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Summit Up

Good morning and welcome to Summit Up, the world’s only daily column guzzling milk spiked with deadly snake venom for publicity.

Here at the corporate suites, we’re always getting attention-grabbing junk mail pitching garbage ranging from government conspiracies to Nigerian gold mines.

But today we were charmed by the effort to market a spiritual book about peace. The message subject: “Author drinks cobra venom to explore the hereafter.”

They say this person died and came back to life a few minutes later.

If we were able to pull off such a feat, we would no doubt be wringing every cent out of the experience.

It’s inspiring: a shot at immortality and untold wealth.

Perhaps we could survive a night jogging nude across Dillon Reservoir from Farmer’s Korner to Summit Cove.

Then we could write about how somewhere along the trip, when our brain started to freeze, a large giraffe poked its head through the ice, blocking our path.

The talking beast demanded we cut every bit of animal flesh out of our diet and live solely on lentils and rice.

We’d awaken on a stretcher with our fingers stuck together and inklings of divine purpose surging through our consciousness.

The vision would play repeatedly through our memory until ready to be laid out in a hardcover guide toward expanding consciousness and self improvement.

We’d hire a publicist to take our experience and exaggerate a bit, say, to make it a mystical journey.

Like after we received the lecture from the giraffe, we were lifted by a powerful gust of wind to heaven.

These winged angels wrapped us in a velvet coat, and we entered a big golden castle. Then this beam of bright light opened and gave us a special message to be revealed in a compact disc accompanying the book.

And if the newspapers didn’t buy it, we could shoot an infomercial for late-night television. We’re talking the wee morning hours when peoples’ wearied minds become malleable.

It would be a fine opportunity for weaseling our way into America’s insomniacs’ subconsciousness and tinkering with them ” with the ultimate goal of getting them to buy our book for a mere $39.95 plus shipping and handling.


It’s easy to fall for these things. As you may recall, we bought a set of commemorative President Obama gold-stenciled dollar bills a few days after the historic inauguration.

Well get this: The ad said $9.95 plus shipping and handling, but our credit card statement said we paid $19.95.

Unless they were hand-delivered from Jakarta, our special collector’s items didn’t cost $10 to ship and handle.

But that’s the nature of stuff you order off the television late at night. It’s always too good to be true.

We’ll certainly be keeping an eye out for identity theft because these thieves do have our credit-card number and expiration date.

This fact has caused us to cower from aggressively protesting the price hike ” as well as stay up late in front of the TV. We had a close call the other night, when the ad popped up for one of those sensual Denver party lines.

Fortunately our cellular telephone was out of reach.


In other news, our pal Dave Millette is still stranded in Frisco, hoping some Boston Red Sox fans will show some love.

He’s looking for donations toward his journey across America and the Jimmy Fund for the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute.

Donations may be made by visiting

Millette plans to be at Downstairs at Eric’s in Breckenridge on Monday, where he anticipates watching the Red Sox season open against the Tampa Bay Rays.


It’s Sunday and we’re out risking our lives for a spiritual experience powerful enough to support early retirement, a Cessna and a second home in the Bahamas.

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