MWX-the dump

There are not as many things running around my head I as climb on a train this morning. I think it's because a sprained mangina is directly linked to analytical areas of the brain, and its ability to store and process long and short term memories. But, here it goes.

MWX has come and gone. And it was good. I suppose the first thing I need to address is my "low energy" Saturday morning, afternoon and night. I apologize. I think that I was exorcising a demon or two and things got a bit out of hand. Although, for those of you who thought I was sedate Saturday, you shouldn't have gone to bed Friday. Yes, it was that fucking insane. As far as you know. Ultimately I blame Jeff. Not for once again driving an ungodly distance that puts us all to shame, but to bring Ye Ole Man's Cleveland Scottish Ale, damn that was good beer. I also think it secretly had LSD in it. I still like the Temperance Personal Assistant idea for next year. I will be taking applications later in the summer. Long nipples are a must.

One major difference was the fact that MWX went electric. Steve's effort of breaking out the drums and laying down an endless stream of rockin' beats intertwined with the rippin' guitar licks of Pete literally was the soundtrack of the weekend. Of course PANT plugged in and rocked it like a hurricane. Paul "the Dulcimer boy" Kirgis expanded his resume of instruments with a bass ukulele and playing electric guitar. The good Dr. Silver is ever improving with his violin.And there is Jason. He showed us why John Popper is actually a giant pussy.

Like I did last year, here are the other highlights in no particular order.

Jeff's fucking beer. I mention it twice because it was that good.

Steve makes epic MW t shirts. The may be the best styled and the most street friendly yet. Well done. I look forward to the George Dickel inspired shirts next year.

Professor Kirgis digs a fucking hole, drops in a Dutch Oven and makes a a beautiful Meat Garden, yuppie garden enthusiasts all over the northeast fainted at the same time as a result.

Whiskey fight. I am sorry to say that I missed it. But, I am not surprised by the outcome. Sazerac Rye is one of my favorites.

Of course the gun ranges were fun and safe thanks to our sultans of the bullet, Damian and Scott. I know this because durning my third nap on Saturday, my dreams were assaulted by a hail of armor piercing bullets.

Chris Carson, thanks for showing me how to take yourself out of MW.

Thank you Kurt, for getting back out of bed to drink Tequilla. Next time, stay in bed.

Joe and Paul thank you for my birthday gifts.

Thank you Damian for the Beaver talk, next time I turn over a beaver, I'll know why he chewed off his own testicles.

Pete, thanks for being co-pilot and brining the beer, and rockin' endlessly....



So yes, another year has passed. If I forgot something forgive me. Next year the dancing monkey will do better. Peace.