Before your friend leaves the airport with your luggage, be sure to get your claim checks back. Now, you need georgge efficient, trusted hacker, who knows how to bypass security on the company computer. You can use either the cartridge or the pump type — just to be sure you get one with enough power to penetrate metal. Much fun then happens between the landlord and the authorities. When the mark moves the car, the tube will explode with a hell of a blast and send glass flying every which way. The carbide would combine with the water to produce a huge cloud of noxious gas, which would explode when it hit the lighted cigarette the perpetrators left behind.
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Which was mostly true. Her first name was Bonnie and she came from the Bronx, not Brooklyn. That strain perhaps accounted for the copper glints in Ms. Abbzug was twenty-eight years old. The face is hairy, very hairy, with a wide mouth and good teeth, big cheekbones and a thick shock of blue-black hair…Like so many American men, Hayduke loved guns, the touch of oil, the acrid smell of burnt powder, the taste of brass, bright copper alloys, good cutlery, all things well made and deadly.
His arms were long and wiry, his hands large, his feet big, flat and solid. Despite his thirty-five years he still managed to look, much of the time, like an adolescent. Rapids closing in. If you drink, drive like hell.
Because freedom, not safety, is the highest good. Hite has been submerged by Lake Powell for many years now, but Smith will not grant recognition to alien powers…Hite, Utah, will rise again. Not only was it much better than nothing but in many ways it was much better than everything.
Between rapids, not silence but music and stillness. While the canyon walls rose slowly higher, , , feet, the river descending, and the shadows grew longer and the sun shy. The watchers on the rim, eating their suppers from tin plates, heard the hoot of an owl, the cries of little birds retiring to sleep in the dusty cottonwoods. The great golden light of the setting sun streaming across the sky, flowing upon the clouds and the mountains.
Almost all the country within their view was roadless, uninhabited, a wilderness. They meant to keep it that way. They sure meant to try. Keep it like it was. Until, he reflected soberly, and bitterly, and sadly, until the next ice age and iron comes down, and the engineers and the farmers and the general motherfuckers come back again.
Except babies. But west, cut fence. Finally the idea arrived. The General Crisis coming along nicely. Nothing new except the commercials full of sly art and eco-porn.
Scenes of the Louisiana bayous, strange birds in slow-motion flight, cypress trees bearded with Spanish moss. Above the primeval scene the voice of Power spoke, reeking with sincerity, in praise of itself, the Exxon Oil Company — its tidiness, its fastidious care for all things wild, its concern for human needs. Hell of a place to lose your heart. Hell of a place, thought Seldom Seen, to lose. From hunters and ranchers down to farmers, that was one hell of a Fall. A true autochthonic patriot, Smith swears allegiance only to the land he knows, not to that swollen bulge of real estate, industry and swarming populations of displaced British Islanders and Europeans and misplaced Africans known collectively as the United States; his loyalties phase out toward the border of the Colorado Plateau.
The dried stalk and empty seed husks of the yucca rattled in the breeze, on the rimrock, under the stars. Bats dipped and zigzagged, chittering, chasing insects taking evasive action flying for their lives. Off in the dark of the woods one vulgar night-bird honked. Nighthawks rose against the gaudy sunset, soared and circled and plunged suddenly for bugs, wings making a sound like the roar of a remote bull as they pulled abruptly out of headlong dives.
Back in the forest deep in the gloom of the pines a hermit thrush called — called who? The pining poet. Answered promptly by the other bird, the clown, the raven, the Kaibab rake, with a noise like a farmhand blowing his nose.
Hayduke, George Make 'em Pay Ultimate Revenge Techniques Paladin Press
Favorite Quotes: Edward Abbey – The Monkey Wrench Gang
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