We sit at a bar and play quarter slots and drink. He nudges me and says "That little cutie down a the end of the bar wants to fuck me." I'm like "You're hallucinating, dude. This is a really weird town. You don't want to get to know these people." Within two minutes, he's talking with the blond. Within seven minutes, he's back over to me. "Hey, what room are we in? I'm headin' over to her place to smoke some dope." I hard-eye him for the final warning, " Dude, this is a really weird place, watch out. Later." I tell him the room number and he's gone. I go back to the hotel and crash, just knowing he's gonna get in some shit and I'll probably find him in jail in the morning.

About 4am, there's a knock on the door. It's Steve. He's all "Oh my God, I can't believe what happened." I'm like, "Yeah, tell me in the morning." And Steve being Steve, the guy I grew up next door to as a kid who was like a brother to me, forced me to stay awake long enough to hear of his evening out. He says he went to the chick's house. Some guy who was her roommate was there. They smoked a joint, then she took him in the bedroom. " Man, she was tight," he says, "I popped my third nut and I'm going for the fourth, really workin for it. I kept noticing these lights flashing. I didn't really pay much attention, ya know, cause I was going for the fourth nut. Finally, I realized her roommate was taking pictures. But I didn't care, cause I was getting close." I could only shake my head as I said " I told you it was a weird fucking town." But that wasn't the end of his story.

"So I'm really going for it and I'm gonna get that last nut, and I'm really close. And all the sudden I feel someone licking my butt. It's her roommate!" he says. "Then the guy is trying to mount me. And I'm like 10 seconds away from popping my nut and this guy is trying to fuck me in the ass, but I want to pop a nut, so I'm humping her and I have one arm behind my back pushing this guy away cause I wanna get off." As he demonstrates the motions he was making, humping and waving one arm behind his back, I'm on the floor almost pissin my pants laughing. From that day on, that town was known to both of us as Buttfuckington, Nevada.

I just gotta know what town this is? I spent an entire summer mapping part of the Great Basin, the year Claude Dallas escaped, and spent lots of time in Eureka and Elko... and both were high on my weird list.

[Adski]

Hold it hold it hold it! That was your bud, Sluff? Last I saw of him, he was cryin about how it tickled real bad and it was really something he wasn't used too...but he kinda liked it. He was swinging, all right...

Tetsuma-
When were you in the Great basin. My old college prof has a story of working for the USGS outside of Lovelock. Probably about mid-1950s or so. They climbed up on this old water tower at an abandoned railroad siding to get a better view, and fuck if there isn't some dude in there there pointing a gun at them. They hopped down and kept working their route. They heard on the news later that night that a con had escaped and was roaming somewhere in the area, and that there was a reward for info leading to his arrest. They figured if they could catch the guy in the tower, they'd get the dough and be able to quit that summer and go back to Yosemite to climb with Warren and Yvon.

They went back to the tower a few days later and looked in the tower. The guy had shot himself and was covered in maggots and mice. They never reported it to the police cause they were afraid they would get in trouble for not reporting it right away, aiding and abetting. He was back in the area the next summer and looked in the tank again. The dude's body was still in there, just a heap of clothes and bones.

Was that you who was with my prof? RIP, Don Currey

[tetsuma]

Tetsuma-
When were you in the Great basin. My old college prof has a story of working for the USGS outside of Lovelock. Probably about mid-1950s or so. They climbed up on this old water tower at an abandoned railroad siding to get a better view, and fuck if there isn't some dude in there there pointing a gun at them. They hopped down and kept working their route. They heard on the news later that night that a con had escaped and was roaming somewhere in the area, and that there was a reward for info leading to his arrest. They figured if they could catch the guy in the tower, they'd get the dough and be able to quit that summer and go back to Yosemite to climb with Warren and Yvon.

They went back to the tower a few days later and looked in the tower. The guy had shot himself and was covered in maggots and mice. They never reported it to the police cause they were afraid they would get in trouble for not reporting it right away, aiding and abetting. He was back in the area the next summer and looked in the tank again. The dude's body was still in there, just a heap of clothes and bones.

Was that you who was with my prof? RIP, Don Currey

That's actually wild, and has some similarity to the events while I was out there. I too was doing rock work -- looking at shallow lagoonal stratigraphies under the Eureka quartzite (for thesis work) in Antelope Valley region (Lone Mountain is the cross section I did). It was 1986, so not 1950s... hadnt yet arrived at that point. But, we did have the FBI and ATF guys all over the place. I was camped up in a place called Ike's Canyon, which is up in the Monitors above the old Potts Ranch, and we happened to have one of the only sources of available water in the valley. Claude had broken out of the pen in IDaho (he had killed a game warden who allegedely was harrassing him; whether it was self defense or not, we'll prob never know). Claude was thought to have high tailed it to the valley and ridges in the great basin, since it was an area he knew well, and was tough terraine.

So, there we are a bunch of gnarly geologists camped out, with feds driving up to us every other day asking if we'd seen him. (The only thing was saw were horse flies, dust, live cows, dead cows, dust devils, and the bar and laundromat when we went into town; my partner and I also got to the see parking lots and reception rooms of a few more socially inclined establishments -- but I only read the news paper while there.)

So, did anyone ever get the guys bones out of that tower? Where was it? Outside of Lovelock? Don Currey, where'd he teach? The name rings a minor bell.

I love the great basin. Although, Eureka was the only place I evee saw the following bumper sticker,

"You can't fool mother nature. Repeal the ERA."

Now that's pure central nevada -- get outta my face.

David

[robokill1981]

One of the best Pete Rock and C.L. Smooth songs out there:

(I reminisce, I reminisce) x3
I reminisce, I reminisce
Uh! (I reminisce, I reminisce)
Yeah (I reminisce, I reminisce)
(I reminisce, I reminisce)
(I reminisce, I reminisce)


Verse One:

[CL]

I reminisce for a spell, or shall I say think back
22 years ago to keep it on track
The birth of a child on the 8th of October
A toast but my granddaddy came sober
Countin all the fingers and the toes
Now I suppose, you hope the little black boy grows, huh
18 years younger than my mama
But I really got beatings cause the girl loved drama
In single parenthood there I stood
By the time she was 21, had another one
This one's a girl, let's name her Pam
Same father as the first but you don't give a damn
Irresponsible, plain not thinking
Papa said chill but the brother keep winking
Still he won't down you or tear out your hide
On your side while the baby maker slide
But mama got wise to the game
The youngest of five kids, hon here it is
After 10 years without no spouse
Momma's gettin married in the house
Listen, positive over negative for the women and master
Mother Queen's risin a chapter
Deja vu, tell you what I'm gonna do
When they reminisce over you, my God


[Pete Rock]

My God
It's so...
Yeah, so lovely
That's how we like to do it in the 90's
Pete Rock & CL Smooth comin' atcha...


Verse Two:

[CL]

When I date back I recall a man off the family tree
My right hand Poppa Doc I see
Took me from a boy to a man so I always had a father
When my biological didn't bother
Taking care of this so who am I to bicker
Not a bad ticker but I'm clocking pop's liver
But you can never say that his life is through
5 kids at 21 believe he got a right too
Here we go while I check the scene
With the Portugese lover at the age of 14
The same age, front page, no fuss
But I bet you all your dough, they live longer than us
Never been senile, that's where you're wrong
But give the man a taste and he's gone
Noddin off, sleep to a jazz tune
I can hear his head banging on the wall in the next room
I get the pillow and hope I don't wake him
For this man do cuss, hear it all in verbatim
Telling me how to raise my boy unless he's taking over
I said pop maybe when you're older
We laughed all night about the hookers at the party
My old man standing yelling good God, almighty
Use your condom, take sips of the brew
When they reminisce over you, for real

[Pete Rock]

For real, baby
Like that
We for real
Comin' atcha...
In '92
Pete Rock & CL Smooth
Yeah, c'mon, hit me!


Verse Three:

[CL]

I reminisce so you never forget this
The days of wayback, so many bear witness the fitness
Take the first letter out of each word in this joint
Listen close as I prove my point
T to the R-uh-O-Y, how did you and I meet?
In front of Big Lou's, fighting in the street
But only you saw what took many time to see
I dedicate this to you for believing in me
Rain or shine, yes in any weather
My grandmom Pam holds the family together
My Uncle Doc's the greatest better yet the latest
If we're talking about a car, Uncle Sterling got the latest
I strive to be live 'cause I got no choice
And run my own business like my Aunt Joyce
So Pete Rock hit me, nuff respect due
When they reminisce over you, listen

[Pete Rock]

Listen, just listen
To the funky song as I rock on
And that's word is bond
I'm not playin
Everybody, just coolin
This song we dedicate
To the one and only
Never be another
he was my brother
Trouble T-Roy
It's like that y'all
And you don't stop
Pete Rock and CL Smooth for '92
And we out, later

[Adski]

Continue thread drift

Tet-
Currey finished his career at U of Utah, Geography Dept. His research was centered on Great Basin lakebed shorelines and other quaternary stratigraphy. Mostly Lake Bonneville. However, his knowledge and familiarity of the Great Basin took him many places.

One of the best packages of shallow lagoon shorelines I've ever seen is in Little Valley, just SW of Lakeside siding at the west end of the Great Salt Lake railroad causeway. He had measured about 20 shorelines in the valley, from Bonneville highstand to the present lake level.

As for the bones of the con, he never went back to the tower to see if they were there. It was at a siding near the Humboldt Sink.

Currey was an incredible storyteller. He met Haile Selassie as a roughneck in a California oilfield about the same time, too. Was in Independence, CA the night they brought Charles Manson in from Death Valley. Incredible man.