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Hello Mr. Brad.

This Boise, this sound like crazy place. But maybe WHOLE WORLD is crazy place!

But seatbelt is maybe not so crazy. This is good thing him done for you.

I worka the gassa stazione. Very too much to party the lasta night, okay? I blow theesa luncha already many time. I pumpa the gassa, she no good -- she a stink and she make-a me almost to blow theesa luncha for the people who buys the gassa. Theesa no good, okay? I likes to go to the home.

Mr. Rossi, he worka the gassa stazione, he maybe have-a the head injury, okay. He make-a the paint to the big sign all day. Theesa paint she too strong, she make-a the Mr. Rossi more stupido. Maybe Mr. Rossi he make-a the party all day too, okay?

I aska Mr. Rossi, "Take me to the home." He say, "Okay."

We make-a the Plymouth Satellite to the home. I no use-a the seatbelt for she make-a me to blow theesa luncha some more. Mr. Rossi, he drive a like the Fittipaldi, okay? He make-a the fifty, the sixty, the seventy for the thirty. Theesa too much. Theesa crazy. He say, "No you worry. I slow down when we make-a to the home."

We no make-a to the home. We make-a to the tree. Theesa Plymouth Satellite, she make-a to the big tree for her side, for the side for Mr. Rossi. She make-a the seventy for the tree and she make-a the big a BANGA! The biggest a banga. I never hear the bigger a banga.

I no go to sleep the whole time. When I see we make-a for the tree I make-a me body like the bocce ball and put her for the floor close to the box of the gloves, okay? Then we make-a the big a BANGA! but I no go to sleep. I think we both go for the big a-sleep when we make-a for the tree, but I no go to sleep. Then I think Mr. Rossi go for the big a-sleep sure.

Mr. Rossi, he is a share his a-seat with the tree. The glass she is all over and the blood. Is like the bigga stromboli she explode. The car she is make-a the big a banga and now she is a quiet. I no looka to Mr. Rossi. I think for the tree and the blood he make-a the big sleep sure. I toucha hees hand to see does he make-a the big sleep. He squeeza me hand and I know he no make-a the big sleep already.

The polizia she arrive and the ambulancia. Theesa men for the ambulancia they make-a me the rescue allegretto. Bravo! Grazie! Mille Grazie! Theesa polizia he make-a to ask-a me the questions. Theesa medicino he tell theesa polizia, "Silencio!"

Theesa car, she no make it. Theesa tree she no make it. Me and Mr. Rossi, we make-a the seventy for the tree and still we both-a make it.

i post to this board for fear of future nears death time is upon
me. all of bandmates seem to be getting into terrible car crash.

one and only brad the drummer make car roll over many times!
so many times he make car roll it decide to not work any more!
brad walk away from this happening with only a scratch!

then

the american bass player go to drive around in chicago in the late
afternoon and taxi driver have one too many grappas and crash into
the american bass player! the american forget his person number and date
for a while and don't know what fhaging happen when grappa man
crash into driver side of car. oh me!

maybe i have charity event this weekend to bash my car with sledgehammer.
yes! i shall exchange future near death experience for monster
truck style car smash up time! you choose to spend time with me
then you choose to dance with the angel of death!

the future near death attack three times!

I felt the cold breath of death on my neck maybe three times. Canoes and lightning are recurring themes...

1) Lincoln, Nebraska: 1991. I was almost struck by a car as I crossed the street. The car was driven by Carol Ann Fugate, who was Charlie Starkweather's killing-spree girlfriend. She was dressed as a clown. I'm not kidding.

2) Lightning bolt hit a telephone pole about 7 yards in front of me. The loudest, brightest, most disorienting experience of my life, followed by a shower of sparks and me running and screaming like an ape -- all higher brain functions shut down; I was overcome by dumb, animal fear.

3) Last summer in Michigan I was an afternoon canoe trip. Pleasant enough day, down a little lazy river in the middle of nowhere. The sky turned dark and green, and a storm swept over us. Sheets of rain and lightning hitting trees on the shore. I was paddling to beat the band. After a minute or two I accepted the fact that death was likely upon me. I felt very peaceful (adrenaline was keeping me paddling, a physical auto-pilot). I was thinking about the tube amplifier I had just ordered, and electricity, and how I would probably never get to hear that amp, and how I was about to be killed by electricity.

But I survived. The amp is OK. There was a tornado that blitzed through the town we had departed from. God protects fools.

alex wrote:Everything I keep thinking of involves bikes or public transportation and somehow I feel like that?s cheating. If you?re not reconciled to your own death when choosing to transport your ass by bike or CTA then you?re willfully deluding yourself. I forgot about weather and K cars too--both have also allowed me a glimpse at the face of death.

Anyway, once I was catching a bus in London and you know they have this absurd thing where there?s no door, you just step up into the bus- very civilized. (can you imagine how many Americans would die every day if buses had no doors?)

CODA: London's no-door-on-the-back double decker buses (they are called Routemasters), one of the most technically modern, environmentally sound, fuel efficient and quickest bits of public transport ever put into service in the world are shamefully being withdrawn and are vanishing fast from the streets, cos more and more people seemed to be falling off the back of them and dying. Apparently (usually drunk) Americans falling out and suing have helped hasten their demise. Many of them are 1960s vintage and have over 2 million miles on the clock. END CODA

Superking wrote:1) Lincoln, Nebraska: 1991. I was almost struck by a car as I crossed the street. The car was driven by Carol Ann Fugate, who was Charlie Starkweather's killing-spree girlfriend. She was dressed as a clown. I'm not kidding.

Salut, Superking! I am glad you are to make the living still, if only so you can tell us esto estoria, si? It has the scent of the bene fictionizini, but it is of the true! Salut!

Si, si! This story, she is the truth, I swearing it on mi mama! Why to make a story so much with the crazy absurd?

I mind my own business, I drink the coffee with the cigarettes inna coffee house, like a young man wants to do in the college town of this Lincoln, Nebraska. I think the thoughts-a-brooding, like a young man he want to do. So deep, these thoughts! So deep inna thought! So deep to step into the street without looking both ways, like your mama says. Look both ways!

I hear the sound of the squealing of the brakes, and the sight of the big car -- the big car she's a coming at me, and I freeze and forget allabout my deeping thoughts. This big car stop just in the end of time, and on me notta one bruise. Then I see in the big car, there is a clown in the car. Not so many clowns, like the many clowns in the little circus car. Just the one clown woman in the big American car.

OK. You know the Boss Man, this BRUUUCE, he say in his record (she is called Nebraska, so good a record for this Boss), he say

I saw her standin' on her front lawn just twirlin' her baton
Me and her went for a ride sir and ten innocent people died

Si! Make that almost to Eleven innocent, this clown almost to run me over!

The town, she was ringing because of the anniversary, this anniversary from so the long time when Charlie Starkweather was to kill so many innocents. Just for kicks, he did, for Elvis even.

This Carol, she ride along. She's the sweetheart of this James Dean boy. But she say, "no! The victim I am as well, to kidnap me is what he did", so they sent her away for many the years, to women's prisons, just like inna movies.

I see her on the press conference TV next day, she say she no kill no one. She say to Lincoln, "please forgive me! I was the victim , to kidnap me is what he did! I am like you in my sadness and my victimness!"

The town, this Lincoln, she holds the grudge. The reporter, he say, when this Carol comes to the town, she wears disguise, she dress like a clown or a gorilla, but this time a clown! And then I say, Yes Roomate! This clown that tried to show me the death blow, it is her! It is the Carol Ann Fugate!

I am the whitewater rafting trip guide. Each day of work I seal myself about the waist into the kayak, the elongated tube of plastic with precarious lateral equilibrium, and paddle myself down several miles of the flowing river.

It is the summertime. Much of the water, it has evaporated. The current, she is weak.

I am to float in the water near placid. I am to suffer of the boredom. I feel to practice of the flip upside-down and roll-back-to-surface trick.

I am the amateur of the kayak.

I flip to the upside down, on purpose. I am inside of the kayak, making of myself vertically submerged in the water. I try the twist of my paddle to the side and to pull myself to surface. I fail. I try again, with the same of the ugly results.

This image, she is of the predicament:



I release my paddle to attempt of the escape system, which is to pull the handle of the neoprene sealant device about my waist which is attached to the kayak, to make of the seal to be removed.

The handle, she breaks off!

The handle, she is useless and detached in my fingers! I am to attempt the dig of my fingers into the rubber seal stretched tightly about the hole of the boat so as to remove it, but my fingers, they are weak! I am unable to remove the seal, cosi bruto e dificile! I am trapped within this boat, beneath of the terrible river!

I begin to gasp for the beautiful air, but receive only hideous water in my yearning lungs!

I begin the terrible panic! In my last attempt to survive this embarassing death at the hands of nature, hubris, and stupidity, I dig my claws into the neoprene stretched above my lap and pull towards my chest with all of the possible might!

The rubber seal, she breaks! Che miracolo di Dio! My inverted vessel, she fills with the beautiful water and my body is displaced to the wonderful free and flowing river! To the surface I rise and to suck in the beautiful air of life!

The tourists of the nearby raft, they stare dumbly and say, "Are you well? We were wondering if we should have helped to you."

I care not of their foolishness! I survive! La vita, che bella e!

You can not kill pure concentrated 100% EVIL!!!
I refuse to fear or die.