What’s in a phrase?
When engaging in the process of assembling new posts from day to day, I might start out with a phrase, or a single image and build from there. Due to a varied array of topics and correspondences from which to choose, the first thing that jumped into my gray matter were the words ‘random array’. Upon plugging that into an image search, I came across the following photo of an assortment of Juggalos;
Photo by Chris Victorio.
Those of you who might not be aware of the curiousness that are the Juggalos, you’re not missing out on anything.
Speaking of birth control, TinaB sent me a link to an article that had me throwing up in my boots;
Arybaby got ‘they own kind of pacifier.
I’m not much on legal retribution, but I suspect that if were to happen to me, I might not be so quick to turn the other cheek and see to it that I eventually owned that particular hotel.
Shortly after my acquisition, I would burn the place down.
In other news, Murphy Mack, the man behind the Two Wheeled Locust races and Goldsprints of every color has got some doings occurring in conjunction with the upcoming Interbike trade show extravaganza;
Of course you will have to make some sort of decision between this event and the the other thing happening that night. The former promises glory, the latter promises nothing.
Funny thing about the trade show, is every year shortly after registration, I get inundated with emails notifying me of bike light clinics, to product launches from companies who have reinvented the fender and everything in between.
I have nothing against companies using the Interbike database to try and spread their word, except for everything. I suppose some folks in my position might find this information interesting, but I think it’s a pain in the ass. Case in point, I got two emails from a fellow regarding folding bikes and clothing recently, and I asked him to please unsubscribe me from their list.
He responded in kind;
“You’re not subscribed, you’re on the Interbike media registration list. Do you write about bike and bike parts, gear, clothing, etc?”
To which I replied “Yeah, but I don’t really need the mass emails before the show. I was hoping to avoid that this year.”
Instead of walking away quietly, he then wrote;
“Do you write about cycling apparel? Electrolyte replacement drinks? Bike saddles?”
Oh my god man. What are we doing here? Yes I do. Indian headdresses, beer and only the ones I sniff. I simply asked for you to leave me alone. Are you trying to convince me of something? My patience was being tested, so I simply told him that I do write about those things but generally just the ones I’ve already bought.
After that there was radio silence, so I can either assume that he got the hint, or simply looked at the site and immediately noticed that day’s post title and opted to go bother someone else.
Nobody messes with my tight sack.
Digging into the mail bag from almost a month ago, I got this email from Jay;
My buddy Kenny is making the journey to raise awareness for fat kids in school eating shitty lunches and sitting on their asses all day. He’s also raising some cash for cancer research…his dad was taken way too early by the bitch.
He left Hermosa Pier, CA a few days ago and is now in Parker AZ. His landing spot is Kitty Hawk Pier, NC.
Just spoke to him after a day going uphill, into the wind, with semi’s blowing by. He’s in the pool drinking vodka tonics.
Kenny is not your tap shoes, tight shorts kina guy. Far removed from “our” thing but is true to the core and someone you want in your foxhole.
I’m shocked to even see him wearing a helmet and proper sneakers, albeit toe clips. It’s an effing beach cruiser.
How abouts throwing up some luv on the site?“
Kenny obviously has a better relationship with his knees than I do, though there’s no telling how long that will last. I have a candle lit during his trip for him though, and I wish him the best of luck.
Around the same time that I got that from Jay, Christian emailed me concerning what some might consider a brush with greatness;
“Jag Panzer. Being a former Coloradan, you might recognize the name, with them originally hailing from Security/Widefield, CO. I have an interesting story about the lead singer, Harry “The Tyrant” Conklin. In my former days as a store manager for a big grocery chain, my donut fryer, Harry Conklin (yes, one in the same) comes to me and says he needs 3 weeks off in July but at this point I don’t know he’s a singer in a band, much less the mighty Jag Panzer. I say I don’t think so, busy time of the year, no vacation coming to him, blah, blah, blah, laying down the typical corporate prick line.
He proceeds to tell me that he is in a band and they are headlining a 100,000+ person stadium gig in Germany. Since I don’t know of his alter ego, I think yeah, right, but it is such a good story, and no one has ever “lied” to me with such creativity, so I say go for it. He comes back with pictures and the works from his shows and I nearly shit myself. Pictures of him (and the band) all leathered, metal studded, and denimed up, getting more Germans wound up than David Hasslehoff and Jan Ullrich combined.
They can’t make it here, so he works in the bakery. Kinda like Batman, huh?
Oh yeah, fairly sure the video was filmed on top of one of many Colorado peaks (Pikes, perhaps?)”
All hail the heavy metal vibrato.
At some dirty event or another in Minneapolis West, Murph from Showers Pass was able to snap a quick shot of one who might be considered by some to be the lieutenant Don of the bicycle industry mafia as a whole, covered up in some new darkness;
He may look kind, but that cold, steely gaze is the last thing many people see before the big sleep.
While we’re on the topic of cold and steely gazes, photographer extraordinaire, (as well as one of nearly 700 people in all of Florida who regularly visit this site) Bob Croslin sent this quick shot that inspires me to make a bumper sticker that says “my other car is this truck”.
“Spotted in North Florida.”;
Ahh, a redneck with a taste for the whimsical.
Back to the bike side of things (because sometimes I write about such things.. Like cycling apparel, electrolyte replacement drinks and bike saddles), Marin Bicycles super honch Yuri, got in touch concerning an expedition he is currently embroiled in with none other than Bobo The Clown;
“Somewhat akin to Bill and Ted’s, I give you Austin and Yuri’s Bay Area Ridge Trail Adventure;
If you feel it appropriate, any help in getting the word out there about what we are doing would be greatly appreciated.
Keep spewing the gospel!
There was an interesting article in the Marin Independent Journal on this feat as well, but strangely it has since been taken down. I would liked to have included that link in here simply for you to read the barrage of comments from various shades of trail nazi, leading me to believe that there might be a move afoot to rename Marin ‘The Land of the Falsely Entitled’.
*Update* Yuri got in touch to let me know the article had been moved to here.
Good on you Yuri and Bobo. Way to walk the walk. I had intended to meet up with them for a leg of it, but as the saying goes, the road to Hell is paved with dead car batteries. We will have to wait to get some sort of report or another from one or both of them before we truly know what transpired while they were away.
In closing, Ray sent me a clip of how a real man makes a salad.
One man’s random array of various vegetable things is another man’s random array of bad assery.
It is with that, that I bid you a fondu.
Macho Salad was the name of my Prog Metal band in high school. Oddly enough, we couldn’t make it in the states or anywhere. Stupid Picky Germans
Spam is a noble food, because nothing else picks a man out of the gutter quicker at 3:00 AM and .128 Blood Alcohol Content than the delightful admixture of random meat parts, lightly fried, on some toasted white bread with a touch of mustard, and yes, perhaps with some Dale’s Pale Ale as a chaser. Anybody else picks you up out of the gutter in that condition, you’d call them friend*, not “Hey guy whose name also means hated unwanted email marketing materials.” So ease up and if we have to stick to a food-sounding moniker, let’s try to find a better, less-popular and better deserved name for the junk email, like “tripe” or “offal” or perhaps “fried kidney with onions.” Anything’s better than insulting my old friend Spam.
*Um, except for police officers. You’d call them “sir” or “Officer,” I believe.
Upon commencing viewing this video I sorta expected Herr Macho to “dress” the salad with something else, especially after the table humping. I know: what a dirty mind! This was such a wholesome piece of salad soft porn.
I have a sinking feeling that my wife might see me as the macho salad guy even when I’m not humping the furniture.
Thanks for getting me hooked…on Plants v. Zombies.