Monday, August 01, 2005

Something appeared different at Old "Nofre yesterday.
Here it is Sunday, no line, no traffic jam at Haw'n
Gardens, and only a handful of timid bocci-ballers,
you know, the die hard regulars. I'll tell you one thing,
in the day at Malibu, they'd of kicked any, and all, shiny
aluminum ball toten'guy's ass of the beach. What doesn't set
too good is they all walk around with their obligatory
cocktail Surf Club trendy mug. So here's the poop, it seems
the SOSC BOD has been called on the carpet, and read the riot
act. A comprehensive survey was taken randomly in the waiting
line upstairs. The biggest complaints were the members were
condescending against, to many cliques, dogs and kids. Cheeze,
can you imagine Malibu in early years, when the boys hit the
beach, and some guys showed at "The Pit" wanting to know if
anyone wanted to play booci or, get this, cherry-pit spitting
contest. Christ, Malibu guys are "broad jumping", "breast-stroking",
"shot-putting", and somebody wants to lug shiny balls around
the beach. I don't think so!

Written by Armando Sanchez de Morro.
BRUCE SAVAGE SAND ASSOCIATES

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posted by Huevos Rancheros @ 6:44 AM   2 Comments

2 Comments:

At 8:18 PM , Anonymous Anonymous said...

On your last day in the States at staging battalion at Camp Pendleton you have a little lesson and it's called the rabbit lesson, where the staff NCO comes out and he has a rabbit and he's talking to you about escape and evasion and survival in the jungle. He has this rabbit and then in a couple of seconds after just about everyone falls in love with it, not falls in love with it, but, you know, they're humane there, he cracks it in the neck, skins it, disembowels it, and then he throw the guts out into the audience.

 
At 6:02 AM , Anonymous Anonymous said...

FORTUNATE SON


Some folks are born made to wave the flag,
ooh, they're red, white and blue.
And when the band plays "Hail To The Chief",
oh, they point the cannon at you, Lord,

It ain't me, it ain't me,
I ain't no senator's son,
It ain't me, it ain't me,
I ain't no fortunate one, no,


Yeh, some folks inherit star spangled eyes,
ooh, they send you down to war, Lord,
And when you ask them, how much should we give,
oh, they only answer, more, more, more, yoh,


- John C, Fogerty

 

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