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Where tall tales, real and imagined, absurd and compelling, are served with a smile
It is common for people to question the point in first desiring to do so and then accomplishing such a feat. To them I say that if life loses its mountains, it loses its pulse. Whatever the mountain in your existence may be, run up it like every step can take you backwards in time.
Thanks to my buddy Ernie for re-introducing me to this video.
Everyday would be a day of discovery had a different path been taken…
Starting Jangle: about $25,000 (but it’s really not about the money)
Jangle high: $70K +
Demand: low as of this writing; however…the price of gas will play a role. When suddenly you find yourself paying in excess of $200 to gas up your swagger wagon, you’re going to make a change. And forget public transportation (unless you’re a square or you live in Manhattan). The future is in personal blimp-craft. I’ve always said that most major metro highway systems have long since been rendered inadequate because they never thought to go up in construction. Well it doesn’t get much more “up” than floating to work in an oblong gas bag. Parking is also no longer a problem. You just throw a rope out the window with a couple of dumbbells tied to the end of it and shimmy on down to your destination. Don’t ask me how you get back in. This is the future we’re talking about, after all.
En español: piloto de dirigible pequeño
The Basics: You fly the blimp and do your best not to drift out to sea or into forests where it is really hard to land your blimp. If you’re an enterprising sort, you rent out your ample blimp-flank to advertisers and silly people that want you to fly in front of them and their spouses displaying a personal message like, Johnny, I’m Pregnant With Another Man’s Triplets. Easy there, Johnny. The blimp is just the messenger.
The Future: That has already been touched upon above though it is almost a certainty that one day blimps will come with horns and sliding doors on both sides that open at the touch of a button. Pile in, little blimpers! No sharp objects, please.
Upside: Naturally, you’re going to have the best seats at any event (except those that occur indoors). You also eliminate the need for air mattresses during the full-house holidays. The in-laws can sleep on top of the blimp (with tethers, of course).
Downside: People are sometimes said to take on the physical characteristics of their cars (or is that their dogs?). In a car-less world, it stands to reason that the blimp becomes the physical paradigm. Too many of us already look like blimps.
Offshoots: airborne Mardi Gras bead-tosser; airborne fashion critic – Hey! Nice pants, Chachi! Yeah? Whattaya gonna do about it? I’m in a freakin’ blimp! Burn.
In the wake of explosive accusations leveled at one of the most galvanizing pitchmen in the biz (see earlier post below), I was inspired to post a spot from one of my favorite campaigns: Vitamin Water featuring Steve Nash.
Taken at face value, individual headlines tell a singular story. Connecting the obvious dots amongst multiple headlines often tells a far more intriguing tale…
To me, this is all related (naturally)
Breaking: A former assistant to notorious ShamWow pitchman Vince Shlomi has sued the slinger of the velvety rag-mop citing “bizarre and inappropriate” behavior. The charges filed by the Oklahoma woman contend that circumstances reached the tipping point at ShamWow StudiWows when the pitchman challenged her to a fist fight. At stake: the claimant’s four-foot tall therapy kangaroo, Sigmund. According to insiders, Shlomi had plans for a ShamWow-esque full body suit, made from the supple roo-pelt of Sigmund, which he would then don at his monthly Hollywood Hills freak-fests. The insightful marsupial is quoted as saying, “I hop therefore I am,” before climbing into a children’s party bounce house and sending it airborne with his aggressive style. When asked by bruised and battered children why he would do such a thing, Sigmund the therapy kangaroo in typical fashion replied, “Why do you think such a thing would be possible for me to do in the first place?” confusing all in attendance. One onlooker was so perplexed by the profundity of the statement that he proceeded to remove all of his clothes before taking off at a run, heading south on the 405 freeway in West LA. In the spirit of Forrest Gump, the nude roo-runner kept those crazy legs a-pumping, ultimately finding himself on a highway in Colorado where he was tragically killed by huge boulders falling onto the road from above. Those huge boulders would later be moved and repurposed – one for use in a softball game in Kentucky where one player was overheard declaring, “We’re gonna need a bigger bat.”
In related news, a local man entered an upscale massage parlor claiming to be a massage parlor inspector, of all things. Flashing his “credentials” (an expired Disneyland season pass with his photo on it), he demanded a thorough rubdown, blackmailing a parlor attendant under threat of a failed inspection. The dubious masseuse, already put off by the “inspector’s” frenetic energy and whiny voice, fled the room and called police when the would-be con artist insisted that he be rubbed down with this:
Evian’s “Live Young” campaign is something of a hit in the world of viral video. The campaign features inhumanly talented babies (er, cgi-enhanced babies) dancing, rollerskating, moonwalking, swimming… Well, maybe not swimming.
This one takes a moment to develop, but the payoff is worth it.
Personally, I drink tap water…just because. But the notion of living young appeals to all. And the fact remains, drinking copious amounts of tap water has done nothing to stem my personal march of time. Nothing.
Brad Ludden is a literal superstar in the world of professional whitewater kayaking. He began his affair with fast-moving water as a young boy, ultimately ascending to the pinnacle of the sport. This did not come easily. Kayaking can have an unforgiving learning curve and Ludden’s passage through those trials was not smooth sailing. Admittedly, encounters with confidence-shaking terror proved to be nearly impassable obstacles for Brad, at one point leading him to quit the sport for an entire year. I get this. I have not been back in my kayak since almost cashing in on The Big Thompson River almost two years ago. Fortunately I walked away with only a dislocated elbow, an absolutely pulped lower body and back, hypothermia, and a determination to never stuff myself into a tube of hard plastic on a violent river again (at least, that is how I feel now…). Brad Ludden, however, did find his way back into the current. Flash forward a number of years and Ludden is a professional that travels the world, seeing places that most of us could not even imagine, and tackling rapids that only a handful of kayakers would even dare. His accomplishments are legion though his greatest feat, in his eyes, is his establishment of First Descents, a non-profit kayaking camp for young adults with cancer. Kayaking is unlike any other sport in the world. It is at the same time intimidating, exhilarating, challenging, and inspiring. But perhaps above all else, it is empowering. Through First Descents, Brad Ludden brings that empowerment to ordinary people confronted with extraordinary circumstances and within the boundaries of moving water, opens the horizons of a moving soul. Brad Ludden, you are awesome.
Please take a moment to watch the story of Brad and First Descents.
Excerpt from The Vanishing Point, an original work by Jeff Moore
THERE IS AN EARNESTNESS about a plane taking flight. It is as if the entire collection of metal and wire and moving parts knows that it is defying more than gravity. That it is somehow a fraud, always on guard against the ultimate exposure. When I am actually awake and observing the initial ascent of an airliner, I often find myself anxiously rooting for it to achieve a zenith that will allow it to stop holding its breath and cruise closer to normal. I imagine that as it gains altitude, it looks back over its shoulder and realizes how commitment defines it and desperation drives it to not fail its flock, the passengers. Or that it, too, is terrified at the thought of dropping out of the sky. A self-contradicting aviophobist.
Thoughts like these – coupled with the dreams – make it fair to presume that I don’t like to fly. That is not the case, however. I don’t mind flying at all. The process is a system, no more, no less. Millions of things in a day to day existence are founded upon the integrity of systems. Sure, the system may fail. But agonizing over that statistically minute possibility wasn’t going to help keep the plane aloft.
The reality was that I love to drive. Particularly alone. I’ve gone on trips into remote areas of the country and south of the border where it truly feels as if the map reached a point in the rearview mirror and stayed behind while I carried on. That kind of road-bound unknown is very liberating. I see things and people that ninety-nine point nine percent of the earth’s population never will if only because there really is no reason to. For me, that makes those sights special – the fact that they only are what they are, nothing more. There will be times when I’ll find myself rolling down the macadam without seeing another car or other sign of life for hours. What freedom. Just me and the smooth hum of rubber on asphalt while a veritable time warp is traversed. Be it desert, mountain, forest… At times like those there are no voices for miles. But the terrain itself is speaking to me like Shakespeare. Read more of this post
We’re coming into the week’s homestretch. Sometimes that is when we most need a boost. Take a look at this video short for Corona. I don’t surf, but this had me dreaming of destinations I covet and the stories that would see me there.