2003sep26. Mail.
re: the story about the petrified wood. I swear I read something a long time ago about a volcano in Hawaii where people were returning lava rocks by mail for similar reasons, ie. bad things happening to them since they stole from the volcano goddess. I seem to remember that the post office was swamped with all these rocks, and it was somebody’s job to drive them from the post office back to the volcano. No word on whether things improved for people who returned the rocks ...
That’s what I could do! I could do that job. Rock delivery person. In Hawai'i. I’ve been meaning to put up some pages on a “back stage” tour of the California Academy of Sciences which I will probably call “Back Stage Tour California Academy of Sciences 2003 2000.” The dear, dear person leading us around showed us a similarly-swiped object:
Hello There! (5/19/03)You can practically smell the guilt. Must of have been hippies on some freaky-deaky love hoo-doo psych-out glam fest drug trip. I hope the Curse of Scooter is in full glorious vent.my name is scooter. About six or seven years ago I wandered out of the museum in search of adventures, fame, and/or fortunes. I’ve been sadly disillusioned by the world outside and almost died of homesickness. Some nice folks in North Beach offered to mail to the museums doorstep; now it’s up to you to make sure I get back to my home in the African Watering Hole at the end of the hall.