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Last Year Sucked Playa Dust!
by the Right Reverend "Blind Toaster"

So Burning Man may be the only goddamned place left in the fucking world where more than five people can gather together without a fucking cell phone which is a GOOD thing. But lucky me! Last year, I got to sit next to some techno-chick at the oh-so-cool big burning of the Man and she has a freakin' walkie-talkie glued to her ear. And she's like, "Hey Sage, what's it like over on the other side of the burn? It's like, weird over here. My sister didn't come with me because she's all 'I've had enough of those goddamn hippies and I'm just staying in my tent and X-ing-out all by myself tonight.' It's cool though, I'll talk to ya later."

Yeah, why don't you bring a fax machine with you next time!

Then, the next day I went out to this largest nude picture in the world thing at 8 a.m. and it's 45 degrees out and my nuts have shrunk up to my armpits and this Spencer Turnip guy is all like "I'm a professional photographer from New York and you all have to sign a photo release before I can take nude photos of you and sell them."

"What do you get? You get to be in my pictures." Oh yeah, and take off all your jewelry and hide your tattoos because I want this to be real natural. Yeah, like 2,000 people are naturally in the desert all the fucking time! And I'm thinking, "Goddamn, I just drank five cups of coffee to make it here and you' e making us stand around and there is no place to urinate. So there are 2,000 of us lined up like concentration camp inductees heading for the showers and we're freezing. My bladder is bursting and there's a bunch of fat geeks in wind breakers on the sidelines trying to take pictures of the 2,000 nude people because this is, like, the best thing they have seen since the Baywatch marathon on TV.

And what did a get from Turnip? Not even a fucking Christmas card! And my dick and 1,999 other people's genitals are on his web site.

And my camera? I had to get it tagged like it is some sort of pipe bomb or something. This year, I hear the media people are tagging tape recorders, sketchbooks, and diaries, and that they'll make every vehicle leaving Burning Man pass through a giant demagnetizer to make sure that you "leave without a trace" of any recorded memories.

But here I am, back again this year. I mean, fuck, if they're charging $200 a ticket, then it's gotta be good, right?



2002 Piss Clear
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