As we get to the bottom of the barrel, and are scraping it with our gigantic silver spoon, our minds are as pure as our bodies are tainted.
Image and corresponding story via The Bunnyhawk.
“What’s the story behind the opening image?” You might be asking yourself, and thankfully there is an article summing the whole sorted saga up.
Portland East don’t take no guff from anybody.
And in response to Bunnyhawk sending this link to me, I concluded simply;
“Poor guy. He dug his own hole. Granted, it’s only three feet deep, but it is still well over his head.”
If he wanted to stop being treated like a dick, I suspect that maybe he would stop acting like one.
Now that we got that bit of unpleasantness out of the way, let’s continue.
A long, long time ago, Captain Dave sent me this observation;
“I didn’t know you were a Jew, or that you played drums.”
I’m only Jewish on Passover, and the only drums I play are air.
Slappy from the Stomparillaz Brigade sent me this short and sweet one;
“Re: Who wouldn’t?”
I told him that for next Halloween, he could wear that and his Rock Racing ‘Here To Stay’ shirt and be dressed as Captain Ironic.
In regards to Friday’s post and the email I got from Josh about his wee one’s major Tacchino melt down, the primary conspirator to the debacle, Jim got in touch to illuminate the finer details;
It was a hell of a race day. >500 registered, 8 kegs of beer and several cases sold, major swag given out, and hundreds given out in Turkey Slap Cash Primes – Slap The Turkey, Win $50. (Seriously. You had to slap a guy standing by the beer/food/band pavilion, in a turkey suit, as you rode by and you’d win 50).
(And) pictures – mostly from professional photogs – here.
Great day man. Can’t thank you enough for the support. Pimped the bejeeezus out of you at the start of the big 4 races (C, B masters, B, and A masters) and in the pre- and post-event pub. Hopefully you get something of a marketing boost out of it. I’m gassed – wiped out. Great course, gave away 30 pounds in sausage primes to mid-pack riders, tons of swag to podiums, huuuge fields, and we had to stop the masters A when a riderless horse entered the course. In the words of our Emcee, Bill Schieken (who operates CXhairs blog) – “There’s a horse on the course… I think he’s in 10th!”
How well did it go over?
Well enough that we’ve been asked to move the date to late September, where we’ll kick off the MABRA series. That will mean ~ 650 racers, 15 kegs of beer, and… holy fuck. It is going to kill me. You should make it a date, come out and join us, and see if you can wreck it for everybody, just as I’m endeavoring to wreck it for everybody.
That’s the kind of event I am proud to have an association with, even if it’s from a distance, and I look forward to a day that I might not only attend in spirit, but in body as well.
Patrick came though with a request of sorts, concerning his co-op’s newest attempt at raising funds by dropping pants;
We’d emailed you this back when you were at thee old bummer life. Anyways, our co-op has gone and made a calendar of us in all our fleshy glory for the second year in a row. Each month pairs one or two members with reasons for why we love riding. It’s a great, NSFW way to support the co-op, but really, we’re mostly out to have fun;
I’ve attached an image. Calendars are available at www.bikesaviours(dot)org . If you could post something, great. If not, no biggie. We love you anyway!
Being that I, like David Cross’ character on ‘Arrested Development’, am a nevernude, I can’t quite wrap my mind around the calendar’s premise, but it’s for a good cause so I suspect my walls won’t be without one for long.
Now then, it is utterly my pleasure to bring this next email to your attention.
From Hewhowillremainunnamed, I got the following heads up about our beloved Cat C Vanilla Thrower;
“Greetings from Oakland,
I thought you might appreciate these photos of the Speedvagen hucker. He and his fast looking but slow as fuck crew showed up to Soil Saloon on Halloween. This was pre-race;
Photo by Nerd Lover.
Keep up the good work.
Also, the menacing Downzig on the jerseys has done wonders to keep roadies off my wheel heading up Tunnel Road. I appreciate it.”
Then another hecannotbenamed forwarded me this shot from the race in question;
Photo by Nick.
Could it be that we have actually found the offender? The discovery of this photo is like one of Big Foot, and FDR in drag rolled into one.
Now of course what I would like even more is an actual photo of the actual shameful occurrence, but barring that, I have compiled an assortment of media for you to scroll though repeatedly that I feel offers the same sense of satisfaction;
Now I understand there exists an outside chance that, despite my every effort to confirm this to be the actual crybaby, it could possibly be a case of mistaken identity. If that is in fact the situation, then I just threw my every shred of journalistic integrity out the window, but considering I only had a few quarter shreds to begin with, I don’t have far to fall.
That said, if this is the crybaby, then may he enjoy his roast here today.
Two things I have absolutely no tolerance for in the world of bicycle riding and the competitive athletic pursuits therein, are bullies and crybabies, (unless said crybabies are three years old, then they get a pass) and as long as there is a breath in my lungs and mobility in my two typing fingers, individuals who are motivated by a false sense of importance in an event such as this, be it the participants or the promoters, that is ultimately achieved at the expense of fellow competitors, spectators and/or their own dignity, will be shamed relentlessly and without mercy.
Then, as luck would have it, no sooner had I typed the period on that sentence did I get this heads up from Eric;
“clearly the reason I managed not to DNF in single b’s was the aerodynamic kit;
griffith park cyclonaut race, day 2, los angeles – land of the mystery missile.
and in case you haven’t been sent this already, apparently there was a bit of angry alpha man energy in the elite race. these guys were jousting for, i dunno, 87th place on lap one in a field of 100+, probably 3 minutes down on treefarm and adam craig from the gun when midway thru a 4 man squeeze out of one of the off-camber turns, someone got his panties all twisted….
See what happens when they don’t allow beer primes?
As the curtain begins to fall on Vanilla Thrower’s odyssey, and now the plight of Fightin’ Irish George Barthel, I hang my head in embarrassment for them both, and hope that one day they will learn to act their age.
Do you like apples? How about them apples?
Finally, as I stated in regard to Danzig, and which can very easily be applied to not only the poor sports in our ilk, but every day life in general, if they wanted to stop being treated like dicks, all they’d have to do is stop acting like them.