Way.
After you get up off the floor from the thunderbolt that just blew you off your swivel chair, read on.
Yeah buddy! Vance has a new blog post. And it on'y took 3 or 4 years to come up with something to say.
Sooo, remember when I wrote about the little theater in Berkeley that I got dragged to and actually enjoyed? I had a similar experience recently I thought I'd tell you, the loyal VR, about.
I know! WTF! Vance goes to some more nudder thing he'd rather be dead than do?
Well, that's a mite strong, but let's leave it for dramatic effect, 'n' stuff.
Anyways, it was apparently for an important cause. It appears that in the interest of going to Cuba to see some old cars rattling around, Vance had to agree to participate in the machine of Cultural Exchange and Awareness, International Relations, and The Arts!
Vance? Unlikely ambassador, right? Autistic, perhaps, but certainly not artistic.
I love that joke. Gets funnier every time!
Don't get all anxiety ridden! I behaved. Barely even whinged and sniveled. That took an effort, but hey! Like Mashie said that other time: "It isn't all about Vance......"
Pffft.
I'm still trying to get over that particular revelation. But back to it: It seems, that if you're gonna try to slip into Cuba from the US for a bit of a beach vacay, so's to ride around in '59 Chevys with Skoda engines all up in 'em, 'n' stuff, and enjoy a bit of a holiday, forget it.
The US govmint just says "NO" to that particular scenario. Apparently, some of us are still pissed that Castro and Che and them all took away our sandbox, so the ones who's still pissed had to make stupid and intrusive rules for us to go see a couple Chevodas. I had to sign a paper promising I'd participate in 8 hours per day of cultural and educational programming, just to get into the place.
Vance doesn't do something like that willy-nilly, as you, my loyal VR, well know.
What did this mean in actuality? Read on.
But first, here's a bit of Havana-style Studebaker eye candy to whet your appetites:
After you get up off the floor from the thunderbolt that just blew you off your swivel chair, read on.
Yeah buddy! Vance has a new blog post. And it on'y took 3 or 4 years to come up with something to say.
Sooo, remember when I wrote about the little theater in Berkeley that I got dragged to and actually enjoyed? I had a similar experience recently I thought I'd tell you, the loyal VR, about.
I know! WTF! Vance goes to some more nudder thing he'd rather be dead than do?
Well, that's a mite strong, but let's leave it for dramatic effect, 'n' stuff.
Anyways, it was apparently for an important cause. It appears that in the interest of going to Cuba to see some old cars rattling around, Vance had to agree to participate in the machine of Cultural Exchange and Awareness, International Relations, and The Arts!
Vance? Unlikely ambassador, right? Autistic, perhaps, but certainly not artistic.
I love that joke. Gets funnier every time!
Don't get all anxiety ridden! I behaved. Barely even whinged and sniveled. That took an effort, but hey! Like Mashie said that other time: "It isn't all about Vance......"
Pffft.
I'm still trying to get over that particular revelation. But back to it: It seems, that if you're gonna try to slip into Cuba from the US for a bit of a beach vacay, so's to ride around in '59 Chevys with Skoda engines all up in 'em, 'n' stuff, and enjoy a bit of a holiday, forget it.
The US govmint just says "NO" to that particular scenario. Apparently, some of us are still pissed that Castro and Che and them all took away our sandbox, so the ones who's still pissed had to make stupid and intrusive rules for us to go see a couple Chevodas. I had to sign a paper promising I'd participate in 8 hours per day of cultural and educational programming, just to get into the place.
Vance doesn't do something like that willy-nilly, as you, my loyal VR, well know.
What did this mean in actuality? Read on.
But first, here's a bit of Havana-style Studebaker eye candy to whet your appetites:
Kew, huh? I promise I'll give you a look at a Chevoda or something later on.
This is what it means in actuality: Imagine: Vance is sitting in a single row of metal folding chairs with the 10 others in his group, in a darkened theater, nearly on the stage. All of a sudden, the Fish Dance on Steroids begins all up in his grill!
It's a modern dance interpretation of the beginning of the world, then the history of mankind through...well,... history, by 30 dancers who gyrate and gesticulate and terpret modernly through dance the whole shebang! And writhe!
There's hella keening and misery and throwing theyselfs to the floor in despair. There was battles raging and raping and pillaging and murders and meat eating and fur wearing and child abuse (Implied. No actual children were molested.) Then all of a sudden, Jazz was born. 2 minutes of happiness and joyousness, then..... BAM! Back to throwing theyselfs to the floor in despair.
I think that happy part was when Obama got elected. Then, you know... There was no orange wig in evidence, so I can't be positive about that being the sole reason for the abrupt change back to all the keening, wailing, and writhing, but it works for me.
And that was just one morning's Cultural Exchange and Awareness, International Relations, and The Arts! It was all exhausting. Then, to make matters even more deprivational, all they drink in Cuba is Mojitos!
There's crap beer too. And, the only gin they have is Spanish! Just imagine......
Here's the promised picture, only it's a Chevundai:
Yup. It's a Hyundai 4 cylinder diesel engine in a pink fitty nine Chevy.
Just to make you think that the Oldsmocedeses and Ladarolets were not the only reason Vance was interested in Cuba, here's another picture:
I'll tell you all about it next time in:
Vance's Big Review of Cuba by Vance*
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