Above: Party attendee, deejay and long-time friend, Igor, drives a stake through the cardboard Falwell's heart.
What do you do when a particularly hateful God-bag (not a word I coined, unfortunately) kicks it? If you are in the Goldstream Valley with a bunch of leftie, liberal, libertarianish, free thinking, Bohemian types, you celebrate the reduction in hate-masquerading-as-religion and throw a party to do so.
And there was beer drinking. We are all strong proponents of beer drinking.
Of course, I also found myself having what I thought was a perfectly normal -- if a bit sloshy -- conversation by the fire about shooting squirrels (and my 2006 war on 'Bob') with a young woman who was, shall we say, disturbed by the idea of taking out the evil little creatures. She made a remark about "Red Fern" and skedaddled.
I am so proud to finally work that word into a post.
The highlight for me was when Rosario, my possible dog/alien and obsessive squirrel tree-er, got loose and rather than run off and get into trouble with The Law again, stood in the yard barking at the cardboard mockup of Falwell. She might be an extraordinary pain in the ass, but at least she got that right. Party attendees were very impressed by her - and I got a few pictures as proof.
So to summarize: beer-drinking, burning of mockup, an appearance by Tinky Winky (which is still in my yard), followed by fog machine, black lights, music and dancing in the cabin. I'm not sure what all followed after 1:30 a.m., not because of the alcohol, but because that is when I grabbed my thermarest and sleeping bag and went out to the Soob to get a decent night's sleep. Unlike everyone else, I had to go to work at 9 a.m. that morning.