2024 Year in Review: Geolocation Disabled

Welcome, weary traveler to Sunnyside 143B. Not to be confused with 143A. Come in and sit a spell. Thank you for sharing the space. Between the pulp, fake news and amateur porn, there’s hardly enough hours in the day to absorb all the available interweb gibberish. Hopefully, this is still mostly some version of the classy trashy. Mostly. Ever bridging the gap between the bourgeoisie and the proletariat. One fire. Same as it ever was.

This is just a simple recollection of the past year, honest and littered with disparages. Still decorated with bleached, plastic flowers not stolen from a cemetery. Relax Francis. Not that you remember, but you were there. They say no two people remember an event exactly the same. It’s so easy to slip. But are we beating a dead horse? Are you what the fellas on Beech Mountain call a one trick pony? Sit back, dear reader and let yourself sail back to 2024 and like Drunkle Clayopheus said, “figure what needs figurin’.” Don’t worry little missie, there are no tiles allowed on this ride. Your map slave is working upside down and you’re still lost. It’s safe and no one knows where you are. It might even be time for you to not know where you are. It’s the 2024 Year in Review: Geolocation Disabled.

Are you lost? Do you want to be? Have you been found? Thankfully. For the lucky ones, it was another year of breathing free air and for a few, the debt had been paid. For others, the grinding of the gears was just beginning. Don’t you think you’ve paid the boatman enough? To hell with that guy. There were those who roped in thugs from the shadow places. Like Ma Roux said, “Collect the little dabs of dried toothpaste they leave in your sink and serve them back as wedding breath mints.” Welcome to the high vibration. It wasn’t that I mind if anyone was tracking my movements, but it seemed like a serious misallocation of company resources. What happened to our pension fund? For as long as I could remember, I’d been hoping someone would steal my identity, but the obvious question is why anyone would want to?

It was a year of branching out with new family and strengthening old bonds. The camp was now littered with admitted degenerates with no regard for the old ways. But there was something unusual in the stale, sandy pizza they served. Their sand had a different texture. Like the silky-smooth grit of diatamaceous earth as it removes the unwanted leftovers from your gullet. It was Black Warrior who, in 1890 asked, “Who could hold on to the wind from a burning teepee or dumpster?”

S. Jones had learned to wear cut off shorts in certain situations as a type of litmus test. Job interview, courtroom, first date. Or combined with the Waffle House first date. Waffle House in cutoff shorts and if she comes back for another, take her to the Bubble Room. Game on. Mistakes had been made. At least two times he’d gotten drunk on rum and discussed religion and abortion with his mum. Never a great starting point between a heathen and believer. So what if he wasn’t washed in the blood. He didn’t care if he and his sister weren’t able to join her in the great reward and her confession of regret and failure as a mother was a serious bummer. Moderately heavy shit for a Friday night. How’s about we just watch a Hallmark Christmas show and fall asleep in our ice cream.

Vibra Urbana in Miami got things started and the escalation came, as always with Suwannee Roots Revival and some harsh megaphone opinions from the wrecking crew.

Lacking in all the usual luster. The ladies harvested in unwashed at Resonate while Ka’aoli reallocated his own short bus of idiotas and steered for Austin, Texas and the complete totality of inappropriate delusions. His hypothesis involved measurable electrons charging his tan starfish within a fixed location on the flat part of the Earth. Oh yeah, also within the snow globe of the firmament. Like weather manipulation, sciencey. The cosmogony is yours. Pedro’s Cabinet of Expired Narcotics hosted Hobo Kamp for Suwannee Resonate and the failure to appear summons along with the restraining orders have been referred to KH legal team. 888-888-8888. Ask for Ka’aoli.

Just the protips. Gaylord, Lord of the Gays didn’t support genital mutilations and among his staunchest suggestions was not to order calamari in the Vatican. Dirty bird was seen eating vermin in Panajachel. Don’t look now but science has caught up with you. It might be time to consider a circumcision reversal. And when considering a hunting dog, know that Black Labrador Retrievers will not eat their owners after death. Somewhere along the way the crew had time to work Shaky Knees, Hangout, Bonnaroo, Oceans Calling and who can remember what else. Half of the time the Buick was in the shop, the other half of the time it was being used to make money for the most recent or next repair.

They called Summer Camp by another name but just about everything else was the same. Sporting, to be sure. Pedro’s closet of regrets took its spot in the dark of the forest. No one sees the outside from the deep shadows within. The stages, bars and whatever else is great at Summer Camp, but the forest is where the magik happens. Thank you for allowing the monkeys to take over the insane asylum. Even after leaving her self-respect in a cardboard box at Lost and Found and absorbing the curiosities that ride shotgun alongside the “hard goodbye”, there is safety within its boughs. It’s all fun and games until someone whispers that your buddy is a cop. Hard meow? Turn to page 47 if you want to keep riding this bus.

It was a time to be thankful for friends. They had leveled some moderately serious allegations in her direction but her friends were stalwart in their devotions. She’d seen strong families cleave themselves from each other for money, divorce, whatever. Houses built on sand. She found it empowering to collect new cousins into her lineage even as she was being collected into other houses. Planned marriages. Extending kingdoms. The petri dish in full effect.

Stolen identities and poorly trained professional astronauts at Mountain Music Festival? Astro-not on my watch. Never boring and surprisingly intimate, the Iceman hoodwinked his way into MMF at Ace Adventure Resort in the middle of New River Gorge, West Virginia. Who is in charge of security when this guy can slither in as a media corespondent? Jedi wook mind trick. All truths aside, that type of animal has cut their teeth sneaking into Phish shows even before their tits have fallen off. One of the obvious benefits of the methamphetamine lifestyle is it allows the user to be skinny enough to sneak through the fence into the VIPness. Mountain glory at its best. Look for the B team on the beer taps. More than one free beer? Code Red? We don’t need no badges.

In the dojo of a thousand lost memories, many thanks to Maso the forlorn. Next time it will be the wisdom teeth. Watch the six old boy, but I digress, some of these polices are best kept close to the vest. In a mire of drunken confusion they’d left Ocean City with a greater understanding of how sweet Thai chili sauce can be used to compliment jalapeno poppers.

In what has become a cornerstone of the summer work loop, EForest showed the lessons that only General Admission can offer. Pirate flags, code reds and human test apes were the order of the day and Pedro resented the muddiest Ortiz Flea Market version of the truth. Team B made camp in the Cherry Orchard with what the old folks refer to as “higher stock”.

You are encouraged to join the happy space of the snappy repertoire. Don’t worry baby, the buck stops here. Welcome to the cul-de-sac of blame. Or what your people call responsibility. Don’t worry, PTSD is not just for soldiers anymore and at the turn of the millennia, Indians litter just as much as anyone. Don’t cry for me Argentina.

FloydFest. As we found our footing on the new mountain, so did the festival find its footing on us. Like a tiny Vietnamese woman walking down your back in high heels. At times serving as non-examples and at others, the key that opens all doors. Well within the learning curve. Everything is being revealed grasshopper. Thanks always to the FF family for being consistent, whatever that means. 

Mondegreen. Trey Sees Me. The best surprise of the year and Lucy’s first Phish festival. Maso continued to lay down the Phish funk from the jukebox in Ocean City, Maryland until the old people started giving him the side eye. Knots of light pulling the body in contorted directions. At least he didn’t feel like an interloper as he slept in the front of Mason’s van, which reeked of wet shoes, bad chicken and stale urine.

Thieves stealing from thieves. How do legit hoodlums spend their time? They spent most nights at Gatsby’s enjoying live music, private shows under the stoop and loose fun in the guest house. Please shower before entering the pool. Dover is f’sho down with hood rat shit. Look for the guy on the tiny motorcycle. Loose lips sink ships. Choices had been made. Lucy was almost too sideways to work and the chickens were coming home to roost. Some headlines are best left unpublished.

Another year has come and gone. 2024 had as much as action and spunk as any prior. People were still busy about with their personal stuff and still no one wanted to hear any advice from anyone else. Nobody was overly thrilled to hear your story about “getting high at the show”. In earlier generations, intelligence was equated with the ability to listen. Not be confused with the inability to contribute. The man who could actively listen without interrupting might often be considered intelligent, without having to say a word. I’m trying to learn to stay out of my own way. It’s been said, “If someone else tried to kick my ass as much as I do, boy I would be in trouble.”

It’s Daryl’s fault. Lucy still had larval seed ticks feeding on the capillaries around the corner of her eyes. The original harvest had not all been eradicated and the second generation of arichnae were now living comfortably on and in her epidermis. When you lie down with dogs, you get fleas. Hashtag truth.

Hulaween continues to morph into something particularly otherworldly as, over the years, we work on the building. The Hulaween wedding of the year is still just like taking sand to the beach. Fake weddings in Florida are just as hot as real weddings. So you’re saying I’m not really a homewrecker? Heckfire, by the end of the day I might not even be a bad son or a dead-beat dad. Oh, how the tables have turned. Who knew? If you live long enough you get to receive all the free cars. Check the math.

Where is TooMuch?

Keep up with Wranglers Media as we steer straight into 2025 and the ten-year anniversary tour as internet media moguls. Thanks for making us one of the cornerstones of the modern etherweb. Plan A is still in effect. No artificial intelligence, real news or monetizing but ample amounts of sideways fun and increased color. Join us as we surrender freedom in the name of security. The train leaves the station soon. Git on board and join the wook wranglers ten year anniversary tour. The singularity. Ceptin’ now Mona the Adventurer is in charge so be careful what you wish for, you just might get it. Welcome to the highest vibration. Needle drop that shit. Geolocation Disabled. And don’t worry, although I did throw your tile out of the window, you should have no trouble finding it on the side of the interstate.

For Brian. Kamp Happiness pocket guitar.