Tuesday, August 21, 2012
It is that time again. Time for them carps in CO.
Once the urban Platte gets in your blood, it is part of you forever... Generally in the form of some blood borne virus. But I ain't scared. No, sir. It is time for the baptism of chemical and slime, and green sludge that leaks from large concrete pipes. Scrub that good, mister fisherman. Scrub hard.
See you soon on on the banks of the SP, rocking the MG/JPL/AL manwich. This shit is about to get real. Again. Even realer, this time. If that is possible. C'mon, Ricecakes; let freedom ring!
So real, it hurts.