(*Please note- so as to not seem callous, I penned today’s post before the earthquake in Japan had happened. I want to extend my support and concern for my friends there. It makes all efforts not related, seem totally insignificant.* That said, I suppose we’ll get on with the show…)
Having not necessarily successfully resolved my Wednesday’s conundrum, I have yet to flee to Aruba, but rather stayed put right here in Amerikuh, where among all of our other issues, race mixing is apparently still not welcome;
Prepare yourself for a lesson about the difference between Fundamentalist Muslims and Fundamentalist Christians;
It’s videos like that that make me want to wrap up in old glory and listen to some Nudge.
Which reminds me… Not so very long ago I was coming back from some place where I had tied a bit of a buzz on, and I began developing a pretty strong hankering for something chocolatey. I swung into my friendly neighborhood store where I was met by an escalating confrontation between a patron of the red neck variety, and the proprietor of said shop who at the time had pulled out a bat. “I would love to see you hit me.. I would love it if you hit me with that” young sir sarcastically repeated.
I barged past him, apologized for the interruption and then began discussing aloud how delicious my candy bar was about to be. Incredulous to my desire, and indifferent to my presence, young sir then exclaimed “go back to Arabia!”
After choking back the urge to punch the offender in the face hole from which his rhetoric just spewed, I turned and plainly said that until he could find Arabia on a map, he had no business telling people to go there. I concluded with something about having us having a problem if he didn’t leave.
Luckily for everyone involved, he turned around and shuffled out to his scooter where he presumably buzzed away to a sweet party where there were a lot of flat billed baseball caps, and lifted trucks.
It’s nice to see that right here in the new year of 2011, which I should also note is the longest mankind has been on the planet, we have finally reached a pinnacle of understanding and acceptance of one another..
In news relating to any of that not in the very least, Andy from Fyxyomacallit got in touch with a dose of news regarding my homie Dan’s new digs;
“The new studio is off it’s head;
hope you are well
I like that second shot ’cause Dan looks like a shrimpy fourteen year old.
Anyway, if you would like to see Andy’s full set of shots, alls you gotta do is go here.
In news of domestic throw downs and their makers, A Likable Douchebag got in touch with a heads up for just such an event;
“Fodder for your fans, and your invited too if you’ve got an extra 800 cash for plane fare. Better times I’d a gotten you here just to see the expression on your face when you glimpsed the awesome of this Southern City. Of course it would be through beer goggles and possibly iron bars but like I said, it’s the South.
So it’s all set, I figured out a route that should keep us from having to dismount our bikes. Unless you need to run for some reason. About that (reason) I think we might actually have 2 lawyers on hand in case something goes south and since we will be in South-side Richmond for part of the ride that could come in quite handy. Also word has it an MD could make the ride but it’s his night off and he don’t make house calls. So that and the fact our “council” might be drunk you’re basically on your own which means; bring bail money along with your insurance card and show up Friday April 1st around 6pm for the pregame. Ride starts whenever we feel like it or when it gets dark, whichever comes first. Email email@example.com for location.
Oh yeah, I’ve got a free head light and tail light for the first 10 douchebag riders that don’t bring any lights. They suck so you’re better bringing your own but…better than nothing. FOOLS.”
Any event that instructs you to bring bail money has got to be good.
From my very own backyard, I have some information for anyone who enjoys a mountain bike styled athletic pursuit. As it is with most places, trail access is an on going battle. In this area, we have a strip of land that the opposition would rather have filled with gacked out junkies than dirt worshipping cyclists. To me, this seems rather silly, but then again, I generally spend most of my time residing in the company of the silent minority.
It seems as though the MBOSC have set fourth a fundraiser in which you can both help financially, as well as enter to win a brand new Santa Cruz Bicycles brand double boinger.
I have entered with a donation that was surely more than I can afford in hopes that I win that bike, because you can bet if I do, I will immediately sell it, take the bus to the location in question and score some heroin with my windfall.
That is what I like to refer to as ‘the circle of life’.
If you would like to learn a bit more info on the issue, you can do so here.
As long as we’re still on the bike tip for the time being, back at the beginning of February Raleigh Sally sent me the following, thereby proving once and for all that I have low friends in high places;
From the blog of that Canadian guy.”
Sally looks good so I don’t have to.
Lastly, it’s with great sorrow that I finally had to box the Sh*tb*ike up, (I assume that when writing about the bike in question, any time you need to use an ‘i’ it has to be replaced with an asterisk.) and send the old girl home. While I was sad to see her go, my waining dental insurance was not, and despite how hard I tried to break both her spirit as well as her body, she stood fast with resolve;
Then again, if Adam Craig, Gregory Minnaar, Cameron McCaul, Greg Randolph, and all of the others who had their turn on her before I did couldn’t do her in, I don’t suppose I stood a chance.
Hell, even the trebuchet was defeated;
I stand as one of the few and proud who was unable to ride her to her maker. A full report on our affair will be available for consumption in a future issue of BIKE Magazine, so should you be interested, keep your eyes peeled in that direction.
Also, for those who may have missed the March issue of Bike, they have called out any and all who support the Sh*tb*ke’s inclusion into the ‘journalism’ category at the Mountain Bike Hall Of Fame to write 250 words of your ‘tightest prose’ and send it to firstname.lastname@example.org.
As the newest Sh*tb*ke article states, in your appeal you must provide the name and address of our nominee, which is;
236 Avenida Fabricante, Suite 201
San Clemente, Ca. 92627
The deadline for entrees is April 15th, so while you have a little time to burn on this, you don’t have much, so get while the getting’s good.
While embracing varying differences might be a challenge, the integration of the Sh*tb*ike into the hallowed walls of the Mountain Bike Hall Of Fame is something even the most staunch racist Orange County douchebag could get behind.