Reality is all twisted up.
One of my very favorite things I’ve found recently while spanning time and space across the expanses of the internet is this website that challenges the history of BMX.
Now if you’re worth you weight in Tuff Wheels you no doubt have seen Joe Kid on a Stingray. If not, we maybe can’t be friends anymore.
I don’t care if you fancy yourself a died-in-the-wool roadie, a cross racer, a mountain biker, a fixed gear freestyler or if you don’t really even care about bikes, and only come though here to farm the random links, this movie is a jaw dropping ride through the history of BMX (at least as far as those other than the individual who created the above website are concerned) that will leave you with a huge smile on your face, and an itch to get a bike and go hang out in whatever vacant lot you might have available to you.
However, the newest offering featuring Danny MacAskill may very well have a similar effect.
Danny handles his commute better than I do.
Do you all like the mail bag?
I like the mail bag.
No sooner did I question my relationship with the South Monday do I get this email from Brent;
“You like to weigh in on how I should judge the P.O.S contest?“
As I told Brent, the only advise I could offer would be to judge it with an iron fist.
Rocky came through with a bit of randomness as well;
Pretty sweet shots of Russian gangsters.
I’m partial to this one:
He looks like this dude I met bowling in Minneapolis.
Also, I started my own blog. Liquid Astronaut.
Take care man. Have fun in Vegas.
As for Rocky’s new blurg, visit often, and as far as the depicted individual goes, it’s good to see that he travels with a reservoir tip to prevent any of his grey matter from getting out.
That’s just plain smart.
From Sally I was offered some advice;
“Maybe you can sell a kidney…or your spleen to get back this year.”
Singlespeed Cyclocross World Championships 2008 from bce on Vimeo.
Considering that I barfed both my kidneys and my spleen out at this event last year, I obviously no longer have those to sell, but I’ve got an awful lot of semen and blood, so I’ll see what I can do. I would like very much to attend this year’s festivities again, as last year was an epic hoot, and might I recommend whatever soft tissue or fluid you have of your own to pawn, you do so to see yourselves there as well.
Over the course of the weekend, I began renewed correspondences with an individual whom I have only met through my previous blog work. It seems as though at some point in June he suffered an accident that resulted in profound damage to his brain, and all functions that it is responsible for. Out of respect to him as well as his situation I am choosing not to go into much detail on the matter other than to say that one of our own has a long road of recovery ahead of him, and I personally feel very fortunate and honored that despite it all, he still is able to tune in here and at least experience from the sidelines that our community in the Black Market is still kicking, and will most assuredly wait up for him during his recovery.
He is a good guy with a very strong will, and can use all of the positive vibes he can get, so think good thoughts for our compatriot.
I look forward to seeing his comments, and insight back under the posts here with the other regulars where they belong.
From friends in Montana I was notified about an up coming season closing epic that while it’s too late to register for, if you were to ask sweetly, I suspect the powers that be might see their way to letting you join in on;
I was originally sent a pdf file containing all of the info, but being a crafty individual that I am, I changed the format, cropped it and will present the pertinent info for you now;
This ride is a celebration of the cycling days of old when road racing in Europe meant racing on unpaved dirt roads over mountain passes, in sometimes horrific conditions. The racers rode steel framed bikes that were built as much for toughness as for speed. They drank wine and smoked Gitanes to quell their suffering. “Nutrition” was real food, like cheese, salami, and a baguette. “Support” meant you ability to deal with adversity and the tire you slung over your shoulders. This ride borrows from the spirit of “L’ Elorica”, a hard ride held each year in Tuscany.
L’Eroica means “The Heros”.
So there you have it. Dust off your hairnets, sew ups, and aluminum water bottles and get on the good foot. if you really are serious about making it through for this, contact Reed Gregerson- firstname.lastname@example.org.
They needed RSVPs by the 20th of August, so considering the fact that you’re getting your info from me, we’re all right on time.
I got another heads up for an event that’s looming in Wisconsin from Gomez;
For any pertinent information you might need, alls you gotta do is go here.
With a poster that right, you know you can’t go wrong.
This past weekend saw the return of the annual Giro Di San Francisco to its city streets. This momentarily gave me pause, as this race marks the 13th anniversary of San Francisco’s CMWC, and just as many years since I found myself waiting in line for the bathroom at the Zietgiest wearing nothing but a messenger bag, arm warmers, Sidi shoes and a cowboy hat.
My race that weekend was not alot unlike my career as a messenger was as a whole. I busted my ass, didn’t plan my runs very wisely, and in the end was left with not much to show for my efforts.
I was also ridiculously drunk for an overwhelming majority of event’s stay, so I suppose a parallel could be drawn there as well.
From The Most Factory Blog I got this transmission;
“I think these ladies are down with the black market.”
I can only hope for this to be true.
I see Wonder Bread bags peeking up from back there, which generally means deliciousness is on the horizon and I don’t have a single problem with that.
Besides, eating fried bologna served by a skinny person is somewhat akin to getting tattooed by someone with crappy work on their own body. You just shouldn’t do it.
There is my lesson for the day.
With that, I wish you a happy hump day.
Get to humping.
Darn, fried bologna, BMX, Russian gangsters and the wonderful Mr MacAskill in one post – as the ad for crap beer goes, quite possibly the best blog post in the world!
yow, thanks for the linkage and the primer on BMX history. my friend told me ‘primer’ means learnin’
Adam’s Gnome Art kicks fuggin’ ass!
If Danny increased his gear inches he could get to work faster than 4:21. I’m just sayin’.
Wow, fried baloney sammiches. That’s a heapin’ helpin’ of Buffalo cuisinological awesomeness on a couple slices of whitebread, right there – providing they come with mayo and American cheese.
Sadly, we don’t hold Buffalo cuisine in the esteem it deserves. The Most Holy Wingage is now sullied by the likes of TGI Fridays, KFC and worse, with Buffalo Nuggets, Buffalo Chicken Breast Sandwiches, and Buffalo Chips. Meanwhile, soggy, greasy, badly spiced facsimiles of what Buffalo Wings are supposed to be – chicken wings that taste like the guy making them once knew a guy who ate at Sal’s Birdland but who heard about proper wings one time – these meaty little greasy horrors are served throughout the land, wherever frat boys, softball players and office workers meet up for cheap eats and discount beers.
Yet the best part of Buffalo Cuisine, a real delicacy, remains unknown to those who are… um… unknowing of it. I’m speaking of Beef on Weck. It’s a delicacy that can throw down with no-shit high quality regional food, like Carolina or KC Barbecue, Spiedies, Arizona pit beef, or Texas chili. Dunk the Kimmelweck roll in the jus. Slice it, throw in the beef, drizzle on some more jus, add some fresh horseradish, maybe some brown mustard and onions, then eat, washing it down with a Labatts. It’s as near to heaven as any workin’ man would care to get.
Yet here we are, with Buffalo known almost exclusively for a badly prostituted version of Frank & Theresa’s original wings, and also for baloney sammiches which are admittedly pretty nice, but generally about as pedestrian as a food can get without being comprised of actual worn shoe leather.
I weep for you people who have not sampled the Weck. I really do. That, or it’s just the horseradish making me tear up.
Damn, Jim.. I mean damn.
The big Velveeta box seats bring back memories!
I’ve long since accepted the Dutch invented BMX since those shots surfaced a couple years ago. Well, independent evolution…I don’t think Breithaupt et al were aping the Dutch BMX scene (though they were aping Euro motocrossers).
Much more disturbing are the pictures of bandanna-d pre-pubescent Russkie kids calling themselves Blood’z and posing with silenced Makarovs. Ewww. Once again, Russians take their obvious fascination/infatuation with the lamest elements of Western culture and fuck it all up. They really ought to take a page from the Japanese book of culture thievery and give it some attention to detail. Whether it’s rockabilly, lowriders, street bikes…when the Japanese steal it, it comes out better.
Obviously, the best Russian gangster pic is the one titled “my maney” where the guy is flashing 2000 rubles …. i.e. about 64 US bucks. I guess I could be big pimping in former USSR.
Listen to Jim about the Beef on Weck. If life puts you in Buffalo then make lemonade and eat some beef on weck sandwiches. Them bastards need to be eaten at Schwabl’s. And skip one Labatt’s and have their birch beer they have on tap, it makes rootbeer look stupid. If I had stuck to birch beer I could tell you how to find that place, but I think it’s in West Seneca.
I would give all of $ MY MANEY $ for Russian youth to have appropriated BMX culture instead of giant cartoon muppet hoodies and guns. Thanks MTV.
is that a six gnome fest, or the sixth GnomeFest? cuz it matters.
I wouldn’t front on them ballin a$$ niggaz.
Mad props — RUSSIA!!
I’m glad to see Jim mention a Blue in the mix there.
You guys are worried about the goddamn bologna?! What about the obese Progressive Insurance lady serving them with the “Gimme One!!!” t-shirt? I’d be makin’ my own special kind of sangwich with her…
Why is MacAskil doing a four minute commercial for a temp agency? As much as his riding is awesome, there is an unsavory wholesomeness to the guy. He’s apparently pro-work, his bike company has the morally uplifting name “Inspired” and the music in his videos has a creepy, 4AD sound that’s just degrees away from Anglican choral music. I guess we can’t all be lazy Odinists–though there’s a good chance we can all be dutiful onanists.
Ah yes single speed world champs, great times! mud blood and corpse paint…brutal!
Ahh, Loudass… the Spicy McHaggis of the bicycling world.
Hey..I raced the CMWC in ’96.
I somehow made it to the final round and won a bag with the CMWC logo and all that.
Anyway…very potent bike experience for me at the time. The Critical Mass was like nothing I’d ever seen.
See ya in Vegas.
Joe Kid on a Stingray…AWESOME. I can’t wait to see Stompin’ Stu. I mostly wanna see Scot Breithaupt talk. That shit blows my mind…
It’s hump day? OH SHI-
In the words of the mighty Russian Darklord, Ivan Drago “I must break you”
So can anybody link Dutch BMX to SoCal BMX? Did some Dutch guy move there and get his kids on modified Stingrays?
I’ll miss HTATBL, but this blog is gnargnar.
I love that last picture. Fried Bologna being served by those who look like they may have ate a few in their day.