Parrothead Ramblings

The Avalanche Safety Starter Kit, Suitable For Most Motor Vehicles

There's been an argument ongoing for years. It crosses over gender, ethnic, racial, and societal lines. It's a simple argument, which can be broken down into three words:

BEER: GOOD, or BAD?

I happen to lean towards good. Like, really,really way over far towards good. I can state with some confidence that most Parrotheads fall into that category. And then they fall down, and have trouble getting back up. But, there are those on the dark side of the argument, demonstrating how cultured they are as they sip Pinot Grigio from those ridiculous long-stemmed glasses. I mean, why can't you just pour it into a big tumbler, with some 7-Up and ice, and kick back and enjoy?

As cultural infidels, we have to keep a look out for those mean old backed up farts. Well, it just got a little easier. We have a new icon, a giant for our cause. Someone we can all look up to! A man whose name shall henceforth become a household word for Parrotheads and cultural infidels the world over. That's right: I'm talking about Richard Kral. A man among men. A role model for us all!

What? You don't know who Richard Kral is? Well, once again, the Crime Dog is here to educate you. Richard, it seems, was headed out on vacation in his native Slovakia, when both he and his car became buried in a dangerous and potentially fatal avalanche. It was a hopeless situation. Richard could not dig his way out of his freezing tomb, for when he tried, the snow just collapsed back into his car. So, he did what any self-respecting Parrothead might do in such a situation: he had himself a beer. You see, Richard is a man who vacations in style, for he he had in his car, within easy reach, sixty bottles of beer. No, not a six-pack. Sixty. And these were half-litre bottles, too. For those of you keeping score at home, that's 30 litres, or about eight gallons of beer.

As one would expect, nature came a-calling after a beer or two. Now what? When faced with the prospect of either refilling his bottles or whizzing out the window, our man Richard chose the latter. And the snow melted a little. And a light came on. So he drank a few more and whizzed again. And the snow melted again. So Richard Kral, as heroes often do, took matters into his own hand - so to speak. He drank and pissed his way for four days out of that avalanche, fighting his way back to warmth, daylight and safety. A rescue crew found him staggering along a mountain path, shit-hammered but alive. A man's man. A hero. I'd like to see you cultured types try that with a bottle of Chardonnay.

Personally I went right out after reading this and bought myself a thirty-pack to keep in the back seat of my car, just in case. And I know what you're thinking. No, I didn't make this one up. Now, if we could just find a story about some guy, armed only with a Zippo and some crab cakes, who escaped kidnappers by farting his way to safety, we could start a Hall of Fame.
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