Recently M was over at my house and asked me who the “Ich Crew” was, as spaceC, RK and I have all mentioned them. At the time we were sitting on the porch and I pointed at the house directly across the street where a sizable number of grubby looking adults and half naked tottlers stood in the dirt driveway smoking cigarettes and looking stupid. I explained that we strongly suspect the whole bunch are addicted to pain killers, the ones that make you Ich, thus the name.
Shortly after M left, late in the afternoon, the industrious and ichy bunch proved that they are productive members of society by constructing their own clothsline, in the front yard, using literally nothing but sticks, twine and their intellect.
Not to be rude, but I will point out that the line was doubled up, it was long enough to make it to the palm tree in the background; the half-assed stake is totally unneeded.
Anyway the search mission and the 4:19 traffic reports will resume shortly, once it isn’t so obscenely hot and humid. And the helicopter is down… literally. I was a bit drunk and threw it off the roof.