Mobility Camp at Burning Man exists to get folks out on the Black Rock playa to see art and bright sparkly things when they can’t walk or bicycle long distances in extreme heat. We also…
Posts published in September 2017
Houston didn’t need to be warned. The city had already been sunk by four major hurricanes, each less powerful than Harvey, in the last 80 years. Generational storms. But boomtowns have short memories. After each…
Meg Courtney appears to be rather poor at keeping a secret. In early August Ms. Courtney somehow got hold of information from a closed session meeting of Fort Bragg's City Council. As a former council…
The Laytonville Water District regularly tests for nitrates in our water, and we have never tested positive for it. That’s because here in the Long Valley area there has never been a history of the…
Anderson Valley Fire Chief Andres Avila was resting on his back porch at his Yorkville home on a recent Sunday evening. It was a little after 8pm. The Chief was tired after a long weekend…
When I think of Mendocino I think of twisting up the serpentine highway from Navarro-By-The-Sea towards Navarro Ridge Road, and careless souls tumbling over the perilous cliffs. I think of when Olie lived on the ridge, and how he returned from Alaska one summer to find his prized mare had kicked the kind lady caretaking his horses, breaking her jaw and arm.
NORM CLOW WRITES: “Just saw your nice send-off for Gloria. This photo is the dedication page of our senior year, 1968 AVHS annual, wherein our first-year librarian was not only the advisor but also the…
“When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.” That little gem comes to us from the fevered mind of gonzo journalism's most celebrated spurious doctor, the inimitable Hunter S. Thompson, and it serves as…
After a few short miles we got to my truck, Sally. Sally the suburban drinks the 5 gallons of gas that my pops brought with him. He wanted me to go home and lick my wounds but as I told you I'm stubborn. He got in my ’burb and left his truck where mine was. I lost a day somewhere. It's Saturday night by the time we made it back to Reggae on the River. I drove right in to storm the bridge to get in. The punk security guys blocked the bridge and surrounded me. They say I'm kicked off the property and can't get my stuff to make a civil lawsuit. I'm trying to talk to my night hog people but since I was talking shit to their fearless leader, some lame with a paint job we will call “Timbo,” they didn't want to lose their jobs with the Mateel. I get it.