http://www.iht.com/articles/2007/05/27/news/moscow.php
Gay Rights Campaigners
No surprise, they got beat up
No rule of law.
Monday, July 9, 2007
Tennis Anyone?
I wasn't there. Sometimes one can't know if I was there or not, sometimes I don't tell, sometimes you can't tell if the story is even true, but I believe, on good authority, that this is true, but I wasn't there.
Schultz and Cageman lived about one mile apart.
Their neighborhood had the distinction of being hilly.
Luckily, in Minnesota hills are not common.
Winter being winter, and snow/ice slippery, hills are definitely not recommended.
This particular year had seen a couple of large snowfalls before Christmas. The hills were covered with three feet of snow, and drifts were as high as 10 feet. The lights under the eaves of many houses were buried, the snow luminous and flashing green and red!
Winter in Minnesota is notoriously bad, dangerous, cold, and unforgiving. Strange things can happen when the weather gets as cold as it does, especially when it has been snowing.
Certain streets don’t get plowed often. Others get enough traffic to push the fresh snow down into hard packed ice.
That dark, dirty and hard ice seems to go directly from solid to vapor, since the actual temperature stays below zero Fahrenheit day and night, yet the ice disappears over a few days.
Schultz and Cageman were going to Walleye’s on some important mission. Probably to smoke a lot of pot, then pick up Walleye, since he had wrecked his Dodge Dart several weeks earlier.
Schultz pulls up and honks out the Winto-green gang rhythm, Cageman rounds the corner from his basement cave. A muted "Stairway to Heaven" was blasting on the AM and Schultz’ second-Joint-in-a-mile was being enflamed. As Cageman opens the door, he's hit simultaneously with the odor of pot and the sound from the music...he slams the door as he sits, and takes a hit and away they went.
Rounding the hill, the road covered with a thick sheet of very slick ice, Schultz attempted to make the left turn down a fairly steep slope.
The car began to skid off the side of the road, on the side that had been cut away, and the ice, (an "unwelcome mat"), blended gracefully onto the top of the snow drift...just down the hill was a private home’s tennis court, thoroughly covered in thick snow.
Schultz had one hand on the joint and the other on the wheel, looked toward Cageman, as they both screamed "HOLY SHIT" in perfect unison and rather highly elevated pitch.
Fingers never leaving the J, Schultz and Cageman and the car hurtle straight towards the tennis court’s fence. The car hits…WHAM, then the fence moaned GRRRRRRR as it slowly bent delivering the car to the center of the tennis court.
The car, half buried in snow, crunched to a stop. Their screaming stopped soon after that...with the car stalled.
A new grinding sound began as the fence, relieved of the car, shifted slowly to vertical.
Now, inside the court, the car remained, surrounded by car-roof-deep snow, and no visible means on how it could have gotten there... no tracks, no footprints, no nuttin' but the top of the car could be seen from the street above!
The silence was deafening! But not for long…
“Jesus Schultz, you could’a killed me!”
“Eff-off-A-Hole, the joint’s ash didn’t even fall!”
And, as Schultz held up the joint, Cageman saw that it was true.
They sat back, finished the joint, and appreciated the obvious "sign".
It being a weekday, the owners of the tennis court weren’t at home, so, the very lucky friends walked back to Cageman’s house. It was exceedingly quiet, as the snow dampened every noise. Their breath formed Godzilla-like vapor trails, and frost deposits defined Cageman's mouth through the scarf that covered it. Gloved hands dug deep into parka pockets belied the cold...the snow under their boots sang and squeaked as they trudged along the road.
First, lots of snow shovels. Next, dismantle fence. Now attach a cable to the car from the tow truck on the hill and drag the literally unblemished car up…
Insurance took care of everything; these guys led a charmed life.
Schultz and Cageman lived about one mile apart.
Their neighborhood had the distinction of being hilly.
Luckily, in Minnesota hills are not common.
Winter being winter, and snow/ice slippery, hills are definitely not recommended.
This particular year had seen a couple of large snowfalls before Christmas. The hills were covered with three feet of snow, and drifts were as high as 10 feet. The lights under the eaves of many houses were buried, the snow luminous and flashing green and red!
Winter in Minnesota is notoriously bad, dangerous, cold, and unforgiving. Strange things can happen when the weather gets as cold as it does, especially when it has been snowing.
Certain streets don’t get plowed often. Others get enough traffic to push the fresh snow down into hard packed ice.
That dark, dirty and hard ice seems to go directly from solid to vapor, since the actual temperature stays below zero Fahrenheit day and night, yet the ice disappears over a few days.
Schultz and Cageman were going to Walleye’s on some important mission. Probably to smoke a lot of pot, then pick up Walleye, since he had wrecked his Dodge Dart several weeks earlier.
Schultz pulls up and honks out the Winto-green gang rhythm, Cageman rounds the corner from his basement cave. A muted "Stairway to Heaven" was blasting on the AM and Schultz’ second-Joint-in-a-mile was being enflamed. As Cageman opens the door, he's hit simultaneously with the odor of pot and the sound from the music...he slams the door as he sits, and takes a hit and away they went.
Rounding the hill, the road covered with a thick sheet of very slick ice, Schultz attempted to make the left turn down a fairly steep slope.
The car began to skid off the side of the road, on the side that had been cut away, and the ice, (an "unwelcome mat"), blended gracefully onto the top of the snow drift...just down the hill was a private home’s tennis court, thoroughly covered in thick snow.
Schultz had one hand on the joint and the other on the wheel, looked toward Cageman, as they both screamed "HOLY SHIT" in perfect unison and rather highly elevated pitch.
Fingers never leaving the J, Schultz and Cageman and the car hurtle straight towards the tennis court’s fence. The car hits…WHAM, then the fence moaned GRRRRRRR as it slowly bent delivering the car to the center of the tennis court.
The car, half buried in snow, crunched to a stop. Their screaming stopped soon after that...with the car stalled.
A new grinding sound began as the fence, relieved of the car, shifted slowly to vertical.
Now, inside the court, the car remained, surrounded by car-roof-deep snow, and no visible means on how it could have gotten there... no tracks, no footprints, no nuttin' but the top of the car could be seen from the street above!
The silence was deafening! But not for long…
“Jesus Schultz, you could’a killed me!”
“Eff-off-A-Hole, the joint’s ash didn’t even fall!”
And, as Schultz held up the joint, Cageman saw that it was true.
They sat back, finished the joint, and appreciated the obvious "sign".
It being a weekday, the owners of the tennis court weren’t at home, so, the very lucky friends walked back to Cageman’s house. It was exceedingly quiet, as the snow dampened every noise. Their breath formed Godzilla-like vapor trails, and frost deposits defined Cageman's mouth through the scarf that covered it. Gloved hands dug deep into parka pockets belied the cold...the snow under their boots sang and squeaked as they trudged along the road.
First, lots of snow shovels. Next, dismantle fence. Now attach a cable to the car from the tow truck on the hill and drag the literally unblemished car up…
Insurance took care of everything; these guys led a charmed life.
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