H. Robert Mac
Perhaps not surprisingly, the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy has no entry for Hugh, who resides in a mysterious part of BC often referred to as “the middle of nowhere”
He can be reached by email.
The Proposition at Café Lemonade
“Oh,” said one, the taller of the four seated aliens, “You needn't tell me about Humans, Mr Skorsjeld. I have had my share of them.”
“Out here on the perimeter there are no stars; out here we is stoned, immaculate.” Jim Morrison “Yeah, yeah, connected, connected,” his voice said, “You could say that. They shagged each other, and then they got arrested. That's a connection. Why do you keep going on about connection? It's weird. Anyway, you gonna be at Martina's house tonight? She's expecting both of you so don't disappoint her. Cuidate.”
You Can Leave Your Hat On
Look babe, let me take care of some housekeeping. Clearly I have screwed up. I’m not going to ask for amnesty on that. I sure as hell won’t argue it down to a fake equality and pretend you are somehow just as bad. I’m tired of those childish tricks. They sound cheap and weak in my own ears. It seems like my pride has not been helpful throughout all of this, and I’d like to start this time by leaving it behind.
Smells Like Team Spirit
Despair and bitter humor in the mountains that civilization forgot; Punitive nit-picking by ninnies, and the choler of being late to the party.
"I get all my papers and smile at the sky For I know that the hypnotized never lie " The Who In the early evening warmth of summer, in the well-groomed and manicured back yard of an upper crust neighborhood came three young people; two young men and a young woman. To suggest that they were furtive about their entrance may be going too far, at least inasmuch as they seemed to hurry to the gazebo by the lake where they might not be overheard. Yet they cast no wary glances about them. They did not minimize their body language to give hidden watchers the impression that they could be anyone. They were silent while they crossed the cleverly mowed lawn, however, apparently satisfied to wait until they gained the destination to broach the topic of their meeting.
Now let me tell you about The People, as they were when I was a vital young man, that you might see. Let me tell you about my brother from the lands to the south, and the demon that tormented him.
Thus far, we have wandered pellmell through several fabled lands, always within a snapshot of their lengthy histories. Always getting a sample of their people in the midst of events that have been brewing for ages, perhaps repeating endlessly but maybe not, we have explored what must seem like an alternative history. If we are to be of the utmost brevity, the people do not behave as one might expect them to, unless one is indeed a hostile cynic. And yet, although we intend to continue in this vein, there is another history begging to be heard; not for any need of its own, rather it begs to offer a scrap of background in the mosaic we have the honor to present. It does not need us to understand, but we need it, in order to make sense of our hero's admittedly unusual experience.
A Heart of Drunkness
Quite a few years back, my mother married a guy in Prince George, We’ll call him Ray. You have met Ray many times. He is the older guy, probably a mechanic or a truck driver, probably drunk when you meet him but so comfortable that way that you might not notice at first.