The Hobo Within- An Inspirational Speech

Well Today marks 2 months of Hobo-isms. Tomorrow marks a toilette in a new house, well not new but new to me. Either way my hobo escapades will come to an end. I feel like one of those guys who gets married not because he wants to but because he has been forced into the marriage by the need for sex yet he somehow knows that the minute he gets married that need will still go unfulfilled. With that said I should be celebrating tonight with a good ol'fashion hobo party in the park, but I am not. Why? You may ask. Well its because I have to move from the basement dwelling that has hosted me for the last few months. Move? But a hobo can't have much to move??? That's right kiddies I unfortunately have lots to move and my moment of truth has come, I am in fact not a real hobo. Not by any means that the average person would consider what makes a hobo. Truth be told I am kinda hobo-istic and have very hobo tendencies. After reading the entire hobo.com website as well as the various other hobo links, I have come to respect the hobo way. At first I thought it was something to laugh at, then when I read everything I almost abandoned Hobo-isms because I felt bad. Then a shimmering light hit me, hobo is an attitude like punk. Its not what you wear, how you bath, who your friends are, what you do or where you live. It's your attitude towards these things. The realization that getting by is good enough, that others are just as important as you and that knowledge is limited if you give into capitalist ways. You realize that the freedom you have is to do what you want. The one true hobo-ism is life. Experience as much life as possible, travel, have fun and most importantly work to live not live to work. I then realized that hobo's would be fine laughing at themselves as long as their sharing it together. The last to months have re-inspired me creatively and taught me care a little less about all life's shit and to focus on the things I enjoy. Tomorrow I will forget all this and will be busy tainting my mind with aspirations of the white picket fence that somehow never satisfies. The experience has been great and thanx for coming along for the ride.

Hobo Count-122

Starstuck Hobo

I just met George Strombalambalufagus from The Hour. Apparently he is in town doing stuff for next years show on Corner Gas and Little Mosque.

Post Liz Reaction

So I had a quick talk with Liz and this is what she told me.

WH: So Liz we have had reports of you being kidnapped, leaving family behind and being on the back of a milk carton, is all this true?

LIZ: Well you know its somewhat true but its for the better. I was I guess kidnapped but I wanted to be. I wanted to escape the environment I was in. My mother left when I was very young, my dad got eaten by a fish and all the other salamanders picked on me. Thats why I made it easy to kidnap me, I wanted to be picked up and start a new life. So in a sense I wasn't kidnapped nor am I leaving any family behind. As for the milk carton I did it, to see if any one noticed.

WH: Wow that's messed up, how are you liking your new life?

LIZ: It's great, I get fed every two days and its my favorite food in the world-crickets. The layout is fantastic. I have got two mainlands separated by a stream. The stream has a large resting rock in it and if I want to cross without getting wet there is a beautiful bridge connecting the mainlands. Also the vegetation provided makes it feel more like my place. And security, nothing beats it, I don't have to worry about predators, the only ones I have take care of me. Its way better than the ditch I was in, or for that matter any salamander home, I've seen others live in cow lagoons and drinking pails or streams with fish its just madness.

WH: Well things sound good can you tell us a little bit about yourself.

LIZ: I am a Blotched Tiger Salamander or scientifically a Ambystoma-tigunum. I am 7 inches long and have a net like pattern of black on grey. My species is very common in Saskatchewan and all over the prairies but I can be found in Colorado, Nebraska, Washington and even Idaho.

WH: What is a regular day like for you?

LIZ: Well in the wild I would burrow under a little bit of soil and every few days when I was hungry I would go hunt for food. I don't mean to brag but I am a pretty good hunter. So if anyone comes over bring live food so I can hunt again. I like crickets best but I'll also eat freshly shed mealworms, earthworms, caterpillars (e.g., wax worms, silk moth larvae), and pinky mice. With pinkies or wax worms, these can be offered as an occasional treat or to fatten me, but because these food items contain high levels of fat, they should not be used as a steady diet. But pretty much anything like that without a hard shell, shells mess with my digestive system and I don't have hands to tear food out their shell.

WH: That was a good pitch but you never answered the question fully, what is a regular day like in captivity.

LIZ: Sorry, its much the same, I do less hiding, but there is no need for it. I can hang out on the bridge or the resting rock. Sometimes I'll burrow in the plant and if I am too hot I'll go for a swim. Ha ha! I can't swim but the water is just deep enough for me to be submerged and still breathe. Its perfect. For exercise I see how far up the wall I can climb. I don't know I think thats it... you know other than like bathrooms stuff.

WH: What about sex Liz? What are you? Won't you miss breeding?

LIZ: Well breeding occurs after rains that trigger migration to breeding ponds. Males usually arrive at the sites before the females and leave after the females and no I won't miss it. There are two ways to tell what a salamander’s sex is (1) Often, the male has a larger cloaca or (2) Often, the female is larger and/or more plump. In my case the rule about the cloaca holds true but because I may tend to be obese in captivity, a plump body may not always indicate a female. It is best to tell during breeding season and unless it is captive bred, you have no way to tell. A good estimate is that if a salamander is sexually mature, it is at least five years old. Some species are slow growing so they may be as old as 7 to 10 years. You can never be certain. Also salamanders can live a LONG time if cared for correctly. A 20-year-old Liz is not out of the question. I have a quote from the CCDorg website that I think best describes it ‘Make sure your family knows what to do with your newts in case you die before the newts do.’

WH: Well Liz that's all the time we have but you gave me some great information thank you so much.

LIZ: It was my pleasure, thank you. Maybe we'll talk again, until then take'r easy.

WH: For sure, I'll see you later.

I also pulled some information I found interesting off the CCDorg website that I would like to share to end my article. Thanks for reading and enjoy. Long Live Liz!

‘I found a salamander/newt outside. Should I keep it?

Maybe, but probably not. First, you need to identify the species and verify that it is legal to keep that particular species in your state/country. Then you need to make sure you can provide the right foods, habitat, and temperature to keep it alive. Remember that newts and salamanders live a LONG time, so you are taking on a very long-term commitment.

Tiger salamanders are an excellent salamander for the beginning caudate enthusiast as they readily feed upon easily procured food items and may be more forgiving of temperature extremes than some other easily available salamanders (e.g., Cynops sp.). Adding to their popularity, many of these animals recognize their keeper and may beg for food. Caution must be taken to avoid overfeeding and obesity. The personality of these endearing caudates will continue to make them a popular pet for many years to come.’

The Second Chapter In The Life Of Liz

And we now return from that quick commercial break...

The new pet was promptly given more space upon the arrival at home. A cleaned out butter container with a little bit of water would have to do until morning. Unlike most days the morning would come early but before dawn hits the new found friend needed to experience its new surroundings. The amphibian was swiftly taken to a local home to enjoy one of many new events. As the lid open the animal watched a game of football with its new proud owner, a few of Molson's finest and a few local fans.

The night of football with creature was abruptly cut short; those calming clouds of brown turner ferocious and put an end to the CBC broadcast of an exciting game for the team in Green. Although the game was not done the televised service was and so was the Salamanders first night in captivity.

At the crack of daylight, when the sky is bright but not orange, the new found friend had started their day. Company was arriving and it was arriving soon. The company was that of another young girl, a girl with fewer years and quite possibly the same age as the new house pet. The match was sure to be pleasing. It was this day that this new girl would find a new home and a name for our amphibian friend.

With a quick trip to some local pet stores and other stores that just happened to be open the new home was set up. In a plastic reptile tank lay some rocks picked from a parking lot and some colourful pebbles found in most aquariums. The large rock base separated in two with a water route between them. In the water lies oval marbles and a large resting rock. Over top of the resting rock connecting both sides of the land base is a store bought bridge and in one corner some fresh green shrubs.

In the construction of the luxurious reptile home came the name. With battles of turning Salamader into Sal or Sally came Liz. Although the sex of the new pet is unknown and will likely never be known, it has now been feminized by one little girl and named in a shortened form of Lizard.

In the same trip to the pet store food was also purchased. Liz eats one cricket every two days and has found comfort in her new home. With an already full day Liz was left alone to relax and her story continues. To see more of Liz please go to http://www.caudata.org/cc/species/Ambystoma/A_tigrinum.shtml or go to Amber’s house.

The Good, The Bad and The Gnarly....and The Chipmunks

Remember that nice lady who made me see the transformers, well she struck again. This is what the Hobo weekend consisted of.

1. The Good- It's really a question, um... who do you think would win a fight...between a..ah.. Grilled Cheese Sandwich and a Taco?

2. The Bad- Hugh Grant ruined the 80's.

3. The Gnarly- Pixie Acia, This is her, good lookin lady and this is her tongue. It's weirds me out but I can't help but think what it would be like to make out with her. Amber gave me the go ahead, so I'm just I flight away, Pixie I'm coming.

...The Chipmunk-I just learned of this.

Hobo Out!

A Hobo's Tale

Last weekend while this hobo was doing what hobo’s do best, traveling, I came across my story of the summer. Let me paint you a picture.

The stretch of road was long and straight; from the closed down Dafoe junction gas bar to Regina. The night sky was unique. The dark troublesome clouds that lay ahead were out shined by the sun behind. As the clouds grew thicker and the sky filled, the sunset did all that it could turning the thinner clouds brown with a peak of pink where the sun actually laid and on the other side a gradient of dark blue to black.

The light dispersed along the cloud and lit the road with a soft but steady glow. It was this light that allowed me to see the road clearly and to see what my future would hold. From the stretch between Dafoe and Southey I could see things on the road. At first I thought they were sticks or leaves but upon sharper eye tweaks I could see them moving.

My conscious mind told me it was wind. My imagination made me stare harder. Then about 20 miles north of Southey my mind turned vocal. I questioned if anyone else had seen the things on the road and if they had noticed them moving. The response was less that fulfilling to my minds eye. As I convinced the others to watch Southey was not so distant.

For five miles I pointed and yelled, ‘Look! There!’ As the highway enters the town limit the speed drops, the things become more apparent. Then to my delight, another passenger shouts ‘They’re Salamanders!’ Alas my hungry imagination was fed.

Now knowing that my eyes did not deceive me I was relaxed. On the other side a little girl sitting in the passenger seat convinced the driver that a Salamander would make a good pet. So I emptied out a juice bottle and the car pulled over. With a quick flip of the lid one Salamander was about to see a new life in captivity.

To Be Continued...

Hobo Fall

Hello out there in Hobo land, this is your fearless leader Wand. Hobs commin at cha live from the muddy banks of the rail tracks. Due to extreme weather conditions today's hobo blog is brought to by shelter*. That's right your just one lean too away from shelter.

Being that we experienced typhoon weather conditions I thought I'd give y'all a few tips on keeping cool and keeping warm and which one to choose.

The first step is to decide if you are too cold or too warm. The secrete to this is colour. Now if you have even been in a public bathroom there is a tap marked in blue and one in red. This applies to you body as well. If you are blue you are cold, if you are red you are warm your if your colour blind your screwed.

After you have decided which dilemma you suffer your next step is action. If your too warm turn on the Air Conditioning, Ha Ha, I kid, but seriously get naked, jump in Wascana and problem solved. Unfortunately you can't sleep in the lake or you will drown, I recommend finding a shaded area close to the lake and rest there. That thing known as shelter will also create some shade for you.

If you are too cold turn on the Furnace, Ha Ha, Seriously, move closer to the steam engine, they sill use those right??? Cuddle with the neighbor that has the least amount of disease. Wrap yourself in various material you can find and remember layers. Build a fire, dammit your a hobo ingenuity man! And of course think shelter, you just need something to keep the elements off you.

Other note-able scenarios; if you are to wet wear garbage bags, if it is too windy wear garbage bags but remember to wear your clothes underneath still and in case of Tornado's head for low ground or overpasses.

Hobo count: 94

*Shelters may break if made of sticks, ground, mud, coins, hay, abandoned things, and all other pieces of crap you can make a shelter with. Any liabilities lie with the shelter contractor and shelter owner. Product non-refundable.

Hobo Gone Public

So the other day I found my self wondering a strech of highway and I see the most amazing thing.

It was plastered on a van. It was beautiful. Then ironically, when I arrived at my destination I came across HoboMagazine. So it got me thinking, how many other hobo things have gone public. Well here are this hobo's top ten hobo things on the internet.

10. Hobo Jim- the music phenom from Alaska. Business must be good.
#. Hobo Mag- If you look through the mag on the web you get to see some naked chick. That almost put it higher on my list.

M. Hobo Railroad- If I ever venture to New Hampshire I know where I'm going.
6. Hobo Comics- When you need something to do on the road.
JCT.20. Hungry Hobo- Hobo Food. Enough said.

MooseJaw. Hobo Clothing- Show your true Hobo colours.
Tuesday. Hobo Wars- I haven't learned how to play yet but it can only be great.
Hobo Signs- Markings you must know.

1. Hobo.com- The all inclusive site for everything you need to know about hobo's and information of the international Hobo Convention.

Today's Hobo-ism-Do not make washroom where you sleep. Dammit man your a hobo have some self respect, but remember accidents do happen just fix them.

Hobo count:87, Blog:23

Hobo and Counting

On the last Hobo blog there was a very Hobo worthy question, 'How many times has the word hobo been used on this blog?' Very impressed I decided to count the word hobo throughout the blog since it has turned to the Public Acts of Hobo-isms. The current word count, including this blog is 64, 6 have been in the comments and 15 are in this blog alone. These numbers alone are reason enough to celebrate so today's Hobo-ism is how to throw a old fashion hobo party.

Step 1. Parties are for people so invite all of those that sleep in your back alley/rail car/park bench, including crazy lips Jimmy who only speaks in strange stomach grunts. If you have no one else to invite don't worry hobo parties are designed for one.

Step 3. Rob a liqueur store.

Step 8. Remember that bed you made of straw, take a huge shit in it and light it on fire. You can get matches from your local 7 eleven. The poo is so no one stomps it out.

Step 3. Mark your party territory by urinating around your party land claim. If you get some on yourself that's ok, you will blend in with any others who show up...or yourself. If you can a park is the best place for a hobo party as you can scare rabid animals and flash the public for entertainment.

Step Highway 16. Steal some garbage cans, pails or anything that will make noise. Every party needs music and the louder and more annoying the better. Maybe you can hire Good N' Ruined, just tell them they can play with no pants on and you won't have to pay them.

Step @. Avoid Gypsies.

Step C. When the police arrive make like any good hobo and flee the scene, if you want you can stop to watch and laugh as the fuzz stomp out your fire. Make a clean get away, jail cells are to fancy and if you end up there you'll become a repeat offender and addicted to the comfort. Then even though you don't want to you'll pay for your addiction by making love every night to a guy named Bunny in the drunk tank. Love to Bunny for comfort? I think not!

Step I95. Pass out somewhere exposing your genitalia.

Now remember these are only the essentials, you must use your own hobo creativity and add your own special event, activity or party favor (think BBQed park squirrel or something) to make the party your own. With that party on hobo's and I look forward to the use of the word hobo and how many times it get used as it is truly one of the great words in the dictionary.

*hobo numbers may vary due to the fact that hobo's can't count.

The Tracks

Remember when I was addicted to eight ball? Well this time, as hobo I have found myself with tracks. I am feverishly addicted to the scars left behind and by scars I mean memories some good some bad. I guess it was right for me, seems how in my past life I was furiously addicted to the road the railway was the next step.

Partly to you have to respect the tracks, they help form our country and unite it. It was how the west was won. Now our major rail companies are 3 Canadian based CN, CPR and VIA; each with assets in other countries like Europe, USA and Mexico but still bringing the dollar home. Not to mention we have the world’s second longest straight track from Regina to Stoughton.

Life for this hobo is now living on the tracks, no more of this Taylor Field crap with their fancy seating, its to dam hard to lay down. Which brings me to today’s Hobo-ism- When laying down in a train box try to use some hay as bedding. When you have come to a stop you can pick your own in a random Saskie field or you can steal some grain from the grain cars. Enjoy your nap.

Back In Hobo Fashion

First let me note that this here blog is not about fashion but I may post a blog on Hobo Fashion b/c it sounds like a good idea to me. No this here blog is more about the fact that I'm back. In Hobo fashion (pun now intended but not mented) I went on a bit of hiatus. I never did much I just left the radar. Had a few weddings to steal food... I mean attend and went on a little journey to the Border city which is the stage just before you become the Queen city I think. Either way they sure like big orange poles there. I stole a camera on the way and might post some pics of the trip later.

All though I was off the Hobo blog radar I seemed to be consumed by blog in my absence. I posted some comments on some blogs and I seemed to run in to fellow bloggers everywhere. My cousin humorously asked me who the Wandering Hobo was. And my auntie who reads the blogs thought that it sounded a lot like me but concluded that it must have been a friend of mine. I laughed. Then I seen my hobo counterpart at the the fringe festival in S'toon doing what he does best... loosing money by playing terrible versions of good songs on the street. And I also ran into another friend and we discussed the similarities of buying a house compared to stealing a box/garbage can. Anyways I must go, I hear a train a callin...and Oscar wants his dam can back.