I had passed by here numerous times on the way to the shooting range, vowing each time that one day I would stop and run up that steep trail and back down again. Today was that day. You head up a paved fire road until you see the first big dirt hill. This is a steep path, at times you can hold your arm out and touch the hill but there are a few segments where it evens out and you can catch your breath. It is not as difficult as the face of Tongva Peak, for instance, but it is still a challenge. The scenery of the 210 Freeway below, the Crescenta Valley, and the San Gabriels about 2 miles in front of you is good, but the other side is a little bit more interesting as you can see the DTLA Skyline. Here, the best views are at the top. There are a few canyons with old growth oaks and some nice, lush, green sycamores totally worthy of a hug if you are a filthy hippie and listening to the Jerry Garcia Band on your I-Pod. I did not see very many people hiking at the time I went, but the area is heavily used by other recreation enthusiasts. You can bring your dogs here and let them run around off the leash and nobody will give a shit. Your children can safely run amok here too. The usual cast of characters, mostly ravens and hawks, was flying overhead. The run down was noteworthy in that there are plenty of good places to land and not a lot of loose dirt and rock. You can get going pretty fast and still be safe. On a final note, I picked a tick off my forearm. It did not bite me, but I am sure it was planning on it. Take the necessary precautions.
Wednesday, March 12, 2014
The Poetic Silence of Justice Clarence Thomas
I read an article in the New Yorker this morning that made my Mexican blood boil. It was another attack upon Clarence Thomas. As an individual who has never had any respect for authority or the law, I have never much cared for the Supreme Court. I always figured it was a facade created by the Harvard Graduates in charge of the CIA to give the fools their tartar sauce. But Clarence Thomas can never do anything right, and every single word that he ever utters will be held beneath contempt by all of the fake ass fuckers writing in the New Yorker. Because what is right for Blacks is always thought up by white elites with a smattering of elite black input. If you don't tow their line, you had better shut the fuck up. I understand what he is doing by staring at the ceiling. He understands his place more than any other black professional in the country. I do not agree with his interpretation of the law, but feel he is far less of a Tom than Obama. Thomas certainly does not possess a great legal mind like Justice Marshall unarguably possessed, and I personally believe that it nothing less than an abomination that he sits in that fucking courthouse but I believe that he should be treated with slightly more respect than a leper.
Colombian Food Fabricated Entirely From Cocaine HCL
My wife and I split the Marulanda Platter which contained fried bananas, a large piece of pan-fried round steak, a large, well-seasoned chorizo, beans, rice, arepa, chicharron and avocado. It was made entirely out of cocaine served on a plate made out of super hardened cocaine. Even the green onion salsa was fabricated from pure cocaine. How they do it, I do not know. My daughter got the plato Raul Ruiz. It was a steak sautéed in cocaine topped with a fried egg. Her boyfriend got the stewed beef that looked a bit like the FARC version of rope vieja. I think it may have been called the plato Trabajador. He also liked the empanadas which were also made out of 100% grade "A" cocaine. We appreciated the Romancing the Stone movie posters and the Che portraits.
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