Chances are good that we will emerge from the other end with nothing but an amazing story, but there’s always a small chance that we’re gonna get pooped straight into Deliverance and from there, there might be no return. I don’t know how much I’m at liberty to say, but involved in it are like, six or seven or maybe eight people, Mission Workshop, maybe possibly Cielo, a bunch of straps, dehydrated food, expansive expanses and the most half baked plan since renowned pastry chef, Jacquy Pfeiffer’s infamous ‘not-quite-baked cake’ debacle of ’95.
So with that in mind, I’d better make today’s post count.
Kicking things off, it was through Angela I learned of a person who moved into an apartment with a trap door and an awesome set of secret tunnels and corridors.
I would burn some sage and white candles and whatever the hell else you do to cleanse a space’s energy, and then I would clean it out and prepare it as a guest room for people I didn’t really care for.
From Sarah I come to find this clip about the history of throwing shoes over power lines;
So there you go…
You weren’t expecting to learn anything today, were you?
From Crandog of FBM I got his newest and shiniest video featuring one Eric Holladay;
While all of the FBM videos are nearly better than the last in the toe curling department, I was able to grab a screen shot of the precise moment, my bad hole puckered so tightly my beard cramped;
After experiencing even a portion of such a thing, I would have sold my bike, and retreated to the safety of my basement where I would while away my remaining years building model cars.
With Joan Jett playing loudly in the background, naturally.
But that’s why Eric’s a pro, and I remain scared of my own shadow.
And sometimes locking yourself in your basement is not necessarily a bad thing, especially when out there in the cold, cruel world you’ve got cops busily blaming cyclists for getting hit by cars.
It’s reassuring to see that the SFPD has followed the lead set by New York in this regard.
Wear a skirt, get raped, take the blame.
Ride a bike, get hit, it’s the same.
My basement is looking more and more welcoming all the time.
But then when occasionally peering out into the sunlight I find that there are like minded folks fighting the good fight, and I feel strength in those numbers.
Case in point? Fuck You Congress;
I’m starting to feel better already.
And just as the fog starts to clear I get a double dose of goodness from Jeremy from Maximo Supremo residents Cedar Cycling came through with the new and improved women’s Standard Jersey;
Here’s the unfiltered poops on the women’s jersey – we started completely the fuck over rather than taking the men’s and trying to shrink it. We did multiple fit sessions with a number of women to nail out the fit across body types. Everyone working on the project (other than Neil & me) were women. In other words, we took it seriously, for serious.
We worked on it from just about the time we started work on the second version of the mens, but execution took much longer because of all the extra legwork we put in for fit and design.
The goal was to turn out a woman’s jersey that was 100% equal to the mens, and we succeeded in that. Everyone who bought one has loved the shit out of it.
As I’ve posted here before, I’m quite fond of what it is the Cedar kids do, and I look forward to seeing how the new Standard works out for the dames among us.
Now before I take my leave of you, I have to make yet another call to arms for the friendliest man in the world, Mr. Kachusha Munkanta of Chuey Brand.
No doubt you remember when he was beaten unconscious and arrested by San Francisco police, after which resulted in them filing felony assault charges against him.
It seems as though after this long wait, the SFPD have finally begun ramping up their efforts to finally follow through with this nonsense, and the resources we’d amassed for him through last year’s fund raising efforts as well as our Soil Saloon race have been exhausted. So as we circle the wagons one more time for our friend in need, we’re preparing for a fight to the finish.
Last year was pretty sweet;
But secondly, Jenny (the crusader for stolen bikes everywhere) has just set up a fund raising site to continue to offset his legal costs.
My math skills are about the worst in the world, but am I correct in concluding that if a thousand people contributed ten dollars each, we’d have ten thousand dollars?
Ten dollars? That’s maybe a burrito and a Coke.
We have to see our way to offering his some assistance, if for no other reason than if he goes to prison, I’m gonna have a really hard time finding somebody else to make my hats;
But on the real and stuff- We need to do what it takes to help our brother Chuey out, because that’s a good bye I’m not willing to say.