God, I love these stories. When an arrogant ass goes on and on about something and then a hidden expert quietly demolishes them in front of everyone, it’s a magical thing.
One of my favorite memories was back in Colorado. I was in peak form, with many, many mountain summits and solo backcountry hikes under my belt but I was a young chick with long blonde hair and I guess that’s all a lotta men need to know.
How’s this for eerie? I was reading the description of the Mt. St. Helens blast in a New York Times article at 8:32 AM this morning, the exact time of that blast 40 years ago.
Pictures don’t lie: The skies are clearing now that most human shenanigans have been shut down.
Photoshop, you say? Explain to me how Photoshop is reducing asthma….
If you ignore the coronavirus beach ban and go surfing alone, the shark doesn’t have to choose: He knows which nicely-browned Moondoggie ass he’s going for.
I love all these “surprise” stories about how animals are being animals now that all the obnoxious humans are gone. What did you think they were gonna do? Whip out hidden cellphones and start sexting?
Whales already know how to sing and they’re doing it a lot more now that we’ve shut the hell up. Flamingos are throwing raves. Cows are showing off their beach bodies on the Corsican beaches. Brits are staring at blue water and weeping into their PG Tips.
