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.
5 comments:
And for missing such a party, I will eternally burn in hell. Damn of all the ones to miss - why this one? Well because I was out camping on a gravel bar on the Chena celebrating the arrival of spring with a couple of friends and a lotta wine...which was fun. But there is no denying this was a once in a life time bash - at least until the next God-bag bites it.
Aw, Flic, we missed you. It was a fantastic opportunity for your sarcasm.
Next time!
This is the sort of undignified, irreverent, obstreperous party I absolutely adore. Sounds like you trained your dog right, too.
But, will Falwell really go to hell? What if he goes to heaven, and is appalled to find that the place has lots and lots of Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, and Transsexual people there? My thesis is that for Falwell heaven would be an absolute hell, with all those Gays and Lesbians there. Not that I have anything against Gays and Lesbians. Some of my best friends are Gay guys. Even some of my boyfriends have been Gay guys. In fact, I used to be Gay, myself--that is before I was cured. It took a 5-1/2 hour operation. But, I am no longer a gay guy. Now I am Straight. A Straight woman, actually. Now, I don't have to feel guilty when I gravitate to the lead crystal and English bone china departments in a store, instead of the tools and things that guys gravitate to. I hope that Falwell is given a room across the hall from a Gay couple who had to spend there whole lives in the closet, because of the way Hollywood was way back then, naturally I mean Cary Grant and Randolph Scott. In fact, when Falwell gets there, I hope that Cary Grant runs up to him and says, "Hi Jerry!," then hangs a lip-lock on him. Gee! For Falwell, heaven would be shear hell, wouldn't it? Of course, I have to admit that having spent a big chunk of my life in Fairbanks, Alaska, going through a hot humid summer, this year, in Shreveport, Louisiana has some points of tangency with hell. I also has some points of tangency with heaven--Falwell isn't here, either! :)) ~Terrie
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