Kids 1 Saturday Kid Adventure Did you read last year's yellow signs and think to yourself: "I don't know who made these, but I better keep that jackass away from my kids..."? Do I have great news for you! I’m taking my own kids, and a bunch more, on a grand tour of the entire BitF site on Saturday from 1 to 5 PM . I have 5 remaining slots for your kids (age 3-9) so that you and your partner can have a few hours to get extra nasty and super sweaty Message me to secure a spot, or find me at BitF to see if there’s still room for your kid. Conditions apply: 1. Your kid must be wearing sunscreen upon arrival. 2. Your kid must come with a water bottle. 3. Your kid must be vaccinated ( my kids have rabies ). 4. Your kid will be required to wear the brightly colored t-shirt I hand them. 5. Your kid will be fed candy (and fruits and snacks, possibly with actual sustenance). 6. Your kid must be not be a whiny little bitch There’ll be (a kid appropriate amount of) walking, and I can carry at most 3 kids at once. My guarantees: 1. A reasonable chance that your kid won’t be the one that gets injured. (but don’t worry, I’ll carry a band aid on me). 2. I will not use the words “ whiny little bitch ” in front of your kid. 3. Your kid will make new friends, do some crafts, have a great adventure, love every minute of it, and see why BitF is such a fantastic event Normally I’d offer this on Friday, but because it’s a new site I want to scope the lay of the land properly myself before I take eight kids in tow. This photo is from two years ago and has nothing to do with offer above. But those kids are mine, and ex- cept for the one impaled on the handle-bar-horn, they’re still alive today (mostly thanks to their mom). More Dumb 1 Slip and Slide • Do you want to volunteer at BitF, but your AA-meeting is on the same night as ranger-training? • Do you want to contribute at BitF, but can’t bring yourself to crocheting twenty-five anatomically correct vulvas? • Do you want to make a splash at BitF, but get disappointed when people don’t understand your take on ‘water-sports’? Fret no more, do I have a project for you! Last year I bought a giant roll of solid heavy-duty plastic and made a slip-and- slide for my kids. They didn’t really take to it. Oh well, more sliding for me – spoiled little shits. (I love them so much.) At any rate, the slide in this photo was made using about a fifth of the roll. In other words; I have miles of plastic left. And I want you to use it to go big ! Please take what’s left of my roll of plastic, and build me a slip-and-slide down the hill- side, transitioning into a ramp, and help us get some real solid air this year. Think along these lines (but with less posers): Honestly, I wish I had time and resources to make this happen myself – just so I wouldn’t have to hear how one of you numbnuts will spend multiple weekends slaving away to build this thing, only to steal my thunder at Burn in the Forest because some of all y’all actually believe execution is more important than my awesome ideas. (...I don’t actually think this.) But alas, my desire to actually launch from one of these things is greater than my need to be that incredibly awesome legend of a guy or girl that brought the slip-and-slide ramp to BitF in 2019. (Because let’s be honest. You’d be a leg- end.) So that’s why I whipped up some schemat- ics, and attached them here for you to devel- op. Come on then. Get ‘r done! p.s. In all seriousness, while I’d love to see a slip-and-slide ramp one day – I’ll give the plastic to whomever is organizing a slip-and- slide this year. Send me a message and we’ll figure it out. p.p.s. But slightly more serious though, come on people; there are enough savy people in this community to build a kick-ass ramp. We don’t need an effigy, we need a launch struc- ture big enough to launch idiots into space I’ll even throw in a hundred bucks of my own money for any Home Depot supplies, and a pump-and-sprinkler system to keep the ramp slippery during use. Your Banana Is Huge • Did looking at Snug Lake photos leave you concerned about the apparent lack of flat and level camping spots? • Have you been preparing for a Thursday Thunderdome, when all early- arrivals fight to the death for the right to sleep horizontally? Fear no more, because this comparison chart will al- leviate all your concerns. A cursory look at the Snug Lake photos will give an initial impression of a site that almost seems smaller than last year’s BitF site. Turns out, that assumption is not just erroneous, it’s also completely wrong as well as mistaken and faulty. There’ll be plenty of flat ground. So all y’all who have hard time sleeping diagonally when sober; turns out you won’t have to do drugs af- ter all. BASE 1 Trouble at the Border I mean, he's cool and inspirational and all, but fuck that shit. I care about me, my own misery. I used to be a BASE jumper, and I was part of this BASE jumping team called Team Splatu- la – because whenever we jumped, we’d al- ways carry a spatula, so that if one of us “went in” (BASE speak for dying on a jump), the other team members could scrape us off the asphalt using the spatula. Hence, team Splat-ula. But I digress, that’s not the story. One of the team members had a motorcycle accident a couple of years before this story took place, and he ended up paraplegic. He miraculously continued to make the occa- sional BASE jump anyway, which resulted in me now being able to say (with a straight face): ” I’ve thrown a paraplegic off a bridge, but he was asking for it. ” That too, is a separate story though. A pretty good one, I might add – but I’ll save that one for another rainy day. At any rate, as this story goes, this paraplegic friend of mine, lying in the hospital bed short- ly after his accident; he says to himself: “ all- right, I’m gonna give this three years, and if I still believe this is the shittiest shit ever, I’m gonna pull the trigger. ” Three years go by, and on Christmas Eve a bunch of us BASE jumpers get an email that says: ” Hey guys – sitting here with a gun. Any- body got a reason not to pull the trigger? ” I forgot to mention; this guy – this depressed suicidal BASE jumper guy, he lives in L.A. One or two other team members lived in L.A. as well at the time, but the rest of us were spread from San Diego to San Francisco, Colorado to Idaho, and Washington to BC. So after a few frantic phone calls to make sure he wouldn’t do anything silly, a plan was hatched to all fly to L.A., five days later, and surprise this sad motherfucker on New Year’s Eve. You know, maybe cheer him up a bit. Fast forward five days, it’s 7pm on New Year’s Eve. I’m in a taxi, on my way to YVR airport. Sitting next to me in the taxi... is nothing. Absolutely nothing whatsoever at all . Here I am, on my way to L.A. – carrying nothing other than my wallet and passport. No checked luggage, no carry-on, no tooth- brush, not anything – other than some money and my passport. I had booked a flight to leave early evening on December 31st, with a return flight at 5 am the next day. I would simply hop to L.A. for one night, a friend would pick me up from the airport, we’d visit the party, hug our wheel- chair bound buddy, and then I’d be driven back to the airport to fly back home. Start to finish, this trip would be 12 hours , tops. Now, all off this took place long before I had heard about Burning Man. Heck, I was straight edge at the time – that meant no al- cohol, no smoking, no drugs, the whole riggamarole. Let’s just say, I was a party vir- gin. Meanwhile, the party itself was unlike anything I’d ever seen. Take the craziest Burning Man theme camp you’ve ever seen, and combine it with your best imagination of a gigantic mansion build by a wacky mid-life crisis struck genius Holly- wood millionaire – and then invite a mix of BASE jumpers and washed out celebrities, to celebrate new year’s eve. The living room had a fireplace. Not that weird you say? Fair enough, except this fire- place was in the trunk of a Volkswagen Bee- tle that was plowed halfway into the wall Outside, when you stood on the patio, you could hear the owner’s pets. Sure, you’ve heard a cat purr and dog bark before. But have you heard monkey’s screeching up in the trees? Or gigantic rainbow colored par- rots scream right into your ear, from a tree branch right next to you? Why the tree branches so close to my face you wonder? Were these small trees? No, the patio was floating in mid air , with hanging walkways connecting it to the house. To this day, I’m still not sure if the kitchen was actually the kitchen, or a video arcade hall . At any rate, there was a stove, a sink, a fridge – amidst pinball and Pac Man ma- chines. ...and by far the craziest thing of all; the goldfish. In order to get from this kitchen to the living room, you had to walk past an aquarium. What’s that? You’ve seen an aquarium be- fore? Fine, except that this aquarium was ac- tually a pond. Although, it wasn’t really a pond so much, as it was the floor. But not the kind of floor you could walk on, because it was open – and the only way to get to the liv- ing room, was to hop from one wobbly tiled pillar to the next , hoping you wouldn’t fall in- to the water - – where you’d be greeted by the biggest and brightest goldfish you have ever seen in your entire life. At any rate, let’s just say the evening was bizarre. So we cheer up our wheelchaired buddy. He doesn’t kill himself . A few years later he marries a gorgeous woman. They have twin babies together. And he ends up being the happiest motherfucker on the planet True story. None of that matters of course, because this story is about what happened to me After the party. Oh, you thought this story was about wheel- chair guy? Haha, silly you I mean, he’s cool and inspirational and all, but fuck that shit. I care about me, my own misery. Buddy, please. Around 3 am, another friend takes me back to L.A.X., I board an airplane, fly home, and line up at Canadian customs that early morn- ing, on January the 1st. Guess what, when you fly to L.A. at night, and come back eight hours later – border agents find that suspicious. Border agents get very sus- picious... Turns out, when you carry not a single bit of luggage – border agents start wondering what you were up to. When they ask: “ what was the reason for your visit to the US? ”, I discovered that a story about a suicidal BASE jumper riding his wheelchair off bridges raises a few eye brows. And should a customs agent ask: “ where did you stay while in the US? ”, you never ever want to respond with: “ Honestly mam, I have no idea where I was ... ” ” A buddy picked me up at the airport, we drove to some crazy mansion in the Holly- wood hills, did a New years eve countdown surrounded by parrots and monkeys , threw firecrackers into a burning Volkswagen Beetle, almost fell into a pond of goldfis h while trying to reach the kitchen, then drove back to the airport, flew back to Canada, and here I am right now... ” “ ...but like I said, as to my exact where- abouts five hours ago... ” ” I’m afraid I have no idea ”” I spent the next several hours behind closed doors, answering a rather thorough question- ing. Just before noon, a border agent gave me my passport back, and said: ” Okay fine, you’re cleared to go. But listen carefully; stay out of trouble . Mmm- mmkay? ” I muttered a “ happy new year to you as well ”, and went on my merry way Signs 1: Burning Man Principles Book Club Are you part of a book club, and do you wish you could somehow com- bine your love of talking about reading to your friends with your passion for perverting the Burn on top of or underneath your friends? You just won the lottery, because it’s Sign Reading Week at your neigh- bourhood book reading club! Over the coming week, we will share a variety of signs of BitFs past (as far back as 2011), with each day pertain- ing to a different theme. Your job is no different than what y’all do every week at book reading club... Come up with excuses for why you didn’t have time to read this week. Then, reflect on the deeper metaphysi- cal nature underlying the symbolism’s communicative intent and share it with your peers in the form of raw non- sense. Now, some of you will feel this is noth- ing more than some attention- whore’s brutally transparent attempt at farming Facebook likes by squeezing every last drop of reuse from his shitty old eyesore signs that weren’t even funny to begin with, not to mention; blatantly stolen from Red- dit (when it was still cool), 4chan (be- fore it was a bunch of alt-right scum- bags), and Pornhub (when you thought 4K didn’t matter). And you know what? You’d be totally right about that. But, hear me out – there are upsides to this. There’s something in it for all y’all... Every sign you see in this thread... I can not use it again it for this year’s BitF. That’d be super lame, I think we can all agree on that. So in a way, by spamming this group with the best of the worst, you’re guaranteed a com- pletely revamped and never-before- seen batch of crummy signs this com- ing July. A fresh crop, if you will. One where Sign-Manufacturing-Incorporated will have held itself to a higher stan- dard – to deliver an even greater quan- tity of mediocrity. Brace yourselves. But until then, enjoy these old ones. Today’s theme: The Ten Burning Man Principles. My already non-existent artistic skills get worse without my Photoshop, but I like to think this hard-to-see drawing really honours how all the good theme camps get things done. Who knew the Burning Man logo and BC’s favorite stolen car decal had so much in common; there’s even a prin- ciple for it! This makes a point about presence and immediacy; and then forwards it to the police; so they can be on it; imme- diately. This is one of my favorites, and really illustrates the beauty of participation Within minutes of me putting up this terrible botched together amateur-hour of a sign, somebody made an even shittier sign with a green post-it-note and sharpie, and stuck it underneath mine. Way to participate mystery person, I love you! I usually point this sign at the coolest theme camp in town, because I’m a sore loser , and I’m pissed off they’re better looking than me, and having more fun. As for the six remaining principles? Boring! Instead, go make fun with new friends and old family. Note; that’s ‘make’ fun, not ‘have’ fun. If you’re merely coming to BitF to ‘have’ fun, don’t bother. Help us ‘make’ it. Together. That’s the 0th and ultimate principle. More Dumb 2 Ball Pit Dive Let's have a cannon ball competition! Last winter I took up springboard diving classes with the North Shore Dolphins. Yes, that’s right. That’s me doing the diving , not my kids – why does everybody ask me that? Anyway, it’s given me ample access to sec- ond-hand springboard equipment, and I’m hoping to bring a beginner plank to Burn in the Forest this year. Problem is; I hear water levels are quite low, so we need a splash zone alternative There used to be an outdoor ball pit at Re- compression that I recall being quite deep. Are those people still around? If we can con- vince them to place their balls on the beach, then I’ll mount the diving board near it, and we’d end up with a primo deluxe opportunity to host an epic cannonball competition To ensure that DPW, as well as placement, and the safety department will acquiesce, I’ve sketched up these rudimentary plans. That way they’ll know that I’m serious. Whether the actual structure at BitF will look anything like this will obviously depend on the shape of the pit and the colors of the balls. Who’s with me? Kids 2 Booty at Snug Lake A pirate's adventure for treasure! Riding my bicycle home from work one day, something caught my eye as I crossed the bridge over Seymour creek. Floating down the stream, was an odd looking bottle. I quickly climbed down the river bank and waded into the water, just in time to snag it. Guess what. It was a message in a bottle Not just any message either, but an ancient map for a treasure buried at Snug Lake. According to legend, the full set of clues only reveal themselves once a year, on “the day the man burneth”. That’s crazy, what are the odds? So put on your adventurer’s boots, swear like a pirate, follow the map, and say Arrrr! The bottle contained a smaller second note. Unfortunately I lost the piece of pa- per as I climbed back up to shore. It was some kind of prophecy from the Dread Pirate Snug – I’m paraphrasing here: ...you’re all encouraged to hunt, regardless of age, it’ll be worth your while, for a treasure you’ll find. But for one group of young ones; brave, kind and awesome – an extra clue shall emerge, to reveal my true wealth, a moun- tain of sugar and sweets, not good for your health. Now, I’m not a historian or pirate scholar; but my interpretation is that you should all use the map to riddle and puzzle your way across the event grounds, you may even have fun. But only if you’re less than ten years old, and coming on Saturday’s kids tour, will you have a shot at finding the big one Signs 2: Health at Burner Events Kristen is Needy Is your name Kristen Shoichet and do you wish you had a ticket for Burn in the Forest? Oprah’s reading club suggests a book called “The Secret”. Apparently it ex- plains how to manifest all sorts of things in your life. I’ve seen people try it at past Burner events with absolutely zero success , but that’s probably just anecdotal. Sorry I can’t be more useful – therefore, in order to cheer you up... Are you Kristen Shoichet and would you love to see more photos of shitty old signs? In that case, way to manifest girl! Today’s sign reading club theme is: Health at Burner Events. Note, that has nothing to do with Kristen, it just happened to be the topic of the day. The photos you asked for are in the comments below. And remember Kristen; your job is to reflect on the deeper metaphysical nature underlying the symbolism’s communicative intent and share it with our peers in the form of raw non- sense. This sign is is one of the rare ones that actu- ally conveys a meaningful and useful mes- sage. Where most signs are just libel and slander, this one imparts a valuable lesson on the reader. Anybody walking away from this sign will feel a little bit wiser than before, and have learned of another temptation to avoid at Burn in the Forest. This sign also demonstrates the beauty of participation yet again. While the sign began its life near kids camp – some quick thinking Campocalypse people immediately realized this sign’s true destiny, and they promptly lo- cated it near the char-coal remains of some of their former camp mates (probably the ones who should’ve read this sign, but alas – water, bridge, under ). My hand lettering is terrible (no surprise there, I’m sure). I would make my signs on the computer, but printing that many individ- ual corrugated sheets isn’t cost effective. That only works if you have batch work. At any rate, I lack the foresight gene, so quite often I start writing in a certain size, only to realize halfway through the sign that I’m go- ing to run out of space. Many people will think that’s what happened here, with the “CRYST” being so much bigger than the “ALS”. You underestimate me. Think about it; “CRYST”, “JESUS”, eh? Get it... Fuck, sometimes my meta is so lame , I’m embarrassed. No, it’s not the lettering that bugs me with this one, it’s the message. It’s completely wrong. You see, both crystals and religion are two medical modalities that don’t work at all. So in actual fact; crystals are a substitute for Jesus – they’ll result in equal amounts of disappointment Usually I make around half of my signs ahead of time at home, and bring the remaining un- used corrugated board for one-off improv at the event. This one is the kind that originates while be- ing there, for better or worse. What I recall happened was that a couple of Vandango folks were jealous of Campoca- lypse’s beautiful necrophilia sign , so they asked if I could come with something really classy for their theme camp. Something that was befitting for their gentle- men-like style. I don’t know why; but this sign evokes a sort of “Back to the Future” (the Michael J. Fox movie) nostalgia in me. Perhaps because it involves your mom If you were at Recompression X, the very last one, you’ll remember a few people all lost a very similar thing. What was it again? Oh right, their con- sciousness Personally, I was convinced that it’d eventu- ally show up with DPW or Lost & Found. But cooler heads prevailed and the professionals were brought in. I don’t know the full details, but I do recall that event being cut short on Sunday morn- ing, leaving us to somehow come up with breakfast for 300 people , in Gibsons, at 8 am – remember, Recompression was a catered event. Diana and I drove to the nearby grocery store, walked into their bakery department with a pile of cardboard boxes, pointed at every single kind of bun, croissant, pastry, etcetera; and said: “ we need all of it. ” The look on their faces; priceless. They had to start baking a whole new Sunday batch for the rest of Gibsons, from scratch. At any rate, the BitF that followed that event- ful series finale of Recompression, I decided we needed some helpful reminders, so that people wouldn’t lose their shit again. And that’s how this sign came about. What can I say; I only have a couple of tropes to build my signs on, and not all of them are equally nuanced. In my defense; this was before the recent measles outbreak; and well before it was cool to be militantly anti anti-vax . So I had to skirt around the issue. These days, even the hipsters make fun of kids with measles, so this year I’ll just drop the issue all together. Poke your kids (and selfs) people!