Spring has sprung Footsoldiers and like most mammals our thoughts have turned to hot chics and fornication...er, I mean cycling of course! High up in the Foothills of Lore the prognostications were performed under the watchful three-eyed gaze of the Uber-Ancestors themselves, stirred from hibernatory slumber in the Muckery by the scent of fear (only partially emanating from our sacrificial goat, Bucky) and of course their unquenchable thirst for knowledge of the future. As tradition demands Bucky was fed honeyed groats and the softest of willow shoots before being lightly flayed, salted and defenestrated into a snowbank. Then we lowly, but highly mobile, Footsoldiers of Those Who Lurk on High followed the bloody trail o'er hill and dale with our Scythes of Destiny and Pitchforks of Poking before cornering the hapless beast in a frost-rimed gnome-grotto, fortunately for us currently gnome-free. Much stabbing ensued. Sharpened dew-claws and dextrous hind-tentacles then manueved thru the inner workings of Bucky in search of clues to the future...and thus came down the word! YOU will ride, a lot! YOU will ignore standards of decency and morality in favor of heedless plunges into the maelstrom. YOU will stop and smell the flowers, then roll in the flowers, eat the flowers, crap all over the place, light the flowers on fire and get the hell out of there! Your first opportunity to put '05 to the test comes this very week-end when Chainsaw and Highroller lead a NM migration to the land of tequila, Hatch chiles, cacti, hot springs and lingering radiation fallout! Join us won't you?
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