From: zursch@whizkid.corp.sgi.com (Jeffrey B. Zurschmeide)
Subject: YAHOOS
Organization: Silicon Graphics, Inc., Mountain View, CA
Date: Tue, 28 Jul 1992 00:14:15 GMT


So I went camping this last weekend. 

I went to my fave high-sierra place with a couple of good 
books, my fishing pole, my beautiful wife, a basketful of
the latest in birth control technology, lots of good food 
and drink, and a comfy lawnchair. 

We went with 3 other couples, all similarly inclined. We
arrived at this idyllic spot where we camp every year and
proceeded to do the grunt work of the trip. Which is to say,
humping about a metric ton of stuff over a slight rise through 
the bushes and trees to our favorite spot by the lake amongst the
pines. This would ordinarily be no big deal, but the lake is above 
6500 feet and the air is thin enough to make it a big pain. 

But by and by we got everything together and made our camp. We 
settled down to a lovely dinner of marinated chicken and fresh
vegetable kebabs, roasted over a crackling campfire, and chased 
it with yummy chocolate pudding, hot out of the pan, no instant 
here... 

I was just satisfying myself that there was not one micron more 
of the pudding to be had in my sierra cup when we heard a couple
cars pull up beyond the rise. I had just forgotten about the sound
of the cars when the occupants of said cars debarked and the still
mountain air was rent with an energetic "YAAAAAAAAAAA------HOOOOO" 
from one of our new neighbors. It was immediately followed by a 
similar cry of "YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE---HAAAWWWWW" by another of our
fellow humans. My blood went cold. 

In the next 10 to 15 minutes, about 10 more cars showed up, all 
parking about 50 feet from our campsite, and each arriving guest
joining the previous ones by emitting the same blood curdling screech. 

It was at this point that a couple of our womenfolks got up and went 
over and said "Excuse us, but we're camping over here, can you keep it 
down, please?" (why is it that it's always the women who initiate these
confrontations?) The response came back "Uhhh, I don't think we can, we're
having a party here tonight." When our womenfolk pointed out that this was
supposedly a "wilderness" camping area where you were supposed to be 
treading lightly on mother earth, they shrugged and said "We do this all 
the time." 

So we sent off a search party to find a ranger after reading the camping
rules and material we had been given. Apparently we were right, you 
were supposed to be quiet in this area, not disturb others, not have a
fire without a wilderness permit, keep the fire in the existing fire rings,
and not have a group of more than 15 people. At this point, we counted 
more than 30 revelers over the rise. They were all in the 18-24 age range,
and had set up a big boombox with AC/DC blasting (with great distortion) 
"Back in Black" for all our benefit....I meanwhile quietly gave up hope
and started packing my things. 

About this time a gaggle of gorgeous girls came over and made their
girls dormitory across a low thicket of bushes from our camp. In other
circumstances, this might have been enjoyable, except their menfolks
was just over the rise, and we could imagine what 2 AM was going to be
like in our neck of the woods. It was about this time that I wished I
had my 12 Ga. with me, and Jill was glad I didn't. We both said so. 
I kept packing. 

Our search party came back about the time I was done loading my truck
with the news I knew we would get. The camp hosts said that the rangers
don't really enforce the rules up here, and that partiers such as those
we were experiencing were a regular feature up there, and we should be
thankful that this batch wasn't firing guns across the lake like the 
*last* batch. I was vindicated. I figured that I couldn't expect the 
rangers to kill all the boys and deliver up the virgins to us anyway,
and like rangers everywhere, would finally get around to really asking 
them in a strong voice to keep the volume down at about 5 A.M. 

So we packed the rest of our shit up in the dark and moved across the lake
where we could hear the faint "YAAAAA-HOOO" drift across on the clean 
mountain air. You could see their bonfire quite clearly, though. Mercifully,
the AC/DC didn't carry. The rest of my weekend was quite pleasant. I read
my books, enjoyed carnal pleasures with my sweetie, ate good food, and
swam in the lake. The fish weren't biting but I don't like trout anyway...

So, peevers, my peeve of the day is YAHOOS, or yobbos, or the Placerville
Po White Trash society, or the Placerville Functional Illiterates club, 
or whatever organization this was that I encountered. I hope they all 
get hoarse. 

Beyond that, it's enough to make you vote Republican or Libertarian, just
to make sure that none of these imbeciles ever benefits from a nickel
of your tax dollars. 

I'm not a racist, but I'm definitely a classist. I wouldn't let one of 
these dorks near any child of mine, and as far as I'm concerned, they 
can die in the street, painfully. And when they beg me for a crust of
bread to feed their wiling children, I'll get a big soft look in my
eyes, gaze compassionately down at them and reply:

YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-HOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

JZ