We here at the DangerSeekers Ranch have been rustlin' up o-pin-ions fer roundabouts since two aught aught aught online, and fer ages before in the real, non-virt'al world. Well these ponderin's ain't just about the glories a the silver screen, yeeehowdy, no! We done mustered up some strong opines about every dang thing under the sun, and some of 'em get us revved up like a mechanical bull on rocket fuel! So now we went and built us a bitchin' post to gets the burrs outta our saddles and clear the chafe from our chaps. Some a these are soft and breezy bouts a whimsey, while others pack more poison than a conga line a rattlesnakes, so LOOK OUT! And just to help you along the way, we got our resident Hyper-Texans Earl and Hank, seen in that photopicture. They're gonna tour the world, seein' sights and findin' things fer us to go sun-baked loco on. Now saddle up, Junior Snideshooter, this verbal lynch mob's got its torches lit and it's roundabout dusk, if ya cotton ta my banter...

SOME DESERTED ISLAND

Well, sure enough we found oursel's in a one o' them little Buddy Holly air jitneys making our way 'cross "The Big Pond." What I found out as we went on our way, was that we was passin' over what some of them conspiracy goofwads call "The Bermuda Triangle." As far as I can figger, it's marked by air and sea, and how somebody gon' make a triangle outta that, just makes my head spin and grab a cup a warm hot coffee. I've been takin' to coffee lately. They say it don't go too easy on the nerves, but neither does havin' some tub a tin spin roundabout until yer face first in a sandbar, piece of driftwood I'd have a hard time tellin' my wife about, to keep it polite.

Now Hank was one a them Junior Achievers in his day, and he knew all kinds a stuff like makin' rope from grass, and all sorts a things from coconuts. Didn't have no cocnuts, not there, but he'd sit up all night and describe the things he could make to us. Shep seemed to get a bit restless, but Shep's like that. He just wanted to play, I suppose. I made a promise to Hank that when we got a chance we'd go someplace with cocnuts, so he can go ahead and build all thoses sorts a things, but he seemed fine just tellin' us about 'em. That's Hank for ya.

Eventually, after we reckoned it'd been a few months, and we needed to get back to all these travels we done promised ya, we fashioned a raft outta some of the plane, some trees, and all sortsa desert island whatnot. When we thought it was sea worthy, we sailed 'round to the other side a the island. Shep had sniffed out a trail to where we could see a nice hotel over there, and sure if he weren't right. ANyway, off we are again, this time flyin' commercial, you betcha!

ISLA SORNA

Earl and Hank are reporting in that the jungle retreat they went to in order to start out their quest was not exactly fun:

"Yee howdy, we got ourselves in one big messa trouble. Some big ole crocogators came outta the woods and went a chompin' at us. Shep here went an' tried ta bark one a tha littler ones away, but ole Shep didn't realize most critters gotta be taght ta listen ta Shep. You shoulda seen his face when one a them gussied up rattlers took a nip outta his tail!

While we was lookin' for a tradin' post, get somethin ta wet the pipes, and whatever jerky they got from the local wildlife, we bumped inta this fella, got all jumpin in our case about not bein' here, the place ain't natural, so on and so on. Hank thinks it was that guy what was the grown up Damien in "Omen 3," and dern if he wasn't spot on. It's my fav'rite of the lot, so I was keen to pick up on it too. I seen him go kinda off in a couple a movies, like when they remade "Black Hole" a few years back an' he sold his soul ta some whirlygig in the spaceboat. Neither way, he didn't seem like the kinda fella you wanna take directions from. No, sir.

We made our way out alright doin' what we normally do when we surrounded by critter: the two stick shuffle we call it. Ya get yer long stick in yer right hand, cause this one ya need ta aim. Poke the critter in the chest, ta show it who's boss. That don't work, poke 'em in the throat, it's what my city friend calls an Alpha move, I call it pokin'. He still comes, go fer the eye, fer obvious reasons. Now, ya already poked it a few times over, yer gonna wanna get outta the way, eye or no eye. He loses the eye, just dive an' let him take out another critter. Ya miss, that's what the other hand is for, cause ya get yerself a good sized log, hold it up the whole time you can just drop it down and give the bugger a winter's stockpile a WhatFor. Fer the bigger critters we just used some a the TNT Hank brings along "in case." So for the record, Isla Endor just plain sucks as a vacation spot. Now we just need to see where we go next.