Wednesday, April 21, 2004

Harvesting The Elusive Wild Irish Rose

I just returned from another brain-cell-reducing jaunt to visit friends and relatives in Cincinnati, Ohio.
As usual, the experience was charming and challenging. I am always charmed by the magical bums and drunken college kids of Clifton (home of the Uof C). Whether it was Marc Anthony (who, really is more of an over-the-Rhine character) offering to wash my truck for $5 ("It's really a $60 job man, c'mon!") or the metaphysical-bum that stopped me in the park ("You got any change? No? Don't worry about it. You look like an artist. Ya ever mess with crystals?" actually, for a moment I thought he was offering me meth or something but then I realized that he wanted to talk about the power of crystals...strange) I can always be guaranteed an interesting experience in the 'Natti.

This weekend was no exception.
I got to see this dude named "Al"- an older gentleman who works as a bicycle messenger and I say, anytime you see Al then it was a good 'Natti experience. Last time I saw him he was making me try the chicken broth he kept in a thermos in his backpack. He was pretty intoxicated so I let him get away with it.
Otherwise, keep your damn Chicken Broth to yourself unless yer my boy Al you suckas!!!
I got to watch a home-video that I helped make the last time I was around and I was reminded of the best game I have ever come across in the 'Natti. No, it ain't hide the sausage you nasty mofo, it's this:

Harvesting the Wild Irish Rose
This game does not involve finding this.
Where's the fun in that?
You look for this.
Yes! Finally a way to find comfort in the sorrows of others. You see, W.I.R. is a cheap-wine, commonly referred to as "bum-piss", that has found a place in the buzz-seeking heart of bums everywhere.
They are known to blossom once the syrupy-goodness intoxicates the lovable bum and the empty bottle is either released unconsciously (as in passing out) or consciously (like being flung out of reach in a rage-induced-by-the-fact-that-there-is-no-more-cheap-wine-to-consume).
Once these bottles find their resting-spot they can blossom as treasure or all depends on you.
They can be found in their protective brown wrapping or in their full naked glory.
And they are everywhere. Look up and down when hunting the elusive W.I.R.
Finding the elusive W.I.R. takes a good eye and determination. Or at least, having nothing better to do as you wander through the park looking for a safe-place to smoke.
Chad and Aaron turned me onto this wonderful game and it has been dancing around in my head bumping into my THC-frozen synapses ever since. There is no point system-rather, the glory and fun are mainly to be found in the moment of discovery. Once a W.I.R. has been sighted, all participants must stop what they are doing to huddle around the found object and attempt to discern it's history. Occasionally what is thought to be a W.I.R. really turns out to be something worse-say, MD-20/20-because of the confusing brown-bag camouflage. But this is to be expected if one is to play the game by the rules.

No cheating! You may suspect a brown-bag to contain a W.I.R. but until all participants are huddled around the object you cannot open the bag to see if you are correct. Non-W.I.R. are promptly laughed at, and occasionally destroyed. If however, you are lucky enough to find a W.I.R. then give props to your boys and try and figure out how it found it's way from the gas-station cooler to the public park.
Once you all offer your opinions on the history of the bottle you can either leave it to be discovered by others, destroy it, or dispose of it properly in a trash-can. Then, you must find more.

Bonus Props to whoever discovers a Wild Irish Rose with an empty pack of cheap-cigarettes stuffed inside.
Bonus-Bonus Props if you find a W.I.R. blossoming in the hand of a passed-out (or dead) bum.
Obviously, the game can be played anywhere there is a high-concentration of poverty, suffering and broken dreams. Except Muncie, Indiana. Those bums drink beer and they are called college-students.
Or, as the University Police seems to think: target practice.
So next time you are in a public-park do yourself a favor and check under those bushes that smell like urine and look like someone sleeps there-you just might find the elusive Wild Irish Rose.
And there are new strains popping up daily-Fruit Punch, ginseng,etc. etc.
Fresh for 2004 you suckas!!!!!

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