That is of course except for when they do.
As I’ve said before, Cobra Commander has been tirelessly working behind the scenes to make some wizardry happen that will ensure a seamlessly functional website for all of us to enjoy. I’m pretty sure you understand, working in the virtual world isn’t like stringing a new set of shifter cables, changing the oil in a car or even gluing together a broken chair. From my perspective, none of it is hands on, and to that end seems a bit like voodoo, so when things on the back end of my site go pear shaped, I can only sit wide eyed and rub my forehead in frustration. So far all of the forehead rubbing hasn’t solved a single issue and only made my hair line retreat that much further.
So I would like to present a standing apology to the readers and more over to my committed advertisers and say that we are only just tripping over ourselves occasionally in the hope that eventually this site will be a sparkling beacon of technological wonderment that will soon work each and every time we ask it to without complaints.
Since I’ve been spending fair amount of time away from the naked lady box and sending the aforementioned Commander a regular barrage of panicked texts, I have received a wide array of stimulating notifications from far and wide which I’ll begin to sort through now.
First up from Jessica, I got an amazing moment caught during this past weekend’s Lemurian Classic mountain bike race that was shot by Nick;
Jessica aslo had a bit of information that she wanted included with the visual;
“I like long walks on the beach, NPR, and scary movies with subtitles? (and despite that fact that this pic shows me being wooed by a small South American woman, I prefer large men to do the courting.
After parting ways, the other woman in the shot apparently was heard grumbling something about the fact that her dance partner smells like strawberries.
One that most definitely does not smell of strawberries is our dear friend Captain Dave who just returned from putting the ‘ass’ in assignment in Belglandia reporting on grown men in tap shoes and underpants;
Near Liege, at Manoir des Lebioles”
That Dave has a rough life, and I can only assume this shot was taken somewhere between 7 and 8 in the morning.
And speaking of partaking of the imbibeables, Mr. Gill sent a shot that he obviously has been sitting on, just waiting for the perfect opportunity for which to present it;
“For the life of me, I cannot figure out the order in which to place these
1 pink bike with frilly frills
3 kegs of Budweiser (check closeup of middle keg)
1976 Chevy truck, flairside
(photo taken 10/10/09 on 41st Ave.)”
What kills me is that this is but a stone’s throw from my house and I wasn’t invited.
As we continue on this path, George emailed me to let us know he’s still square on his own path of self destruction;
“Happy Friday brohan! Just sampled some tasty waves of dirt during a snowstorm! G”
Those who would assume bikes and beer don’t go together like bacon and bacon are crazy. After all, like a wise man once said “I’ve been riding bikes for forever, and drinking beer since I heard about it”.. Or something like that.
Now, just because I’m still high from last week’s preformance, for the once again, I present you with The Bronx;
I can’t remember if I’ve mentioned this previously, but a recent interview I read with them asked ‘how long do you usually play for?” to which they answered “Usually about 45 minutes or until our drummer throws up.”
Now, as a tip of the cap towards other folks working with this same media, I’ve recently come across a couple gems that I would like to repost here, the first being the following image found here, that was actually taken originally from here;
(When items are passed around like this, its kind of like blog herpies… Or perhaps, Blerpies, which sounds way more fun and way less burny.)
Then this teaser for a documentary covering a medium that is near and dear to my heart, also taken from The Green Laker;
The fact of the matter is it took me a long time to finally compromise and begin buying CDs, and I am probably the last person on earth to own an iPod, but as my old friend Heavy Metal Cookiehead once pointed out, by being an anti-technology curmudgeon, I was simply disallowing an entire world of music into my collection which was never going to be produced on record. Quite simply, I was cutting my nose off to spite my face. Eventually I made that leap, and now I have probably an equal amount of music in a digital medium as I do on vinyl.
In the end, I am a died-in-the-wool vinyl snob, and though my Anthropophobia as well as my Agoraphobia have both tipped the scales to prevent me from ever returning to the record store, I still pick the occasional slab up on the internet and I look forward to a time that my stereo, records, and various work spaces all occupy the same general area so that I can once again bathe in the record’s warm hum.
Yessir. I be loving me some records.
Records makes me think of music which of course makes me thing of a party, and that is exactly what Alan and his band of Communists (it’s a co-op after all. Of course they’re Communists) are fixing to throw this weekend in the B’ham;
As long as my mind is jumping from one topic to the next and back again, I suppose now would be a good time to post a picture of the ever infamous ‘Dizzydrome’ that last I heard was located at the top secret compound of Ground Up Bicycles;
Just on the DIY ethics alone, I’m of the opinion that this little beast is even a touch cooler than the Red Bull Minidrome deal that everyone’s all bonering over;
And even though that thing is pretty sweet as well, it still has nothing on the human powered roller coaster, which due to my swiss cheese brain, I can’t remember if I previously posted or not.
Now in some final news of the absurd, the nation wide Urban Assault Ride is in full swing again, the next one of which is in Berkeley, California this weekend;
I have been slammed six ways till Wednesday but am going to attempt to pull out the stops and make it to this. The folks behind the annual debacle have their eyes on the prize, and the events never seem to disappoint.
.. Unless you are any number of self important Front Range messengers, but I suppose enough time has passed that this particular hatchet has been buried.
Alright kiddos, I’ve stirred the pot enough here. It is now that I will close the curtain on today’s installment of AHTBM. It’s a shabby curtain with holes in it, and it kinda smalls like pee, but it’s the only one I have.
Anything it takes to keep the gremlins at bay.