Monday, August 31, 2009

Monday morning laugh

A priest, a minister, and a rabbi want to see who’s best at his job. So they each go into the woods, find a bear, and attempt to convert it. Later they get together.

The priest begins: "When I found the bear, I read to him from the Catechism and sprinkled him with holy water. Next week is his First Communion."

"I found a bear by the stream," says the minister, "and preached God’s holy word. The bear was so mesmerized that he let me baptize him."

They both look down at the rabbi, who is lying on a gurney in a body cast. "Looking back," he says, "maybe I shouldn’t have started with the circumcision."

Sunday, August 30, 2009

Hijacking Heaven- Chapter XXXV

Sheppard felt torn. Should he risk what little time they had, to search for Rabbit and leave Malcolm Buck behind? The boy already had a head start on them. No, Sheppard had to trust, that somehow Rabbit knew what he was doing and wouldn’t try anything foolish, or jeopardize their already precarious circumstance further. His first obligation must be to get the others away from the outpost. If Grant had found them, others would too and perhaps were already on their way. It may be only a matter of minutes and Sheppard had to think fast. “Amber look around for something we can use to get Mr. Buck mobile. I’ll get us some transportation. Be quick, OK? And stay clear of Grant’s body.”

Amber nodded and left Buck’s side to search the backroom of the outpost, giving Colonel Grant’s lifeless body a wide birth.

Malcolm Buck sat propped against the counter totally out of it, breathing soundly like he didn’t have a care in the world. Sheppard patted the big man on the shoulder. “Sit tight Malcolm. I’ll be back in a minute.” Sheppard rose to his feet and ran outside to the fenced in compound. There the lifeless body of Len Grimsby lay face down on the ground next to his ATV, the key still in the ignition. The ground was wet from the pool of blood still seeping out of the Ranger and the shrapnel of bone and flesh lay scattered about his exploded chest. “Jesus Len, not the way you want to go out.”

Sheppard reached down and gathered up the last of the remaining tranquilizer darts and loaded the gun he had taken from Grimsby before heading in to combat with Grant.
Sheppard then pushed the bike beyond Len’s body and rolled it back into the compound with the other rentals.

The swing doors flapped as Amber found herself in the backroom of the outpost. It was a room devoid of light from windowless walls. It didn’t appear to be a very large room, just cluttered with supplies and tools slowly shaped out of shadow. It had a stale smell, thick as much as it was humid and a vague reek of urine. A stack of skids towered above her to the right of the door. Amber felt blindly with her hand along the left wall, searching for a switch. Her fingers crept along the cold blocks of concrete, pulling her body with them as one overcome with fear on the ledge of a tall building. Her leg hit a chair and something thumped to the floor in the darkness. Panic started to seize her, sucking the very breath from her lungs. She now slapped at the wall blindly, trying to find light. Her eyes wide with terror. She found a lone receptacle and flipped the switch. Above her a few rows of fluorescent lights blinked from a deep sleep before springing to life and dousing her surrounding with a white brilliance. The body of a young man lay on the floor, dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt with the outpost logo stitched into the left breast pocket. A bull’s nose-ring barbell winked at her from the piercing of a nose wet and black from the sickness. His eyes, still open and gazing right through her, were red from burst blood vessels, the remains of a joint long since extinguished lay on the floor near his chequered high-tops.

Amber covered her mouth and fought her internal urge to scream.

Amid the rows of rentals Sheppard found a small trailer and carted it out to the bike. All the bikes were equipped with hitches and he had no trouble attaching the trailer to it. Above him in the clouds Sheppard heard the distant flutter of a helicopter roar by. We have to move. They’ll be here soon.

Trying to shake his paranoia, Sheppard boarded the ATV and brought the bike to life. He manoeuvred the vehicle around to the front of the outpost and left it running by the veranda next to the front steps. When he returned to Buck’s side he found Amber waiting.

She had an orange, manual forklift, used for moving skids of product from trucks into the back room. “Will this do? It’s all I could find.” Amber said, still a little shaken.

“You did great. This will work just fine…..Are you OK?”

“There’s a dead body in the back room.”

“You didn’t touch it did you?”

Amber looked like she was about to cry.

Sheppard knelt down and hugged her. “I’m sorry. That was a very stupid thing for me to say. Forgive me.”

Amber swallowed hard. “It’s OK Mr. Sheppard. I’m good.”

Sheppard grasped Amber’s shoulders and looked into her eyes at arm’s length. “We’ll be out of here soon. I promise, but we need something to support Malcolm’s body between the forks.”

Sheppard gazed around at the chaos of overturned shelves and supplies caused by his struggle with Grant.

“What about a shelf? Would that do?”

“Good thinking.” He hopped to his feet and grabbed at a metal shelve still attached to the frame and shook the steel prongs loose. He placed the shelf across the dual forks and then pressed the release lever on the handle. The forks lowered with a sigh from the hydraulic lift. “Great, now help me get Mr. Buck onto the lift.”

Amber positioned herself on the far side of the tines and reached over to grab Buck’s bear of an arm, while Sheppard pushed from the other side. Bucks body slid along the counter then fell to the shelf with a thud. The metal dented, but held between the forks. Sheppard then grabbed Buck’s belt and pulled while Amber worked on heaving the man’s massive tree-trunk legs onto the forklift. “Christ Malcolm, could you be any heavier?”

With great effort the two managed to get his body mostly on the forklift. Sheppard used the pump handle to give the wheels some clearance and then began to pull Buck’s body, while his boots dragged on the floor, from behind the counter and out the front door to the waiting ATV. Amber grabbed the backpacks and scurried out before him.

Sheppard positioned the forklift as close as he could to the trailer and gently released the hydraulic lever, lowering Buck to meet the level of the trailer. Together Sheppard and Amber managed through a series of pushes and pulls to get his immense frame into the trailer.

“OK, Amber, give me the backpacks and then we’re off.”

“To where?”

“I don’t know. Away from here for starters. That good with you?”

“Before he left, Rabbit said to stay on the roads. He said to head North, then East out of the park.”

“Amber honey, we can’t do that. The roads will be watched. And you said Rabbit headed south from here. We have to find him next.”

“Going south will take us back toward the ones searching for us.”

“I’m not about to abandon Rabbit. He’s your friend; doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“Of course it does Mr. Sheppard! But I believe Rabbit when he says stuff. If he says take the roads north, I think we should take the roads north. We have to trust him. Besides, how far do you think we’ll get on trails before the trailer gets stuck, or Mr. Buck falls out?”

Sheppard thought for a moment. The girl has a point. Malcolm’s no feather weight and certainly not an all-terrain-type of guy. “Alright, we’ll trust Rabbit, but I’m getting off the road at the first sign of trouble. Agreed?”

Amber nodded affirmatively then handed the back packs to Sheppard. He tucked them in to vacant spots around Buck’s body with one to cushion his head from any unexpected bumps.

The two climbed aboard the bike and Sheppard pulled out. In the distance a series of explosions reached their ears from somewhere to the north. Sheppard slowed the bike to a crawl as plumes of black smoke rose in the distance over the tree line.

Amber cried out, “Rabbit!”

“But how can that be?”

“It’s Rabbit. I feel it.”

“Come on!” Sheppard said and then gunned the motor, kicking up dust. The bike picked up speed quickly on the even road as they headed north. Amber clung to him and with great urgency as more explosions rocked the air around them. Sheppard pushed the bike as fast as he dare without losing their cargo. The ATV swung around turns, as they plowed their way North-West toward the explosions. Above them, seemingly just beyond the trees, two F-18 fighters roared by heading in the same direction.

Saturday, August 29, 2009

Camelot

So guys.....and maybe some women....nothing better to do today than surf the net and waste your time?

Then perhaps a site dedicated specifically to cameltoe is for you.....

Friday, August 28, 2009

Just lazy me on a Friday

So my lazy dog-dangling August continues with yet another quick link-post.

But I know it is one designed to help my brothers in need.

The link says it all.

So my girlfriend just queefed. What now?

Don't look at me. I didn't invent it.

Thursday, August 27, 2009

What pisses me off: part 1



I have to say, I've been pissed off with the White House for sometime now. Specifically one inhabitant- all high and mighty, running a once great country into the ground, a war monger with his finger on the button insuring the rich get richer and damn the poor. Why the man can't even string a cohesive sentence together always assassinating the English language with his back-woods, country bumpkin way. Man I hate that dude and all he stands for, as if his father wasn't bad enough when he ran things.....what? Bush isn't President anymore? Obama is?

OK then. I guess that changes my opinion.

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Vernon great, band not so much



The last time members of Private Sector performed in Vernon B.C. twenty-five years ago, they were fired during sound check. This time the band played not one, but two sold out nights and blazed through impressive, high-energy sets to the delight of the fans in attendance.

Yet, the after party did not go so well, when back at the hotel, the bands guitarist celebrated by doing a cannonball into the hot tub and subsequently broke three fingers in his right hand.

Bassist Don Barley reported on the accident by saying, "given the intricacies of the guitar parts, we probably could have continued on if there had been only two broken fingers- but three?- Damn his Tomfoolery!"

As a result, Sector will fly back home and the remaining gigs on the Canadian leg of the tour will be postponed. It is expected they will be added to the American dates which begin in October.

The affected cities are Jasper, Ponoka, Lethbridge, Red Deer, Edson, Val Dor, Amos, Quebec City, Levee, Davidson, Pettawawa, Ottawa, and Coberg.

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Chart of the week

Choose your own apocalypse

OK Puppet Master, it's all up to you to- as they say in Mexico, "Push de button" and you can add in whatever you want to kill the populace.

See how your senario stacks up. What are you waiting for? Make it blow up real good.

Monday, August 24, 2009

Monday morning laugh

A man, shocked by how his buddy is dressed, asks him, "How long have you been wearing that bra?"

The friend replies, "Ever since my wife found it in the glove compartment."

Sunday, August 23, 2009

Hijacking Heaven- Chapter XXXIV

Rabbit rumbled along the dirt trail leading away from the outpost. He knew Sheppard was alive as much as he sensed the Colonel was now dead, but there was still unfinished business before they could leave the park unhindered. Rabbit cocked his head to the right as if listening to a fading message in a sea of static. He opened up the throttle and the ATV increased in speed. As Rabbit reached the end of the trail and found himself in a clearing intended for campers. In the middle of scattered garden of planted wooden posts with numbers on them stood Grant’s helicopter, a silent and brooding black insect with its blades bowed like the spine of an umbrella ripped of its fabric. Its outstretched wings holding enough fire power to render the surrounding forest to ash.

Rabbit slowed the bike to a crawl and swung up next to the forward cockpit shutting the ATV down. He had played a few video games involving helicopters most notably Apache Havoc, but had spent most of his time flying the Russian Mil-28 Havoc, in the game simulator instead of the Apache Longbow attack helicopter like the one he now stood beside. yet, he knew the principles of all helicopters were basically the same.

The AH 640 D Apache Longbow had been modified for a three man crew, it had 30 mm cannons, 70 mm rockets and 8 ATGM air to air missiles as well as a host of other cool new toys that had been added at the Colonel’s request.

But this was no game. This was true life. This wasn’t perched in the comfort of a computer chair while your chopper sailed across the LCD monitor blowing the hell out of targets and enemy fighters. You didn’t get second and third chances when your mission failed. Rabbit knew the consequences of his actions, but also knew if he didn’t try, the chances of Amber, Sheppard and Malcolm Buck making it out of the park safely were minimal at best. A distraction was needed- something to keep all eyes from watching the roads.

Rabbit stood on the seat of the ATV and grabbed the side of the open cockpit, hoisting himself in. Lights blinked at him from all directions, but the bird was silent, awaiting commands. The computer screens of three display panels sat dormant except for a winking cursor also awaiting instructions. Rabbit swung his body into the seat, straddling the throttle. He grabbed the flight helmet but quickly discarded it when it slid forward impairing all vision. He snapped the four point harness into place and made adjustments until he felt the snugness of the restraints. He moved the flight chair forward to meet the controls, his feet barely able to reach the rear rotor pedals and his groin painfully mashed up against the throttle.

His words echoed as if spoken from someone else. “Here goes nothing.” He pushed a button next to one of the digital readouts and the hatch closed with a swish and a click. He reached for the collective, a bar like control with a rubber handle at his side and slowly twisted it, reanimating the engine to life. “Hope the games are somewhat accurate, or this will be a short flight.”

Above him the blades began to rotate, melting into a thin spinning disc.
The buttons on either side of the screen lit up with intensity as the computer ran a quick check and reported all systems ready.

Rabbit pulled back on the collective slightly. The helicopter moved upward and back. I’m moving back into the trees! Rabbit panicked and quickly over compensated by kicking his feat at the rear rotor controls and moving the cycler-throttle control in front of him, sending the machine lurching forward and to the right. He could see there wasn’t much time before he lost control all together. Rabbit closed his eyes, held his breath and pulled hard on the collective. He let go of the cycler altogether except for his fore finger which he used to touch the apex of the control. The helicopter corrected itself with its auto-stabilization as it cleared the trees. Rabbit opened his eyes and breathed deeply trying to calm himself down, his heart almost thumping through his ribcage, beads of sweat visible on his brow. Just like the video, he told himself over and over.

His fingers once again wrapped around the stick, gingerly this time and with more confidence. He looked out of the cockpit to see he was still ascending while the craft spun slowly in a clockwise motion. He could see the trees were shrinking to a field of green leaving behind the bald spot of his landing pad. He eased the cycler forward and increased the engine power through the collective. The helicopter responded. Rabbit headed North West. Inside the feeling of dread gripped him, growing with each mile, a feeling there was no coming back from this mission.

Rabbit punch at the buttons next to the computer console, a list of weapons, armed and ready, cascaded down the screen ready for deployment.

Saturday, August 22, 2009

Friday, August 21, 2009

A little short in a long August

You may have noticed, not much thought has gone in to my posts the last few weeks.

You're right. This happened last September and October too, where I posted a grand total of 19 times a month.

I call it the mid-year-Blog-wall. Just like a runner pounding his way through a 26 mile marathon, I seem to hit the wall around this time of the year and the posts suffer.

...and why should today be any different?

Here is a power point presentation for "So you've decided to fart in public."

Thursday, August 20, 2009

Body count is in the house

Hey, ever wonder which movies have the highest body count? Well, wonder no more. Here are the top movies where killing is an art form.

I'm sure Inglorious Bastards is going to rank right up there if I know Tarantino.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Hump-day chart of the week

It might come in handy, especially if you are a frequent visitor to the Corral in the Shwa, so here is a link to the Cougar chart.

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Maybe it was the mountain air



Private Sector seemed a little sluggish as they took the stage in Prince George for a gig Saturday night. Perhaps it was the mountain air as the band twists through the Rockies, or maybe the telling signs of a Canadian tour that at times has seemed much longer than it actually has been due to controversy.

The songs seemed rushed and disjointed at times, as if Sector just wanted to get through the night and head off to Vernon where they will stay for a few days before performing again with two shows Friday and Saturday.

Monday, August 17, 2009

Monday morning laugh

A ventriloquist is performing with his dummy on his lap. He’s telling a dumb- blonde joke when a young platinum-haired beauty jumps to her feet.

"What gives you the right to stereotype blondes that way?" she demands. "What does hair color have to do with my worth as a human being?"

Flustered, the ventriloquist begins to stammer out an apology.

"You keep out of this!" she yells. "I’m talking to that little jerk on your knee!"

Sunday, August 16, 2009

Hijacking Heaven- Chapter XXXIII

Rabbit had abandoned Malcolm Buck just inside the door of the outpost and rushed to the lifeless body of Sheppard- his eyes glassy and still open, his shoulder still smouldering as blood bubbled and oozed from the tattered remnants of muscle. Tears poured from Rabbit’s eyes. He felt so helpless. The one man who had tried so hard to protect them all and lead them to safety, was dead.

Amber stood frozen by the boulder, her hands cemented to its surface like suction cups, waiting for her death. Her legs felt like rubber and her body slowly collapsed under her as she slid to a sitting position, her eyes wide with the terror of her own mortality. But death did not come. Colonel Grant suddenly had a more important kill to make first and he wanted Malcolm Buck to be looking at him when he did it. The Colonel turned and walked toward the doorway of the outpost and disappeared inside.

Colonel Grant was feeling quite cocky. Today was one special mother fuckin`day. Days when he killed always were and to do it by himself with no outside help...was a sense of elation no one could put a price on. Two down, two to go. Although Sheppard`s death had been one sweet kill he knew the revenge for his comrade Van Gogh would be equally as sweet. All he had to do was walk through the doorway of the outpost and the prize was his- the wounded bear driven to the edge of exhaustion, cornered with no where left to run, gazing up with sad eyes, defeated eyes, accepting fate. The big Indian drooling like a child on the edge of consciousness would be easy picking and he`d make sure he`d look him square in the eye before he fired point blank into his head to sizzle the gray matter. Watch those eyes explode and brain pan drip from his nostrils like blackened ground sausage. It didn`t get any better that this. Then the Indigo would be his after he disposed of the girl.

Outside Rabbit gazed up from Sheppard’s body. “Amber come here!”

“I can’t.”

“Yes you can. You have to. I can’t do this without you and we don’t have much time.”

“What do you mean? What can I do?”

“You can do what I do. I feel it in you and I need you to help me make him better. The others were too far gone, but Mr. Sheppard just died and together I think we can heal him. I’ll guide you through it.”

Amber willed herself to crawl to Rabbit and the body of Graham Sheppard. Rabbit reached out. “Give me your hands.” Together he placed their hands on Graham Sheppard’s chest. “Now concentrate.”

“On what?”

“On Mr. Sheppard as you knew him alive. I can’t describe it any better than that. Like Mr. Sheppard said before, think of yourself as a car battery. Think of your body as a place where electricity is stored. Release your energy.”

With hands spread across the chest of their fallen guardian, tears streaming down both their faces, the two closed their eyes and concentrated on bringing Sheppard back from the dead.

Sheppard’s body suddenly arched backward as if he’d been shocked and took in a huge gasp of air like a man taking that first sweet breath after a panicked fight to surface from the depths of deep water. His eyes looked at Rabbit and then at Amber with a mixture of clarity and awe. The shoulder wound ceased to seep blood as if someone had found the source of the drip and turned the tap off.

Rabbit looked down at Sheppard and smiled. “I’m sorry I broke my promise not to touch any more dead people Mr. Sheppard.”

Inside the outpost, Grant was surprised to not see the helpless body of Malcolm Buck sprawled out on the floor trying to inch himself away from his imminent death- hold on to a few more seconds of life before he cooked from the inside out.

“Oh come on now my friend. You’re not going to try and hide from me are you? How much longer before you pass out altogether? Then, where’s the fun in killing you after that? I’d have to wait hours for you to wake up. Trust me, I’ll make your death a lot quicker now.”

Buck had pulled himself around to the back of the cash register with his final strength and sat helplessly propped up looking into the office, drool stitching his head to his chest. Miss July smiled smugly from her perch above the bait cooler- a willing voyeur to the big man’s slaughter. He heard Grant enter and start talking to him. Getting the rifle now, was out of the question- all motor functions had abandoned him. He was using all his remaining strength to keep from losing consciousness. All Buck could do was sit with the sound of his own breathing- slow and laboured- and wait for the Colonel to find him and extract his revenge.
He heard Grant’s slow cautious steps as he searched aisle by aisle for his prey and his slow drawn-out question. “Where...are...you?”

The boots were coming closer, until they stopped altogether.
Grant towered over a helpless Malcolm Buck, looking at his glassy eyes, his total paralysis, his inability to even voice a simple thought on how his life would soon be over. He grabbed him by the hair and swung Buck’s head up to look at him. “Well, hello there. Having a bad day are we?”

Buck looked up, his eye lids flickering and getting heavier. He saw Grant wave his gun at him and point the barrel of it between his eyes. “This is for Van Gogh you freak!”

It was the last thing Buck saw before he lost consciousness.

Grant fired but the shot missed its mark as arms wrapped around his throat twisting the face mask to the side and pulling the Colonel off balance as he crashed to the floor with this new adversary on top of him. The face mask peeled up and back and spun off on the tiles like a child’s top and the gun fell to the floor.

“How do you like breathing in your own poison Colonel?!”

“You?” Grant barked in disbelief at hearing Sheppard’s voice. “You’re dead! I watched you die!”

“Maybe your technological advancements aren’t as effective as you thought they were?” Sheppard grabbed the Colonel’s head and with as much force as he could deliver, smashed it into the floor opening up a gash on Grant’s forehead. He then slipped his arms under Grant’s and pushed his head to his chin in a full nelson as he yanked the Colonel to his feet.

Grant lowered his stance and used his hands to grab one of Sheppard’s fingers. He pulled with full force, snapping the bone. Sheppard cried out in pain as Grant swept his left foot in behind Sheppard and used his elbows and his twisting torso to throw his attacker off balance. The two again crashed to the floor with Grant’s arm embedded in Sheppard’s throat breaking the hold. With the palm of his free hand he delivered two blows to Sheppard’s nose. The first strike breaking it; the second sent a charge of pain coursing through his brain.

Grant scrambled to get the gun which lay by the unconscious body of Malcolm Buck. He retrieved it and swung his body around while raising the gun to fire.

Sheppard kicked his leg up hard. The gun sailed from the Colonel’s hand, disappearing down one of the aisles. Grant let out a guttural howl and threw himself on top of Sheppard trying to choke him. Sheppard struggled to break free of the grasp, his wind pipe constricted as his airway closed under the Colonel's vice-like grip. His eyes felt ready to explode from their sockets and a static white light was washing out all shape from his vision. He thrust his hand up blindly into the Colonels face and dug a thumb into Grant’s left eye. Sheppard then kicked upward, connecting his knee into the man’s groin. The Colonel wheezed and rolled to the side as Sheppard coughed and sucked in oxygen in staggered bursts. Blood was now flowing freely from both men.

Winded, but well trained in hand-to-hand combat Grant quickly recovered and sent his elbow into Sheppard’s face opening up a cut above his eye.

The two struggled to their feet and traded blows. Grant with jab to the sternum, Sheppard with a right cross to the Colonel’s jaw. Before Grant could completely recover Sheppard charged forward and heaved the weight of their two bodies into an aisle of camping equipment, toppling backward amid a shower of coolers and folding chairs.

Grant used their momentum to kick Sheppard up and over his body, sending the man sprawling on his back. The Colonel could see his gun five feet away surrounded by the refuse of their battle. Flipping to all fours he slithered like a snake to collect his weapon and kill Sheppard for sure this time. As he reached for the gun he felt the weight of Sheppard’s body crash down on him. Using his knees, he pinned one of the Colonel’s arms to his side and the other in front just out of reach of the trigger. “Don’t move another inch Grant!”

Grant moved his leg up to meet his one arm by his side and used his fingers to search out the hilt of a long Bowie knife hidden in a sheath inside his boot.
Sheppard grabbed Grant’s scalp and lifted his head back, pounding his cheek into the cold floor, putting the Colonel’s face in profile. Grant felt the steel barrel of a gun press to his cheek. “I mean it!”

Grant began to laugh spitting blood as he did so. “Are you threatening me with a tranquilizer dart? What are you going to do Sheppard, put me to sleep like your big Indian friend?” Grant now had his fingers gripped around the hilt of the knife handle, unsnapping the sheath he slowly pulled it free. “I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth until I get what I want.”

“I know Colonel. That’s why it ends here.”

Sheppard put the trang gun to Grant’s right eye and squeeze the trigger. The dart popped his eye and embedded into his brain. Grant twitched madly then went limp. The knife fell with a dull metal clang harmlessly to the floor. He would follow them no more.

Exhausted Sheppard lay gasping for breath on the floor, yet it was like a veil of darkness had been lifted from him. He felt as much as he sensed it; the onset of the sickness was gone. He slowly pulled himself to his feet with the aid of a near-by shelving unit and hobbled over to the counter where Malcolm Buck lay unconscious. He slid to the floor beside his friend. That’s where Amber found him. She ran to Sheppard and knelt beside him, looking on with grave concern.

“It’s OK, I’m better," he said. "I feel good. Where’s Rabbit?”

“Rabbit’s gone.”

“Gone? Gone where?”

“I don’t know he took one of the bikes and rode off. He said he was sorry. He said to tell you he knows what has to be done and not to be mad.”

Saturday, August 15, 2009

Breaking out some August numbers

15 billboards that shouldn't be next to one another.

8 of the funniest videos of reporters taking a beating.

10 of the craziest competitive eating moments.

Up the creek



It's been a while since Private Sector found themselves at mile one of the Alaskan highway eating buffalo burgers and Wednesday night that's exactly where they were before hammering out an impressive two-hour set that featured something for everyone.

Sector plowed through much of their musical catalogue but also sprinkled several covers into the mix which delighted the sold out crowd at the Dawson Arena.

The band now heads south for a gig in Prince George on Saturday.

Thursday, August 13, 2009

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

What the doctor ordered.


A tight set Sunday afternoon on the side stage of Edmonton's Rib Fest was just what Private Sector needed to get past the debacle of Friday's Stoney Plain performance which had the police intervening to break up fights and shut the show down.

Sector maneuvered skillfully from song to song playing a barrage of fan favourites, however, the act who preceded the band was the touring company of 2 Girls 1 Cup and most of the audience abandoned the side stage in disgust, opting to wait by the main stage for six hours until The Foo Fighters performed, leaving under fifty people to hear Sector.

The band is now off until Wednesday when they arrive in Dawson Creek, B.C.

Monday, August 10, 2009

Monday morning laugh

A guy spots a sign outside a house that reads "Talking Dog for Sale." Intrigued, he walks in.

"So what have you done with your life?" he asks the dog.

"I’ve led a very full life," says the dog. "I lived in the Alps rescuing avalanche victims. Then I served my country in Iraq. And now I spend my days reading to the residents of a retirement home."

The guy is flabbergasted. He asks the dog’s owner, "Why on earth would you want to get rid of an incredible dog like that?"

The owner says, "Because he’s a liar! He never did any of that!"

Sunday, August 09, 2009

Hijacking Heaven- Chapter XXXII

The morning was breaking and a dim light was trying to punch holes in the early morning mist. Grimsby had returned from a small hike to the road side to check their approximate position and was happy to report the rental outpost was less than four miles from their current position. “We can be there within the hour.”

“We have to start moving then.” Buck said.

Sheppard woke the kids up and slowly persuaded them to their feet. “Come on Rabbit-Amber, it’s time to move out.” There was a tremor in Sheppard’s leg accompanied by an arthritic tightness. He brushed it off to the lack of sleep. No time to give in to a little pain now.

The five grabbed their packs, hoisting them to their shoulders. They were already becoming lighter and would have to be replenished as well with more non perishables. They kept under the cover of the trees as they moved, following an overgrown trail of moss and tall fescue, shooting like fireworks out of patches of wild violet. In the distance they could hear the whirring flutter of helicopters, now on the east side of the park searching for them. It gave urgency to their march.

From time to time Sheppard’s thoughts appeared cloudy and he felt himself wandering away from the others before being coaxed back to the trail by Buck, or Rabbit. Several times he almost fell, stumbling on a right leg that seemed to suffer temporary paralysis. He even caught himself concentrating on who the people were he was traveling with and where he was going with them- he was having trouble remembering. How much longer am I going to be able to keep my senses? How much longer before I become a liability? Before I...I can’t think about it. Must press on.

“We’re almost there,” Grimsby reported, picking up his pace. “This way!”

The rest of the troop followed close behind. Beyond a ridge of trees the trail opened on to a dirt road from the underbrush. To the left, on the opposite side of the road, a building of logged wood made from the massive limbs of redwoods, protruded out of the forest surrounded by ornamental boulders of bronze and gray rock. It was cuddled by a high, fenced-in armoury of trailers with boats, canoes, jet skis and a row of ATV’s. A couple of gas pumps stood like sentinels on the inside perimeter of the fence and a rustic sheet metal workshop played peek-a-boo behind a wall of camper units. In front of the outpost the stars and stripes hung in silence from a white flag pole in the midst of a rock garden surrounded by the gridded yellow of empty parking spaces. Everything seemed dull and sullen as if in mourning. Rabbit and Amber charged across the road in excitement ahead of the long steady strides of Malcolm Buck and the cautious steps of the Ranger. Sheppard was last to cross and staggered as he sat back on a boulder near the exit to northern road. So tired. Thank God we’re here.

Buck returned to his side and patted his friend on the shoulder. “You rest here Shep. I’ll get the supplies and Len can get the ATVs. We’ll be back before you know it. Sit tight.”

“The door’s looked.” Amber said. She now cupped her hands and peered through the window after she twisted the door knob one last time.

Buck picked up a rock from the nearby garden. “Luckily I have the key right here.” He gave her a wink and tossed the rock through a glass panel near the lock. He reached in and turned the dead bolt. The door swung open.

Grimsby looked horrified at the callous destruction. “You know you’re going to have to pay for that.”

“So bill me.” Buck said, as he and the kids entered the outpost leaving Grimsby outside. The interior of the outpost was like a museum- lifeless and motionless. It was equally dim and dull in the shadows of another sunless morning. The fishing gear and maps were the first items to accost them from the skeletons of black metal spindles. They were followed by racks of food items and outdoor clothing, camping and cooking utensils, fire logs, wet naps, medical aids, bug spray. Buck headed for the far back wall where the firearms and hunting equipment were displayed behind a glass counter filled with compasses, knives and boxes of ammunition. He set about collecting some protection while the kids filled their packs with everything from soda to candy bars and jaw breakers. Grimsby, who had finally joined the others, worked behind the check-out, searching the office for keys to the fenced-in compound and the ATVs. He found what he was looking for above a bait cooler, in an unlocked cabinet with a poster of July’s playmate of the month pinned to it.

Outside Sheppard lay back against the coolness of the boulder and gazed skyward at a sun trying to peek through wisps of dark cloud. It was there, but like his thoughts, just a glowing hazy ball behind a masked veil. There were no more chem-trails but the cloud cover had thickened to a dense and brooding mass like smoke from a far off fire. I guess they feel their work here is done.

“Bingo!” Grimsby hollered as he emerged from the office. “Don’t be long now. I’ll get the transportation.” The Ranger wiggled a fist full of keys at the kids.
Buck looked at Grimsby “Sheppard’s in no condition to drive. We’ll have to work something else out.”

“I can ride” Rabbit offered.

“Look kid”, Grimsby said. “You’re what- three, four years away from getting your licence? I’m not letting you get on an expensive machine like it’s one of your toys. This isn’t a video game and I don’t care how many people you bring back from the dead.”

Buck stared Grimsby down. “I say he rides. Take Amber on the back with you. I’ll take Sheppard.”

“This is a bad idea.”

“Why, didn’t you fill out the insurance Len?”

Grimsby grunted in disapproval and headed for the door.

Buck looked at Rabbit then back at the rifle he was holding. “I think he’s finally gotten tired of my witty banter.”

Rabbit smiled then felt the sickness return churning up through his insides. He dropped the comic book he’d been holding.
Amber sensed something was up. “What is it Rabbit?”

“We have to hurry.” Rabbit’s gaze turned to Sheppard who appeared to be sunbathing on a boulder outside. Even through the windows of the outpost Rabbit could see the blueness of the aura surrounding him was growing.

Grimsby unlocked the gate and the swung them back on their hinges with a clang. “Smart-ass, punk kid!” He paraded into the stable of machinery checking key numbers against the labelled all-terrain vehicles and rolling out three of the rentals to the pumps to gas up.

Sheppard’s thoughts drifted as he watched the cloud slide by. The fluttering of helicopters faded in and out of his hearing letting him drift, relieving him of his cares. That’s when the first convulsions hit him. The searing hot pain of someone grabbing internal organs and twisting and squeezing them into pulp coursed through his very being. Sheppard slipped from the boulder to the ground sputtering up a small vile river of blood and puss.

Rabbit cried out. “Mr. Buck! It’s Mr. Sheppard. He’s sick.”

Buck threw down the rifle and ammo and ran with the kids to his aid.
Sheppard sat on the ground with one leg stretched out in front of him, the other tucked in behind. His one arm held up his body, while the other clung to his rib cage as if trying to keep his inside from exploding. A sliver of spittle mixed with blood slowly descended to the ground like a spider on a web.

“Shep! You OK?” Buck said.

Sheppard looked up slowly and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Never better. Actually it wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be. Only felt like half of my guts were being ripped out.” He smiled weakly.

Rabbit and Amber looked on with grave concern.

Buck spoke. “Grimsby’s right. We have to risk the roads. You won’t last if we stay on the paths all the way. You’re in no condition and we don’t have enough fuel if we go due north. We have to go east to a main artery and then go north.”

“No Malcolm. The weapon. Must try to stop it.”

Buck looked at Rabbit as if hoping someone else would have an answer in what to do. He turned back to Sheppard who now sat as if in meditation with his chin resting on his chest. His breathing was becoming shallow. Malcolm crept closer almost pressing his lips to Sheppard's ear. “Are you going to let me in on what you’re thinking about the shipments Len spoke of and what you think this weapon might be, or are you still contemplating?”

Sheppard sat concentrating, listening to Buck’s words carefully before responding. “LHC...I think? That must be....the new weapon....uh....Grant spoke of.”

“Woah...LHC what the hell is that? Shep, I run a souvenir shop.”

Another wave of convulsions hit Sheppard. His knees swung up hard to his chest and he rolled on his side crying out in pain. Buck fought hard to get his pocket knife into Sheppard’s mouth before he bit his tongue in two. But again the convulsions subsided and his body relaxed.

It was becoming harder for Sheppard to compose his thoughts into sentences. “Large....uh....Had.......Coll.....”

“What?”

Sheppard look at Buck dumbfounded. He was quickly losing his ability to recognize and convey. He shook his head slowly. “I....I don’t know.”

“Shep?”

“Mr. Buck maybe I can help.” Rabbit said.

Buck rode a wave of emotion, confusion, bewilderment, anger, despair. “How can you help him?”

Rabbit knelt down beside Sheppard. He placed his hand on the side of Sheppard’s head, stroking his hair. Sheppard slowly looked up at the boy, sweat now cascading from his forehead. Rabbit began to speak for him as if he’d gone into a trance. “LHC Malcolm. A Large Hadron Collider is what it’s called. It’s a high energy particle accelerator. They built one in Bern Switzerland. It was meant for scientific research to study the origins of the universe. How the big bang happened. At first it was hailed as a triumph of technology and success. But there were others in the scientific community that warned of dangers.”

Sheppard repeated. “Danger.....”

Rabbit continued. “Mysteriously the project was shut down without much fanfare four months after it started. I never had access to the files Malcolm. They were highly classified and sensitive. But the whisperings were they created a few black holes during their experiments. One, they had trouble shutting down and it nearly destroyed the entire complex.”

Sheppard mumbled. “Blue....going blue....danger.”

“If they are building a similar facility here in Montana then they must believe they’ve found a way to contain the dark matter. Use it as a weapon against all enemies.”

Buck looked at Rabbit surprised, then back at Sheppard. “Come on- a black hole?”

Rabbit continued to stroke Sheppard’s hair and looked back up at Buck. His stare was vacant. “I’m speculating Malcolm. I don’t know for sure. But if they’ve developed the technology to mass produce these and deliver them in some sort of payload, then this is the end of the world we know. All this death and sickness is merely sleight of hand- a cheap magician’s trick to distract people from what’s really going on here. Get everyone to cry retaliation and retribution and that’s what they’ll get on a global scale.” Rabbit removed his hand from Sheppard’s head and fell backward panting as Amber knelt beside him. “Mr. Sheppard’s right”, Rabbit said, his eyes once again with a life of their own. “I don’t understand it, but I feel it, I can sense the darkness of it. The closer we get to it the more my insides vibrate with the dread. We have to go now. They are coming.”

Buck commanded. “Amber, go help Grimsby with the bikes. Rabbit and I’ll get Mr. Sheppard to his feet.”

Amber ran to the compound and found the Ranger sitting on one of the bikes just outside the fenced area, like he was waiting for a cool breeze and a kiss from the sun. He sat with his eyes closed and his head tilted backward, arms at his sides, much like Sheppard had been on the boulder.

“Mr. Grimsby, sir?

Grimsby opened one eye then the other. He brought his head forward and looked suddenly confused as he sat on his bike looking at the key. “My bike won’t start.”

“Maybe you should try putting the key in the ignition.”

Grimsby looked dumb-founded and continued to look down at his bike then at the key in his hand with his other arm still at his side. “Can you hear them?”

“Hear who?”

“The birds. They sing so sweeeeetly.”

“I don’t hear anything at all.-Mr. Buck! You better come here I think there’s something wrong!”

Buck and Rabbit gingerly lowered Sheppard back to the ground and ran to the fenced-in compound where Amber stood looking at the Ranger.

“What the hell does he think he’s doing?” Buck said. “There’s no time for this.”

“He’s hallucinating,” Rabbit said. “He’s sick now too.”

The Ranger heard Buck and looked up at him with a lost expression. All he heard come out of Buck’s mouth was gibberish. Grimsby turned to Rabbit who was also talking. Again the words were indistinguishable. It was as if they were suddenly talking in a foreign language- chirping away in this new mother tongue, some joke that Grimsby was not privy to the punch line. Still, on their mouths flapped, blathering on, laughing at him, and conspiring against him, ready to turn him over to the authorities to save themselves. Len Grimsby’s expression started to change from one of bewilderment to that of anger and loathing. He felt the rage rise inside him. Grimsby fuddled with his back pack. He withdrew the black case and opened it pulling the pistol free of its foam womb, a tranq dart already loaded in its chamber. He pointed it at Buck.

“Len put the gun down. Relax. It’s OK we’re your friends. –Amber. Move very slowly. I want you to go and stay with Mr. Sheppard until this is over.”

Amber backed away around the side of the outpost and ran to where Sheppard sat coughing up more blood.

Amber’s sudden departure only seemed to agitate Grimsby even more. The Ranger’s eyes widened with fear and hatred he began to shift the tranq gun quickly between Buck and Rabbit. He grunted a few times but made no attempt to communicate. He began to drool.

Buck started to creep forward.

“No Mr. Buck.” Rabbit said. “He’ll shot you for sure and we can’t ride with you doped up.”

Buck stopped his forward progress and continued to use a calming voice to talk Grimsby down. “Len, come on. Whatever it is that’s upsetting you, we can work it out. -Damn it it’s like he doesn’t understand a word I say Rabbit.”

Grimsby was becoming more flustered and held the pistol out with accuracy at Buck. His finger poised over the trigger.

Rabbit yelled. “Run!”

The Ranger squeezed and fired. The dart struck Buck in the leg.

“Jesus! I’m hit.” Buck felt his motor functions begin to fade rapidly. He dropped to one knee. He looked back up at Grimsby who had a sinister look on his face as he loaded another dart into the chamber. Buck didn’t have enough time to react and stood by helplessly pleading. “Len, think about what you’re doing. For God’s sake man!”

Buck dropped forward trying to hold himself up with his arm like a one arm push-up. With great effort he tried to inch away back toward the shelter of the outpost. He looked up at Grimsby only to watch his expression change to horror as his chest cavity blew out in front of him in an explosion of flesh and bone, sending the spatter of blood onto Rabbit's face. Twenty paces behind him stood Colonel Hayden Grant his smile almost evident through the cracked face mask of his hazmat suit.

Rabbit ran to Buck grabbing him by the shirt collar and trying to help the big man back away as he kicked his one leg out to help the boy.

“The outpost,” Buck gasped. “Help me get there. The rifle.”

Grant walked forward with deadly purpose, his weapon raised and ready for another shot.

“Amber, run and hide!” Rabbit yelled as he tried to drag Malcolm Buck with all his might to the doorway of the outpost.
Grant turned the corner he aimed at Amber and fired. Sheppard with every last ounce of strength pushed himself into her thrusting her out of the way with his body, into the line of fire. The blast caught him in the shoulder.

Sheppard felt a pain unlike anything he`d ever experienced before. Even the convulsions from the sickness were no match for this new agony. It was as if his arteries and veins had cauterized and were boiling all at the same time. His lungs felt on fire. His heart thumped wildly going into cardiac arrest. Everything was in slow motion. He could hear Amber screaming. See Malcolm struggle to maintain consciousness, hear Rabbit`s anguish, “Noooooo!”

Sheppard looked at his shoulder. His flesh split open, the burning smell of his own muscle, Is that bone I see? A look of despair and disappointment crossed his face of one not being able to complete his mission. A sense of a darkness all around him- closing in, yet, an inescapable blinding light followed behind it dousing everything in a brilliance he could not comprehend. A weak gasp escaped his lips and he fell backward hitting the ground a long exhalation of breath leaving his lungs. Only twenty-four hours after he had contemplated taking his own life, Graham Sheppard was dead.

Performance cut short by melee


Private Sector had to cut the night short in Stoney Plain Friday, after they invited fans to climb on stage to accompany the band by playing percussion instruments.

Several hundred people simultaneously rushed the stage creating a nightmare for security and several fights broke out.

The show was stopped for forty-five minutes and when order could not be restored the night was scrubbed with four songs remaining in the set.

Luckily no one was seriously injured and police are now investigating the incident as the band moves down the road for an afternoon show Sunday in Edmonton.

Saturday, August 08, 2009

Amazing yard sale finds

It's been a shitty summer so far, but the yard sale hunting has been spectacular. Take a look at what I was able to pick up just this morning.

Poop in a can

Cost: $1.50

How could I pass this up?




Big Lebowski Last Supper poster

Cost: $0.75

I tried to get them down to 50 cents but was told "Nobody fucks with the Jesus."




Bathtub full of human brains

Cost: $10.00

The dude who sold me this was a bit creepy, but hell, when am I ever going to have the chance to buy a bathtub full of human brains again?

Friday, August 07, 2009

Big surprise in small venue



Once again Private Sector's equipment ended up in another location due to truck troubles. This time the breakdown occurred in Stoney Plain the locale for Sector's Friday night show.

As a result, the band was forced to take over an Edson club and commandeer the equipment of a surprised cover band. Sector then set out to play two shows to accommodate the crowd in the more intimate setting.

"We're beginning to feel like we're cursed," the band lamented to the Edson Examiner after the show.

If they are, at least their geer will be waiting for them in Stoney Plain.

Thursday, August 06, 2009

Thursday laugh

It's almost the end of the week. One more day to go, but you're feeling a bit drained. Well, Ol' Strange is here for you. It's the least I can do.....actually the least I can do is to post nothing at all, but I'll go you one better and post a joke to try and brighten your dull Thursday.


Two hunters are out in the woods when one of them collapses. He’s not breathing and his eyes are glazed. The other guy whips out his cell phone and calls 911.

"I think my friend is dead!" he yells. "What can I do?"

The operator says, "Calm down. First, let’s make sure he’s dead."

There’s a silence, then a shot. Back on the phone, the guy says, "Okay, now what?"

Wednesday, August 05, 2009

Getting used to normal



Private Sector delivered another solid show Tuesday in Lloydminster at the city's annual Blueberry Festival. Once again there were no obsticles to overcome. No lost equipment, no power outages, no opening act debacle, even the rain held off and the out door gig went off without a hitch- something the band attests they could get used to.

Yet, there seemed to be a lack of sizzle Sector had displayed at previous performances in Saskatoon and North Battleford, as the band ran an orderly set, marching through songs from their twenty-five year history.

Drummer Bug Christopher mused after the show, "Perhaps we need the controversy to add the fuel to the furnace?"

If so, here's hoping for a little more adversity as the tour continues in Edson, Alberta on Thursday.

Monday, August 03, 2009

Sector rocks Saskatoon



With the controversy surrounding yet another Private Sector tour, the group seemed to draw strength from the recent events and delivered the show of a life time.

Even after twenty-five years since the band last graced these parts, Sector proved, that like a fine wine, they've gotten better with age.

From the energetic opening of "With in the Circle" until the end of the fourth encore with "Heart of Darkness", the band plowed through much of their catalogue trotting out some obscure songs like "Death of Me","Quiet Earth", and "Arms Out to Armageddon".

Sector move on the Lloydminster for a show on Tuesday.

Sunday, August 02, 2009

Hijacking Heaven- Chapter XXXI

It was near midnight when the five finally reached a cave on the far shore and settled in. It was a deep crevice carved out ages ago by glaciers and now provided adequate cover from searching eyes. Together they pulled the canoe into the hidden crevice with them. The wind had picked up and the rain had begun to descend in sheets again. Buck started a small fire near the back of the cave and Rabbit and Amber were quick to drop from exhaustion. It was agreed that Buck would take the first watch and Grimsby and Sheppard would take subsequent turns each two hours after, until light.

Sheppard relieved Buck after only forty-five minutes. “Get some rest Malcolm. I’ll take it from here. I can’t sleep anyway.”

“Len’s supposed to take the first watch.”

“Let him rest.”

“With all due respect, you look like shit my friend.”

“Oh...and how do you feel?”

“No symptoms from the yellow dust of the Back-ho if that’s what you mean?”

“Looks like you’re in five percent immunity bracket my friend.”

“My wife told me one day I’d win the lottery. I just thought she was talking about all those scratch tickets I used to buy.”

“Wish I could say the same. I’ve been hemorrhaging out of my ears and pissing blood. Now I’m losing my ability to remember simple motor functions like paddling. And it’s going to get worse. You’ve seen the bodies Malcolm. I can’t survive this. You have to get the kids out if my time comes. Promise me that.”

“I’ll get it done Shep don’t worry.”

The two sat in silence with just the steady sizzle of the rain falling on the rocks outside the cave mouth before Buck spoke again. “Why is this happening?”

“Why do things like this always happen? So we can justify going to war. This time I guess it’s with a billion Chinese. They’ve been poking that bee’s nest with a stick for some time.”

“I thought we were working with the Chinese? Isn’t it the North Koreans and Al-Qaida who have their foot up our ass?”

“It’s not about friends and enemies. When you have twenty percent of the world’s population you’re a threat either way. Remember that earth quake in Sichuan Province just before the Beijing Olympics?”

“Yeah.”

“That was man made. A message, or warning generated by us. That eartquake killed seventy thousand people and left over four billion homeless.”

“But how?”

“You ever hear of H.A.A.R.P.?”

“No.”

“There’s a facility in Alaska that has the ability to modify weather patterns among other things. It was designed on the principles of a man called Nicolai Tesla. Tesla believed with frequency you could split the earth in two, same as an opera singer would shatter a glass. Oil companies are using some of his resonate imaging theories to find oil and natural gas, but H.A.A.R.P. is the real tool. They can make hurricanes more destructive, tornadoes more devastating, earthquakes more powerful, disrupt communications, create nuclear type explosions without radiation, even mind control with frequency.”

“So this is the weapon Grant spoke of?”

“I don’t think so. H.A.A.R.P.’s been around for years. Grant knows I’ve seen some of the classified documents surrounding the project. Although it will be a useful tool for them to corral people into submission, there has to be something else. Something more we don’t know about yet. But whatever it is, it’s meant to dispose of what they label as the feeders and enslave others considered lower on the evolutionary scale.

“But why us? Why you’re own people?”

“Make no mistake Malcolm this isn’t about race, color, nations even. This has always been about hierarchy; the selected few in control of the masses. There are concentration camps in our own back yard. Set up by FEMA under the guise of assisting during a crisis like Katrina. You can’t tell me they’re for disaster relief, or to temporarily house victims of catastrophes man made, or otherwise. But I’ve seen them Malcolm. They’re equipped with giant furnaces, barbed wire fences, guard towers, railways for mass transport. Why would you need all that if you’re trying to help people? I tell you it’s Nazi Germany all over again. Except it’s not just the Jews this time. It’s everyone.

“My God.”

“Let’s hope there is one.”

Len Grimsby, still with his towel around his shoulders, joined the two and plopped himself down beside them. He picked up an errand stick and began to scratch in the sand. “It’s bad enough I’m having nightmares, I have to wake up to you two discussing the end of the world.”

“Just as we know it Len.”

“Yeah, well I’d rather be kept up by caffeine than talk of concentration camps, world enslavement and weapons of mass destruction. There’s been enough strange shit going on around here than to add fuel to that fire.”

“So where do we go from here?” Buck said.

Len spoke up. “The road shouldn’t be too far from here. There are mile markers and I’ll be able to get a handle on our position. I’m hopping we’re not too far from the outpost I spoke of near Packer’s Roost. There are several around the park that rent boats, ATVs, hiking gear...and we can get weapons and ammunition. With a little luck we can head up little-used trails to Logan’s Pass and then east out of the park. From there, north to the border I guess.”

Sheppard protested. “No Len. The roads will be watched. We can’t go that way. It’s madness. We have to head north through the park.”

“If my recollection is right, we won’t be able to head much further north on the trails beyond Logan’s Pass.”

“Why? It’s not like this is the middle of winter.”

“The northern quadrant of the park has been off limits for a few years now. They’ve been bringing shipments in. At first I thought it was the EPA doing environmental damage control, but it’s been going on for some time now.”

Malcolm spoke up. “Did Exxon find a way to dump a load into the wilderness?”

“The EPA wouldn’t be involved with a matter of that size for so long. There’s something not right here,” Sheppard added.

Grimsby continued. “I just know what I’ve been told and what I’ve seen; north of Logan’s Pass is off limits to everyone; hikers, campers, Rangers, everyone. If you want to keep from being seen, I’ll take my chances on paths near the road and out of the park. There’s too much security up that way to slip through unrecognized.”

Sheppard sat forward. Alarms were going off in his head. “Can you describe the shipments you’ve seen?”

“Every day for the past few years, a parade of transport trucks coming in and up past Apgar station. Then a month ago they stopped. Really, I haven’t thought much about it since. What does it have to do with the deep shit we find ourselves in?”

Sheppard pressed. “Do you remember anything unusual about any of the trucks?”

“I don’t know. They were transport trucks escorted by police...I ...wait.....There were a couple toward the end; wide loaders, covered with huge brown tarps- looked like there were huge cylindrical discs, or concrete tunnel segments. They were pretty big. One actually stopped by the station- blew out a tire. I manage to get a peek under the tarp- huge metal tines, webbed out from the center with a mass of cables. I just assumed maybe they were building some sort of power generating station. You can never have too much on the grid.”

Sheppard sat silently contemplating. He looked very concerned as he propped his upper lip up with his fist.

Buck spoke. “What is it Shep?”

“I have my suspicions but I hope for all our sake, I’m wrong. Otherwise we have to try and disrupt what’s going on.”

“Whoa! Wait just a God damn minute here! There’s no way I’m going to try and sabotage a government project.”

“This is the same government that has been killing its own people Len.”

“Malcolm’s right. But our first concern is to get the kids to safety. We’ll follow the road until we get to Logan’s Pass, then I’ll go in and do what I can.”

“That’s suicide Shep.”

“Then I’m just the man for the job, aren’t I Malcolm?” He felt a wetness at the base of his ear lobe.

Grimsby looked at Sheppard puzzled. “Your ear is bleeding again....I think...but it’s yellow...like puss.”

Saturday, August 01, 2009

Thank you Pottahawk

So we are at an end for another year. Hope you enjoyed the Pottahawk Posts for 2009.
I look forward to cranking up the gossip for Pottahawk 2010 when it arrives.

But, check in periodically and you might still see more from this year. Plus you could win fabulous prizes.

1 of 100 Big foam shockers



1 of 10 fabulous stomach Tattoos



Grand Prize: An all expenses paid wedding of you dreams at Pottahawk 2010



You must be 18 years of age to enter. Contest not open to family and friends of Strangedaze, frequent site visitors, dudes who masturbate to pictures of karaoke singing cats, blog surfers who mistakenly hit this page, in fact anyone who knows what Pottahawk is or has never heard of Pottahawk

Mauler vies for opening act slot



Mexican sensation, midget wrestler, The Masked Mauler has thrown his hat into the ring, (literally), hoping to be the next opening act on Private Sector's "Disputin' Rasputin Tour", after Frederick the Karaoke Cat was pulled off the tour when it was learned he had ties to terrorist organizations.

The Mauler believes he'd bring a Jim Rose Circus Sideshow element to the show and would complement Sector's performance.

The band could not be reached for comment.

Artist: The Masked Mauler

Where he's from: Tijuana, Mexico

Claim to fame: Once pile-drived Brutus the Barber Beefcake.