So that's why my wife keeps wanting me to run for POTUS! I was wondering what the fuck that was about.
Nextdoor
- Thread starter deersniper
- Start date
So that's why my wife keeps wanting me to run for POTUS! I was wondering what the fuck that was about.
I don't have the heart to tell my cat lady neighbors that their little Fluffy isn't "missing", it's just been transformed into yote poo. One of life's little pleasures.
I'm pretty sure my neighbors would all like
"yo... coyote in field about 400 yards, someone whack that fucker"
"yo... coyote in field about 400 yards, someone whack that fucker"
Yep, she just moved the crosshair onto herself. We ended up moving the mini motocross track to have the uphill straight along her property line. Had 12 bikes at a time racing that track. She was soooooo pissed
My first introduction to the Yukon was through this. Beautiful country but too damned cold for this southern boy.
The Cremation of Sam McGee
BY ROBERT W. SERVICE
There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.
Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows.
Why he left his home in the South to roam 'round the Pole, God only knows.
He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell;
Though he'd often say in his homely way that "he'd sooner live in hell."
On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way over the Dawson trail.
Talk of your cold! through the parka's fold it stabbed like a driven nail.
If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes froze till sometimes we couldn't see;
It wasn't much fun, but the only one to whimper was Sam McGee.
And that very night, as we lay packed tight in our robes beneath the snow,
And the dogs were fed, and the stars o'erhead were dancing heel and toe,
He turned to me, and "Cap," says he, "I'll cash in this trip, I guess;
And if I do, I'm asking that you won't refuse my last request."
Well, he seemed so low that I couldn't say no; then he says with a sort of moan:
"It's the cursèd cold, and it's got right hold till I'm chilled clean through to the bone.
Yet 'tain't being dead—it's my awful dread of the icy grave that pains;
So I want you to swear that, foul or fair, you'll cremate my last remains."
A pal's last need is a thing to heed, so I swore I would not fail;
And we started on at the streak of dawn; but God! he looked ghastly pale.
He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day of his home in Tennessee;
And before nightfall a corpse was all that was left of Sam McGee.
There wasn't a breath in that land of death, and I hurried, horror-driven,
With a corpse half hid that I couldn't get rid, because of a promise given;
It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say: "You may tax your brawn and brains,
But you promised true, and it's up to you to cremate those last remains."
Now a promise made is a debt unpaid, and the trail has its own stern code.
In the days to come, though my lips were dumb, in my heart how I cursed that load.
In the long, long night, by the lone firelight, while the huskies, round in a ring,
Howled out their woes to the homeless snows— O God! how I loathed the thing.
And every day that quiet clay seemed to heavy and heavier grow;
And on I went, though the dogs were spent and the grub was getting low;
The trail was bad, and I felt half mad, but I swore I would not give in;
And I'd often sing to the hateful thing, and it hearkened with a grin.
Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge, and a derelict there lay;
It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice it was called the "Alice May."
And I looked at it, and I thought a bit, and I looked at my frozen chum;
Then "Here," said I, with a sudden cry, "is my cre-ma-tor-eum."
Some planks I tore from the cabin floor, and I lit the boiler fire;
Some coal I found that was lying around, and I heaped the fuel higher;
The flames just soared, and the furnace roared—such a blaze you seldom see;
And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal, and I stuffed in Sam McGee.
Then I made a hike, for I didn't like to hear him sizzle so;
And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled, and the wind began to blow.
It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks, and I don't know why;
And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak went streaking down the sky.
I do not know how long in the snow I wrestled with grisly fear;
But the stars came out and they danced about ere again I ventured near;
I was sick with dread, but I bravely said: "I'll just take a peep inside.
I guess he's cooked, and it's time I looked"; ... then the door I opened wide.
And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar;
And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and he said: "Please close that door.
It's fine in here, but I greatly fear you'll let in the cold and storm—
Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it's the first time I've been warm."
There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.
n/a
Found out about Nextdoor a couple of years ago when I moved to AZ.
You guys nailed it to a T, Nextdoor can be entertaining, and generally not in a good way.
Haven't been on in a while. I only really used it to see if any fucking hippies were bitching about my airgun shooting from my backyard overlooking a desert wash, where I had steel targets from ~120 to ~273 yards. Surprisingly, no one complained.
I miss that backyard airgun range. Not Nextdoor though.
You guys nailed it to a T, Nextdoor can be entertaining, and generally not in a good way.
Haven't been on in a while. I only really used it to see if any fucking hippies were bitching about my airgun shooting from my backyard overlooking a desert wash, where I had steel targets from ~120 to ~273 yards. Surprisingly, no one complained.
I miss that backyard airgun range. Not Nextdoor though.
It’s a Sam McGee kind of day out there today. -43f up at the lodge, must be -50 or colder down on the river.
Man, that hurts all the way from Virginia. I used to love the cold but as Ive gotten older the old frame cant take it. Below 70% F and Im looking for a wool sweater. 100%'s F, now thats getting nice and comfortable. Id love to visit in the summer though. Always fantasized about driving up to Prudhoe and swimming in the Beaufort Sea.
I CAN appreciate the solitude. Used to own a ranch out in SW Texas and my nearest neighbor was about 3 miles. Peace and Quiet and no idiots.
Keep that stove stoked.
So having internet so I can work in a remote place is destroying it?ok boomer
Boomer? Hardly. Gen X. It’s sad that someone has to break this down for you, but fuck it, here it goes....
“Progress” increasingly encroaches on the very few wild places we have left. Along with it, comes the people, and the bullshit. I deal with this quit a bit....people unass the metro areas, then move to the rural areas and bitch nonstop that they dont have the same services they had in the city. They bring their bullshit with them. And when the service gets better, more and more of them come. And eventually, the reason they moved to the area is lost.
All that being said, i will admit that my plans for retirement put me in the same boat as you. Although i am going to try to leave as much of society behind me as possible. It bothers me that these places are disappearing.
I will stop now as you have your own idea of what I said, but it isn't want I said.
Carry on
i’m sure you are a helluva nice guy. My point is, that worldwide internet it just one more step towards the solitude we seek being lost. I am a bit brash at times. I see a guy like you, who craves what many of us want. Just trying to point out that internet and modern conveniences anywhere-anytime....it’s not good.
Dont believe me? Unplug for a week and see how much more flavor there is to life.
Dont believe me? Unplug for a week and see how much more flavor there is to life.
I'm retiring early and don't want none of that internet or phone bullshit. If someone wants to talk to me they can mail a fucking letter or airdrop their happy as in cause there's not gonna be an easement either. I'm gonna fish, hunt, maybe raise some dogs or some shit, maybe some nintendo or something I can charge from a stream or solar, but that's it man. That's the life.
Nextdoor app is an absolute travesty to observe. I moved and figured WTH I'll sign up to see what's in my area. Wow. It's little bickering and underhanded threats because of the extreme nanny filter on the speech. Its passive aggressive war on there.
Here's a little tip to make friends on Nextdoor. Post this pic to no one in particular:
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