Piss Clear: Black Rock City's favorite alternative newspaper

We love this town! - 1998
by Adrian Roberts

Okay, so weāve been out here on the playa for a few days now and we here at Piss Clear have got just one question: What genius decided that Black Rock City should be located in a fucking wind tunnel? Hello? Didnāt anyone realize that our fair city was going to be plopped right down in the middle of the narrowest section of the Black Rock Desert, allowing winds to speed up as they blow through town? Duh!

The good olā days
Oh yes, how we long for the days when Black Rock City wasnāt even a city at all. It was just a small town ÷ a hamlet, really ÷ located way the hell out in the middle of the playa. If you were off in your driving by just a few degrees, you could end up totally lost. It was kind of scary... but kind of cool.

But I need to stop right now. I hate it when Burning Man veterans pine for the old days like so many cranky old codgers. Because the fact remains that what has been lost in intimacy has been more than made up for in spectacle. I mean, back then there wasnāt anywhere near the sheer volume of cool artwork and fabulous theme camps and unbridled bursting-at-the-seams creativity that exists this year, thatās for sure. I mean, itās just massive, completely overwhelming.

So overwhelming that I donāt even want to leave our RV. Well, okay, thatās not really true. I just donāt want to leave the RV until around 4 p.m. or so.

Yes, after seven years at Burning Man, Iāve finally figured it out: Itās fucking hot during the day! Fuck that! So now I just lounge around all day, trying to catch up on what little sleep I can, and avoiding sunlight like the plague. This way, I can save all my energy for the night. Because letās face it: nighttime is when this town really comes alive.

Nighttime is the right time
Not unlike Las Vegas, Black Rock City is an ugly pit during the day, and a dazzling jewel at night. Especially from a distance.

Try this tonight: Ride your bike way out onto the open playa ÷ I mean, really really far out, all the way to the trash fence. Then turn around. Gorgeous, isnāt it? That long strip of colored lights that is Black Rock City. Every year I do this, and every year it becomes one of my favorite Burning Man moments ÷ and this year, itās even better. Why? No moon. Just beautiful, twinkling Black Rock City ÷ a city that we helped build ÷ floating in an inky black sea of glittery stars. Like a fabulous space station on the edge of the galaxy. A party planet in the midst of the heavens. Simply breathtaking. Wow...

Okay, then the Ecstacy wears off and itās time to make sure no one has stolen my bike. And if there was ever a time to get your bike stolen, tomorrow night ÷ Burn Night ÷ is it.

Itās yahoo time
This is the time when certain dark elements begin to creep into Black Rock City... the weekend warriors, the curiosity-seekers, the troublemakers, the Bridge-and-Tunnel crowd, the dudes who just want to party, the ÷ dare I say it? ÷ the locals. In short, the yahoos who just donāt get it. Expect to see a lot more beer cans and trash over the next two days. Itās not going to be pretty.

But then again, who can blame them for showing up? I mean, if you heard about this crazy party in the middle of the desert where strange naked people run around blowing stuff up, wouldnāt you go? I mean, youāre here now, arenāt you? So stop your complaining.

Tell everyone that Burning Man sucks!
If you really donāt want a bunch of morons coming to Burning Man, then we all ÷ collectively ÷ need to start shutting the fuck up about how cool Burning Man really is! Stop talking about Burning Man all the time. Stop spreading the word. If anyone asks, tell them it sucks. Tell them it was really lame this year, a total waste of money, and that you canāt imagine why anyone would ever want to go. Make stuff up. Lie. Just do whatever you can to get people to stop coming here!

Donāt worry, the smart ones will figure it out. As for everyone else, well, thereās always Disneyland, right? Yeah, I thought so...

Anyway, with that said, we hope you enjoy this ÷ the last Piss Clear issue of the millennium. Woo-hoo! And if you happen to see a cute, orange-and-blue-haired, femmed-out gender-morph riding around on a fuzzy orange 10-speed... well by all means, stop me and say hi! Until next year...