I feel the need to reiterate a point.. While its true, I have been having a bit of a pity party on behalf of my hands, Its really with tongue planted at least partially in cheek. I mean, sure its a kind of a drag.. Especially when I get a call from Skinny Bee and he tells me of the amazing summer hes had and all of the fantastic hijinx (off road, and otherwise) that hes gotten into, but when I put things into perspective, Im well aware that I really dont have it so bad.
In fact, in an email I recently received from The Queen B in which she detailed a recent velodrome slam, not alot unlike that of our friend The Masi Guy, both of which left our heros battered, beaten and bruised.
That got me to thinking further about the barrage of injuries that not only have affected me over the course of the last year, but those that a good number of people around me have had as well, and while on a road ride last night it dawned on me that in comparison, anyone who is able to still throw a leg over a bike and get the hell out of dodge, in whatever capacity, is still very lucky.
Along with that, I realized that just because Im on the road all of the time doesnt mean that there arent a slew of amazing experiences to be had just the same. For example, I took a paved spin up the hill to meet up with the Wednesday ride last evening and ran into Mr. Gill, who was wearing a U.S. Postal skin suit. Unfortunately for you, I was in such awe, that I didnt think of snapping a shot of it until it was too late. Among other pressing topics, we discussed the semantics of wether or not he was poured, packed or stuffed into said skinsuit, until I eventually bid farewell, and headed back down the road.
I noted that while the photographic opportunities werent exactly what I was used to, Id snap a few just the same.
For example, heres a photo of my best friend in the whole world. He likes bicycles too;
Eventually we saw this sign, but we were all like, 'nuts to that.'
Luckily we came across the rarely photographed mating habitat for the 'whitis trashamongus', but sadly saw no specimens;
We also saw a sleeping deer...
It was noted that we cast a shadow debunking the popular theory that we have no soul;
Once back in civilization, we saw our favorite truck in the world. Usually there is a surf board neatly tucked in the back. Surfers love the environment.
Then upon our arrival home, this is what was waiting for us;
Much like Ice Cube, we had a good day.
You know, our boy Newt out in Chicago likes the road bikes as well. Not that this has anything to do with it, but he sent an email containing this which almost makes sense.
So all of that aside, I also have a jam packed inbox, which I would like to begin to regurgitate on you now.
Are you ready?
I dont care.
Tim writes;
"I love to ride my bike. There’s always something new, some new story to tell my wife when I get home, like being chased home by a thunderstorm through the Flint Hills, where I’m literally the tallest object within several miles in any direction, a perfect lighting rod, keeping pace exactly with the leading edge of hail and wind. Or seeing the shadows of a dozen vultures circling overhead in the 100 degree heat when they realize that I’ve just sucked down the last drop of water in my stash and still have 10 miles yet to go to the nearest drink. Or the screaming hawk that swoops down over my head as I race toward his catch of road kill opossum, or coon, or rabbit. (They always come at me from behind and really scare the shit out of me!) Honestly, Mr. Hawk, I have no interest in your lunch. Then there’s the pheasant, startled by my rapid descent down a hill and decides to escape certain doom by flying out of the ditch through my front wheel. Then there are larger creatures, like the escaped horse trotting down the middle of the road, which I have learned from experience to give a wide berth while passing, lest they freak out and kick you in the head. (I actually caught an escaped horse in downtown Topeka, once. I enticed it to munch on some tall grass I’d pulled up from the sidewalk, grabbed its mane and walked it a block and a half to the animal control office at the police station. The look on their faces when they opened the door!!!!!! Look what I caught!!!) And then most recently, a feral pig that chased me about 100 yards up a hill this past Saturday. It occurred to me, after my adrenaline came down from overdrive, that I’d just imagined it, a black pig, snorting and squealing just like you’d expect an angry pig to snort and squeal, leaping from the underbrush on the side of the road, and giving a very good chase up the road………..A dog? Miniature horse? What the hell was that? But the existence of said pig is well known in that part of the county, and it was confirmed by a co-worker who’d just moved out there and also was chased by the pig on her horse. I honestly didn’t realize that pigs can run faster than dogs! Now I do!
Yes, what brave new world that has such creatures in it! A bicycle in the countryside, freaking out the local residents. I love to ride my bike."
and then concluded that with a second, shorter email;
"A fellow biker who’s much faster and stronger than me just reminded me that it’s thought that the newly discovered mountain lions in these parts take care of most of the feral pigs.
I feel so much better now.
tp"
Its always safe to remember that no matter what anyone says, man is most definitely not at the top of the food chain.
Got this one from my friend Becca Schepps, an all out design and copy-writing dynamo. It will get you fired up on some nostalgia and design and the direction of it in this country for sure, from a design stand point anyway. Oh yeah here is her new bitchen fixie to boot... Oh again for one more thing, she also packs heat."
Regards,
Peter"
Firstly, youll need to imagine a picture of a young woman shooting a handgun for that 'packs heat' reference. Im just too lazy to include it.
Secondly, in regards to the video clip, there are long standing theories of which I know Ive mentioned here before, that state children who are raised around the cookie cutter strip malls and milk toast housing tracts have a substantially lower I.Q. than those who are raised in an environment consisting of visual variation. The next time you pass by a big box store or Best Buy or whatever, take note that its places like those that are helping to make people stupid.
Jocke sent us a blast from the past;
"Found this in a drawer this morning.
It has beer and froth stains on it but no instructions
on how to clean it, it has no labels nothing.
Dryclean or just plain 30c wash?
Please help.
Jocke / Sweden"
Jocke, the beer and froth stains came with the tie, man...
El Gato sent us this;
"Stevil,
Prescribed treatment for adrenaline deficit disorder sufferers.
El Gato"
Ill be damned if it didnt work for me.
Twice.
I used to have a housemate who had a collection of gigantic snakes, one of which was a Burmese Python that was was like, 16 feet long. They were amazing animals and I loved everything about living with them, with the exception of the smell.
Anyway, at one point Catboxxx, (who if you dont know, is quite petite) was staying over on her and GenOs way through town once and she said she didnt sleep so well on account of because she was sure she was going to be eaten in the night.
As lovely as those big animals were, they certainly werent chick magnets, (and I wont even begin to go into the bags of rats and rabbits that were in the freezer.)
CFO had a star sighting;
"Brosef,
Iam 99.666% sure this is Ben Harper with his custom Pegoretti of the Gita site...I went there to see how I may want to build mine up (over the next 25 years) and saw this in the owners section..."
The dude can kill it on a guitar, and he like the nice bikes. He just moved up a notch in my book.
"I know that this is just shameless begging from my ego to be on your completely rad radar but I really do NOT know a better way to avoid the bummer life better than this. I did it today and almost forgot that I had to go to work tomorrow and be a mortician.
- Capt. Fishbeard"
Boise... Are you paying attention?
One of our Canadian compatriots, Darcy writes;
"Hey Stevil,
It is BMX but has a great soundtrack if you are sick of bike videos with so-cal punk for music. Plus. this guy rides backwards so effortlessly it makes my stomach churn with jealousy.
I am hoping to get a Folsom from your Swobo dealer in Saskatoon when I am visiting there next week so I can practice(failing at) riding backwards on my morning commutes.
--Darcy
PS
You really need a dealer in Alberta, specifically Calgary.
Bruce is my new best hero, and I thank you for sending that on.
And now for Darcy and all of our Canadian friends, I offer this shirt that The Skipper recently turned me on to;
Maybe they should also have a print on the back that says "America. The Canadian hats egomaniacal and self important head."
Tyler also wrote in with a call to arms;
"Hello,
Discovery Channel is looking for individuals that want to join an epic journey through Alaska. Howtoavoidabummerlife.com has a great readership and I was hoping you could let them know of our search. Here is the info for the Alaska Adventurer.
Please email me if you have any questions. Thank you.
Tyler
GotCast.com"
Sadly, Tyler doesnt realize that the only people who read this are El Corpo and my mom.
Only the punk wrote in with some amazing shots from a recent trip to the big rodeo;
"Well, i did it, it took a few hours!Italian pro Pantani did it on smack in about 40 mins or something, i did it on a Torque Gel and a packet of Grany(sic) bars lofi style! It was well worth all the sweat and sunburn though cause the descent is a total blast, also i pissed off quite a few roadies by hanging onto their wheels and then passing them HA!
Bourg D'Oisans in the valley below near to the top.....
My weapon of choice.....
Hairpin 18 near the bottom, dedicated to Frank Shleck, obviously didn't impress the recumbent rider having a snooze on the wall. All the race day photos were taken on this corner.....
The Joaquim Agostinho memorial.....
Hairpin 2 and i'm nearly there this one is dedicated to Marco Pantani.....
The finish line!.....
Ifin you have a hankering to peep more of the photos from the trip, just click here.
One thing no one should ever fforget to bring along when traveling abroad is a suitcase like this one Otis sent;
"Yo Stevil,
As I have not yet gotten around to taking snaps of my newly re-painted and restored 1992 MB-1, which I can safely say will make you drool, I offer this drool-inducing collection of pork delights.
Think you can get it past homeland security?
Love from the NW,
Otis"
Man, if you tried to get that through security at the airport, I believe its safe to say youd get locked away and the key would never be seen again.
You wanna know something thats sucks? This is something that sucks.
But not nearly as much as this;
In response to that, our very own JMac writes;
"I think at this point, Norway is just fucking with us to see what we’ll say is rad."
Would you believe that I have about one million more miles of this stuff to sort through, but Ill save that for later. I have a feeling that there were a couple of alley cat flyers that Im neglecting to post, Like this one for example-
-which is going to make me look dickish, but Ive yet to figure out how to color code my emails so Im basically just going though my inbox by feel.
Wait... I found a flyer for a race that hasnt happened yet. I feel like Im getting back in the game;
More info about this here throw down can be found here.
Ok, the plug has got to be pulled here. The weekend is almost upon us which is good due to the fact that Im barely keeping my head above water.
Like the Backstreet Boys once so eloquently stated, 'hang tough.'
Or was that 'hangin' tough'?
Ive already elaborated on that much. This means Im no longer able to give you a weekly break down of the Wednesday Night Ride hijinx.
(though since Ive been absent, it sounds like the hijinx have kinda dropped off a bit), and because I really cant bring myself to describe to you the blow by blow of my hours on the road bike-
(...There was a corner, and then some birds flew over me. Then I climbed for a while, and then there was another corner, and some cars almost hit me, and then I passed by a mail box, and then several hours later I came home...), Im going to bring some more music out, this time however will just exclusively be of the 7" variety.
Though for those of you who arent really feeling the record geeking, sit tight, because as soon as Im back in the game, well get back on point with the heart rate monitors, and discussing every painful detail of our respective training schedules just like old times.
Sweet.
Meow then, (Super Troopers reference #1) did you know before the 80s ruined artists like ZZ Top, and Bob Seger that they totally kicked ass? Its true. Here is a 7" record that aside from this one specifically, Ive only seen one other time in my life. 2+2=? is a Vietnam war protest song that is as relevant today as it was 40 years ago.
Plus Hurl has tried to steal it from me so you know its good.
"Big Blacks signature buzz saw guitar work head splitting Roland drum machine bla bla bla..."
They cover Cheap Trick and Kraftwerk. What else needs to be said?
Long before Burningman ruined everything, there was San Diegos Crash Worship. If you never had the opportunity to see this band, Youtube them just to get a vague idea, and then imagine the most intense acid trip you could have while falling through pulse altering percussion over a waterfall of fire, sweat, smoke, explosions and Sprite and thats almost.. almost... a glimpse into the idea of one of their shows.
The Dwarves first 7" on Sub Pop contains two songs that all together clock in at about a minute, plus that shaggy blond guy in the front row is an old acquaintance named Curtis, though I havent seen him in many years. Punk rock was on the slab with a toe tag until The Dwarves came along.
A Danzig 7" on Sub Pop? Obviously an anonymous bootlegger has got a sense of humor.
Godheadsilo loved little bikes and big noise, and that was enough for me. Two young men, one on drums and one on (bass) guitar that played such a monster sound that a week after a show your hair would still hurt. They poured the foundation for future two man power houses such as Death from Above 1979 and Big Business, but were doing table tops simultaneously, which makes them just a little bit radder.
Providence Rhode Islands Glazed Baby circa 1993. A power trio with an emphasis on power had the chops to leave you with a limp, though unfortunately had the poor taste to include a painting done by yours truly back when I was still in art school and knew everything about everything.
Except how to paint.
This Infested single on Mans Ruin Records had two songs from their full length that was on the jukebox at the Drift Inn bar. I knew every song on the album, which tells you two things. I played the CD alot, and I spent a retarded amount of time at that bar. Anyway, I never found the full length elsewhere, nor did I ever discover any specifics about the band until many years later when I became friends with Danny B and after a round about series of discussions concerning music, told me that his wife Kyrsten played bass for them. Now not only do I have one copy of the full length, but I have two.
I dont remember what this record by Magic Bone sounds like, but the cover was done by that guy who drew the comic book 'Plastic Forks' and was just too much for me to pass up. It came out on a label from Atlanta called Worry Bird Disk, and everything they released had the coolest covers ever, so I bought them generally just based on the visual aesthetics.
Tom Price from Gas Huffer, Martin Bland from Lubricated Goat, Mark Arm and Steve Turner from Mudhoney and Tim Kerr from Poison 13 round out this rock and roll super group.
This is like The Damn Yankees in terms of pure unadulterated star power, except they didnt suck.
Another Awesome Worry Bird disk cover. The only thing I know about this band is Jim Kimball from Mule played drums and I was never sure of what speed I was supposed to play it on, cause either way, the vocalist sounded as if they had lungs and lungs of helium.
Nirvanas first 7". You know everything there is to know about Nirvana. What you probably dont know is that some day Im going to sell this and then with the dough I make, Im gonna buy a giant bag of cocaine and then get on that space shuttle trip that Lance Bass went on and go fly around in the stars blown out of my skull.
Olivelawn was the band that former pro skateboarder Neil Blender once played bass in. O was also in the band and when they broke up, they ended up becoming Fluf.
By sound and by name.
Olivelawn ruled, and no one will ever know it.
Rocket From The Crypt were seven inch record making machines. 'Boy Chucker' came with RFTC pogs, but since I dont know how to play pogs, Im a total poseur.
My friend Jamie was originally from my home town of Evergreen Colorado, but as a young lad moved to San Diego, and lucky for me he did, because while growing up there he procured the only two RFTC 7" records that I did not have, this being one of them but both of which he traded me for a bicycle.
Rocket also released a 5" record, but I dont know what it sounds like because by the time the needle on my record player travels that far to the center of the turn table, it rejects it and returns to the cradle.
Now thats punk rock.
The Superbees were an amazing rock and roll band, pure and simple, though my very favorite thing about them was the singer looked exactly like Ben Stiller in 'Something about Mary' in the beginning when he zipped up his goods in Cameron Diaz's bathroom.
Franks and beans! Franks and beans!
The Scud Mountain Boys haunting melodies will reduce the most hardened and burly lumberjack to tears.
If I was forced to choose between the entire Urge Overkill discography and this Sub Pop singles club release, Id choose the latter. Thats how much I like it.
Plus it reminds me of how Id like to be able to dress one day.
Chances are pretty good that youll never see this Unsane record in the flesh. New Yorks purveyors of gruesome, bottom heavy and concussive hatred scoop out a heaping helping that can only be described as what it might sound like if a fleet of garbage trucks crashed through the 'Flava of Love' house.
Panties and gold teeth everywhere.
And well round this collection out with a 7" record by a band called Vitapup. This is one of my all time favorite records- 7" or otherwise, but when I finally got the opportunity to see them play live, they were utterly horrible.
At least Ill always have the record though.
Well, once again, Ive let my fingers do the walking, and the collection do the talking but at this late hour, Im bored, and if Im bored, you must be in absolute agony. Like I said, Im knee deep in physical therapy, Ive doubled up on the bar tape on my drop bar bikes and am in the process of swapping out the grips on a couple of my dirt bikes, so Im gonna be like, good as sort of new before we know it and then we can once again discuss the virtues of riding in no direction in particular with a backpack full of beer, some weeping Poison Oak blisters on our legs and get away from all of this extracurricular nonsense.
What Matts wearing here is a beernet made by the very capable hands of Cory, formerly of Dank messenger bags fame. Now it should be noted that until I saw this, I felt whole. My life was one of peace and relative fulfillment, however now, there is a hole in my heart the size of.. well... the size of the beernet. So it is with a bowed head and clasped hands that I implore you all, the dedicated and steadfast readers of How To Avoid The Bummer Life, if you can help me procure an item such as this, I will do what I can short of breaking the law to make it worth your while.
First up and to kick Monday off right, Id like to include the newest addition to our ever growing wall of shame that last week was provided to us by Meghan.
You all might remember this small slice of the fashion world from my recent trip to Minneapolis.
Now if youre anything like me, youre wondering why Meghan just didnt put those shorts out of their misery, and set them on fire like any reasonable person might have done, but luckily for the wall, she didnt and until she returns to her senses, on the wall they will safely stay.
At least until another occasion comes along at which I can proudly don them again...
Anyhow- did everyone have a suitably relaxing weekend vacation? Life in these parts was just fine. As Id mentioned on Friday, we attempted to unload some of our wares in a parking lot sale. I shirked duty big time and went on a bike ride, but eventually fell into the parking lot to find Erin holding the fort down, and selling what previously might have thought to have been unsellable.
Thats why shes the sales maven, and not.. say, the sales jar-of-pickles.
The really cool part of the sale is that we still had back stock from the old days, and in a phone conversation with El Corpo Friday afternoon, he said we could use some of the dough generated by the sale to procure airsoft guns for lunch time battles. There was only one condition however and that was that we get him one as well.
"No problem" I said. "Ill get you one of these, while The Skipper and I will both be getting one of these."
Or maybe, one of these;
Our lunch breaks are going to be absolute blood baths.
When including April, our incredibly understanding human resources person in on our plan, we asked her if we could get a safety glasses dispenser by the front door for any hapless visitors, which, (shaking her head in dismay) she immediately agreed would be a good idea.
Check out this list. Each of those bikes represent one broken heart. Mine included.
Goodbye Retrotec.... I hardly knew you.
In other news, I got an email from old school one speed hero, Robert Ives in which he regaled us with an experience he recently had while on his ride home;
"On my ride home today I saw a tweeker.... shocking I know.. whacking the shit out of his front wheel with a broken broom handle while riding it down the the street. No sooner than the thought "that doesn't seem like a good idea" raced through my mind, the stick caught and tossed him over the bars into a ball faster than I have ever seen a bike endo- so fuckin' hard that the front wheel came off the ground about a foot when it locked up. Completely undaunted, he picked up his bike and started riding down the street again whacking his front wheel with the now shorter broomstick.
Moral: life is beautiful, even when its 100 degrees. I love Sacramento..."
If it was, Id imagine that given the opportunity, he might have put the hammer down and whooped up on Robert for the preme, just for old times sake.
JWG wrote in;
"I saw this the other day when I was drinking on my day off. I almost got backed into and risked life and limb to get this for you. Signs of the SUV apocalypse."
Yeah, thats alright, but as I told John, if the plate had said '6664U', I would most assuredly have crapped a ninja.
Weve had a couple other random sightings that have been sent in recently for our edification. The first being from Conrad;
Ill bet that guy really got behind the whole 'freedom frys' thing from a few years ago.
God bless Amerikuh indeed, Captain Douchebag.
The second random sighting comes in the form of an email from Sean;
"Stevil - thought you might like this one.
So I'm riding along this morning on my inbound commute, enjoying the views along the Animas River Trail in Durango, CO (Pic 1).
We are currently in a beautiful weather pattern here - early season monsoonal activity - trails are October-tacky - road-riding is sublime....I cross the bridge to where my office awaits and I see this (pic 2).
I gather from the evidence he drove to the adjacent parking lot and lugged his gear out on to the trail to get some work in. Now I hate to bag on anyone who is avoiding the....couch - but isn't this like bringing sand to the beach?
Sean M."
"Bringing sand to the beach"? Dammit Sean, Im the one who is supposed to come up with the funny lines like that.
However, this does vaguely remind me of a fellow I used to work with. Now it should be understood that Im fairly tolerant of just about anybody, and especially if I have to work in a close proximity with them, Ill make concessions for their lameness until the cows come home, but this guy in particular, I absolutely loathed. Before he was eventually 'invited to quit', Id completely given up on all aspects of maintaining a relationship with him aside from the regular heckling I would dish out.
He was hands down the most ignorant, yet astonishingly arrogant individual Ive ever met in my life. It was his first job in the bike industry, and though he had no clue how any aspect of the industry worked, because he had a helmet mirror, and baggy lycra tights, he was utterly certain that he had it all figured out and would ultimately reinvent the wheel, despite the several hundred years of collective experience those around him whom he regularly disagreed with had.
Anyway, one sunny day he got busted in his full kit, pulling his bike from his vehicle a few blocks from work in an attempt to appear as though he rode in, like any self respecting person might.
You can be sure that he was never allowed to forget it either.
For those who might care, Jeff forwarded on this KEXP blog featuring that band who has gotten all kinds of glowing press on The Bummer Life lately.
Oh yeah, and even though it has nothing to do with the rock and/or roll, or driving your bike to work, lest any of ye forget, the NACCC is right around the corner.
This weekend I was discussing what prevented me from making it to last years, and though I couldnt remember, the bruises that I obtained from kicking myself from doing so are still visible.
Dont make the same mistake I did.
Heres a story that makes a suitable companion for the piece I posted last week about the barbeque sauce.
Lick a cop- go to jail, proving perhaps that the snozberries really do taste like snozberries.
And now finally, in regards to this weeks header photo, Ben from The Alt writes;
"Stevil,
This isn't exactly avoiding the bummer life, but I am in the process of launching a new bike company called Handsome Cycles. The first model being The Handsome Devil.
Here is a link to some of our photos, that I thought you might dig. Also we will be at interbike somewhere, with a give away that I know you will appreciate."
Damn. Just as I feel like Im getting on top of my bike collection, another one comes down the pipe that I would happily include.
It looks like Ill once again have to go against my better judgement and make the trip to Vegas this year.
Oh, as a footnote, ifin any of yall are still searching round for Pentabike socks, all you have to do is go right here.
Brown and blue is how we do...
Thats all weve got this time around. Like clockwork, Mondays reared its ugly head, but if we dont look at it in the eye, itll ignore us and be gone before we know it.
One mid-week party, and The Bummer Life production schedule goes all haywire.
Some weeks my life is all training rides, work, sleep and protein shakes, yet sometimes they get flipped on their ear and everything takes a back seat to bocce ball and drinking my face off, though not necessarily in that order.
Id not experienced the joys of bocce ball before, and I found that I was quite fond of it, though perhaps my favorite part was the fact that there were smaller, lighter 'kids balls' that we learned on, and then eventually graduated to the heavier 'adult balls'. There was no shortage of jokes about this fact, again proving that my sense of humor hasnt developed one iota since I was 13.
Oh, there were also some wings in there somewhere too, but I was only reminded of that the next day when experiencing the down side of drinking gallons of crappy beer, the consumption of which was only matched by the intake of spicy food.
And for those of you who had expressed concern for my well being after being told that I couldnt drink, I was actually busted several times at the party by my doctor, each time in an even more compromised position then the last, until fate found me in front of the house unable to recall how a quick release worked.
At some point the good doctor patted me on the head and told me that it was 'all good', which ultimately gave me the green light to totally over do it.
Anyway, from all of your friends and enemies at Swobo, happy 17th birthday (again) Complayna.
Nate got ahold of us to say that his 'The Way Bobby Sees It' DVD got destroyed during shipping, and that hed also recently been tangled up in a hit and run, which left him battered and bruised, but when I expressed sympathy for his ordeal, he simply responded with this;
Elmes sent in some shots of a couple of the Clifbar Two Mile Challenge crew getting, as my old school chum from Boston might say, 'wicked crafty' with a Swobox.
Obviously riding a Swobo bike hasnt yet had an adverse effect of their I.Q.
If necessity truly is the mother of invention, then when youve spent as much time on the road as the Two Mile Challenge team have, delirium is inventions wet nurse.
Bless you both for using your noodles, and congratulations for being the very first to ever offer up a Swobo bike box creation for The Bummer Life. Just for that, email me at stevil@swobo.com and give me the address of whatever motel youre staying at next, and Ill get a couple of our organic cotton t-shirts out for you..
That way the box can maintain its function as laundry mover/sleeping quarters, and the t-shirt can be worn in a myriad of ways- our favorite of which being modeled here by our own Skipper.
Ok, in regards to the list of records I posted on Tuesday, many folks pointed out glaring omissions. I concluded that post by saying that it was a severely incomplete list. Yep, The Refused, The Beastie Boys, Metallica, Jon Spencer, Mastadon, Public Enemy, The Black Sheep, Urge Overkill, Rocket From The Crypt, Uncle Tupelo, The Fluid, Mudhoney, Cat Stevens, Kyuss, Fudge Tunnel, Ben Harper, Pantera, And yes, absolutely Squirrel Bait... For one to say that they would be able to narrow all of that down to just a few would be to say that you only have a finite number of moods, which of course is untrue.
I find that its far easier to pick a favorite food or color then something as complex as music.
However, upon completing the list, and scanning all of those covers and then finding the other covers that wouldnt fit on my scanner elsewhere on the interweb, the byproduct of the exercise was that I took three hours out of my day and reflected very exclusively on something I love dearly.
Its true- I left out a bunch, but when all was said and done, I was left with a feeling of quiet contentment, and that didnt suck at all.
Evan caught up with us about something I love, and something I dont love;
"Stevil,
Thanks for the ups on the site. I got a rad $6.66 tip the other day, I'm waiting on a pic to be emailed to me...
On a sadder note, I ran across these pics tonight, didn't know if you'd seen them. They're beautiful but heartbreaking...
peace
evan
I hadnt seen those, and it did my heart good to see a picture of our old friend Richie in among them all.
R.I.P. Atip, indeed.
Hey, ifin you find yourself in or around the great city of Denver this weekend, dont forget that Urban Assault Ride is about to come crashing down around your ears.
Weve dropped another bomb of Swobo goodness on the organizers of the event, so why not get out there and swoop on some of it? You know if I was there, I certainly would.
"First - I made a group ride living hell for myself by soloing off the front and going all out to try to play keepaway for nearly a half hour on Saturday. Put five minutes into the group, but destroyed my legs,
could barely turn the pedals. After the regroup, we headed up the long false flat/hill finish, and when I went to sprint, I could only turn a steady 666 watts. I nearly fell off the bike laughing. Yep, when your legs feel like hell at the end of a hard ride, it's because THEY ARE HELL ITSELF!
More importantly - check out how food prices in this damn Bush economy are impacting a couple poor people. It's sad, really... The pictures tell the story.
All the best,
Jim"
Brutal. Really, really brutal.
Now in the standard schizophrenic fashion I jump from one topic to the next, heres an email from Monk;
"Is there anymore disturbing feeling then sitting on a warm public toilet seat. It only conjures up images of the horrifying events that must have just transpired? Lord, have mercy on our blackened souls.
Always diligent in bummer life avoidance,
Monk"
Thanks for that Monk, youve really helped kick Friday off right.
Wanna peep a shot of the new Swobo intern?
Weve got nothing but the utmost confidence in her, but Ill be damned if she thinks Im gonna let her keep my glasses. I cant see a thing without them.
Tyler wrote in with a heads up;
"Hey, Stevil, just figured I'd give you a little heads up on an MTV thing that was shot in my town. Lots o' Swobo logos, bro.
...and I stumbled across this photo I thought you might be stoked on:
Yep, those would be interwoven bacon slices for use as insulation between bun and burger.
Tyler"
Thats deliciously horrifying.
And speaking of bacon, as adamant as Ive been about boycotting this years Tour, last evening I was pried out of my funk with an invite to Yafro and Devons house for some home cooked food and a viewing of stage 17 which was projected on a movie screen in their backyard.
The bummer lifes got nothin' on me.
I will leave you with this bit of sweet news to ponder over your weekends from Tobie;
Ill bet his parents are very proud.
Happy Friday everybody. Well catch you on the flip flop.
Oh- by the way, this Saturday the 26th, Santa Cruz Bicycles is having a garage sale that theyve been threatening to throw for several years, and are unloading a whole crap ton of goods. You might not be familiar with that particular unit of measure, but its a big one to be sure.
Anyway, Erin the sales maven and I will be piggy backing on the bash and will have a slightly smaller crap ton of Swobo goods on sale as well, so if youre in the neighborhood, swing on by and get in on the deals.
Favorite things come in all shapes and sizes, but some days theyre round and 7 to 12 inches wide.
Theres nothing so soothing as the warm tones emitted from a vinyl record, for example. Growing up, I spent hours pouring through my dads record collection. He had everything from Herb Albert and the Tijuana Brass to Iron Butterfly and just about everything in between. From a young age I was immediately drawn to the oil-slick-in-a-puddle visual quality that the LPs had and was entranced by the fact that all of those sounds could be contained in the endless spiral of the grooves. Eventually I began to amass my own collection, which sadly was interrupted by the digital revolution and the bane of my existence- the CD, or as Steve Albini once referred to it..'the rich mans 8 track'.
Eventually I had to embrace the annoying little silver disks, as titles were increasingly unavailable on the wax, but luckily for me, there was a small group of determined audiophiles committed to maintaining the vinyl LPs existence. Still, I knew I was settling on only owning half of the music I wanted to, and eventually procured a CD player, and much later, an ipod...
My purest brethren most assuredly groaning in dissaproval.
Anyhow, along the way Ive amassed a fairly broad collection of music that I love as if it were written especially for me. What follows, (as if you care,) is a list ala John Cusack in 'High Fidelity' of the best (or at least my favorite) records I have in my collection..
-The Afghan Whigs 'Up In It'
A beautifully agonizing album by Cincinnati's favorite sons, possibly only second to their 'Uptown Avondale' EP on which they pay tribute to Freda Payne, The Supremes, Percy Sledge and Al green. Awesome.
-The Black Keys 'Thick Freakness'
Two white boys playing the hell out of some dirty blues. Fuzzed out guitars, soulfully guttural vocals and a hard hitting snare and cymbal happy drummer that will remind you why youre glad you have ears. Its the only album Ive bought, and immediately purchased a second for my dad.
-Mule 'Wrung' EP
Three men playing the kind of soul wrenching sorrow that youd expect to be born while living life riding the rails and cooking leather boots over an open fire.
-Power Station 'self titled LP'
The 80s supergroup featuring Tony Thompson on percussion. What can I say? Im a sucker for the drums.
-Drive like Jehu 'self titled LP'
Big sounds from San Diego weaseled their way into my heart and burrowed their way to its core. If youre at all familiar with the work of Rick Froberg and John Reis, then in my humble opinion, this is the culmination of all that was great from the two of them. Artistic, angular, powerful, emotive and pissed all at the same time.
-Jesus Christ Superstar
Andrew Lloyd Webbers seminal masterpiece. The power of '39 Lashes', (later brilliantly covered by The Cows) is undeniably as moving as it is aggravating. Likewise is 'The Temple' also covered by the previously mentioned Afghan Whigs on their 1994 release 'Gentlemen'. Ive mentioned before, this record is one of the first pieces of music I ever heard, and what I blame most of my adolescent nightmares on.
-The Dirtbombs 'Dangerous Magical Noise' and 'Ultra Glide in Black'
What can I say about this band that I havent already? They make my world go round, and Soulcraft named a bike after them. Nuf said.
-Black Flag 'My War'
The first punk rock record I ever bought and was probably responsible, for better or for worse, for me keeping one foot firmly planted in reality, while the other foot was floating somewhere in the world of standard preteen despair and self destruction.
-Slint 'Spiderland'
To me listening to this is somehow akin to being stuck on a rapidly disintegrating ship on an angry sea, with a glimmer of calm visible on the distant horizon.
-Shellac 'Peel Sessions bootleg' 7"
While the recording quality isnt that good on this 7" record, its one of my favorites because its got one of the first recordings of 'Spoke' which was later released on their 'Excellent Italian Greyhound' LP, and also because I know for a fact that its the only Shellac release, bootleg or otherwise, that Shellac drummer Todd Trainer doesnt own.
-Turbonegro 'Suffragette City' 7"
This is like a Reeces peanut butter cup... Two great tastes that go great together. The mighty Turbonegro do justice to David Bowies hit, and when you get right down to it, David Bowie rules.
-The Cherubs 'Car jack Fairy' 7"
It was once said perhaps by me, or by someone like minded that 'Carjack Fairy' should be the new national anthem.
-Mule 'Im Hell' 7"
Another Mule Album. This is the one Ive mentioned here several times before on which they pay tribute to Nina Samones 'To Love Somebody'. I suppose a true Nina purest would be absolutely aghast at this version, but to my ears it sounds like pure bliss.
-The Jesus Lizard 'Wheelchair Epidemic' 7"
Always professional, always deranged, The Jesus Lizard dont disappoint in the least with their cover of The Dicks song as the title track. When this one came across the desk of Tipper Gore in her PMRC days, Id imagine she probably simply threw up her hands and walked away.
-The Hellacopters 'Killing Allan' 7"
Years ago I published a little fanzine and operated a record label on which we focused almost exclusively on 7" records. Eventually we were getting envelopes stuffed with 45s of every imaginable genre. Most of them sucked, but a pretty fair number did not. I was pretty taken with what these unknown Scandinavian long hairs were getting into, so I filed it away in my collection. It wasnt until several years later when the band actually got pretty huge and I found that folks were dropping up to $400.00 for this particular slab. I decided Id had good foresight when squirreling it away, but all of that aside, they do a tremendous job at channeling what those from the motor city like The Stooges and the MC5 were doing decades earlier.
Now lastly, not that Im nearly done, but more so because Id imagine youre fairly bored with this drivel by now, Ill feature this final gem that truth be told, I cant even remember the music on, but for obvious reasons, I bought simply due to the genius of the packaging.
-Buzzmuscle 'Assembler' 7"
Thats some crackerjack marketing right there, my friends.
As Ive flipped through the collection and attempted to narrow down the field of what ten records or so, Id like to be trapped on a desert island with, I realize Im no closer now then I was a couple of hours ago.
While these are indeed some of my favorites, there is a myriad of other titles chomping at their heels, and perhaps at some point when I have another afternoon to burn Ill get to listing those as well.
Its true what they say though... Record collectors genuinely are pretentious assholes.
Here's a beer that I saw in the latest Beer Advocate that I knew a hexakosioihexekontahexaphile like yourself needed to know about.
Something to look for the next time you find yourself in Toronto.
-Matt"
I told Matt I figured it probably tastes like blood.
And then Peter writes with something totally unrelated;
"I have no idea what this has to do with anything other than greasiness, but noteworthy nonetheless.
We, being myself and the studio folks, where having our weekly grubdown on the salty goodness, yet nutritionally void, unnamed pizza and wings.
Upon looking at one of the boxes it was revealed that unnamed pizza place had licensed out the batman trademark. Apparently someone on their creative team thought it would be a great idea to make batman suite "collect them all" kind of pieces that you can cut away from boxes. Great idea in theory... (the pictures will show the poor idea in execution. don't forget to read the warning)
Unfortunately, I was unable to coax any of my studiomates to wear piece #1, the mask of course.
As if this shit didn't give people a bad enough complexion already!
Anyway, as they say at such fine dining establishments, "Enjoy!"
When warnings such as 'dont make a mask out of this till theres no pizza in it' start appearing, I tend to blame the lawers, and the pansy ass victims who insist on suing over such nonsense.
But then again, if you were gonna try and sue somebody for all that theyre worth, this 'unnamed eatery' probably wouldnt be a bad place to start.
Maybe you could even end up with enough dough out of the deal to afford a home here.
Just dont forget to buy your condoms elsewhere.
this one is topical, but they all rule. Get in on it.
Off to ride.
Hambone"
If I was a betting man, Id say that particular strip was inspired by Ed, cause you all know what I say about people who ride bikes..
Ed was most definitely both.
But you know, now that i think about it, you rarely ever see any fat poor and/or crazy people...
That intersection should most likely be marked by this street sign that Joe sent a shot to us of;
Now then, did everybody have a good weekend? Most likely it was too short as always, I figure.
Life around these parts was none too shabby.
I eked out some time on the bike with Blacksocks, but primarily I hunkered down in the studio and got rad. At some point recently I realized that outside of work, bikes, eating, sleeping and brushing my teeth, I end up with about 15 minutes of genuine free time a week, so I gotta use it wisely.
And while were close to the topic of wasting time, Colin writes;
"Dear Stevil,
I've never played one of these things before, but I might have to start. Here's the article from the New York Times.
I'm not sure if that's a lot or a little, but seems like the Times just wanted to print something with 666 in the title.
-Colin
Say, it was pointed out to me after I posted it, but that Times article about the InBev buyout had a word count of six hundred and sixty six.
I thought that was awesome.
Anyway Colin, stay the hell away from those things. I went to a party at a friends house some time ago, and they had just gotten one. Like I always say, 'try everything at least once', which I did.
For about a minute.
Basically I think video games are lame, whether theyre interactive or not, and unless you happen to be in prison, are a huge waste of time and money.
One thing I dont think is a huge waste of time and money however is sending a black metal band to the playground.
Not sure if this was covered before on HTATBL, and if so, I apologize in advance. But, if not, you're in for a real treat -- after all, what goes better with bacon than demonic black metal? I present to you "Morbid Anal Fog" and their video for "Nokturnal Bacon Throne":
Lovin' your site -- many work hours are spent giggling maniacally at the myriad delights contained within.
Jack Sweeney
"Ghost Rider"
Tampa, Florida"
That reminds me of the old days when the guys from Big Brother Magazine would dress up like black metal kids and go take cooking classes and such.
Never before have spiked wrist bands and white face paint been so much fun.
You know what else would be fun?
This;
"Hey Stevil,
The local antique/"architectural ornament" shop had this in their showroom and called us to tune it up for them. Pretty rad. My favorite part is the wooden number plate w/ the star. So pimp! Moto-fork....coaster brake for about 1000lb fully-loaded? (yikes!) Enjoy.
Ghostship Matt"
I swear- all of my friends and I would have so much fun on that thing..
You know.. if I only had four more friends....
We havent showcased any art that doesnt suck for a while, so today seems to be as good a day as any to do just that. Shortly after my most recent trip to Minneapolis, I put up a photo I shot of one of Evan Pennys hyper realistic sculptures. Heres a clip of Mr. Penny discussing the process and the impetus of his work;
If you like that, perhaps youd like to check out the follow up clips in the series. Part two,
and part three.
Heyho, Its Monday. Ive got my thinking cap back on and all of my pencils sharpened...
I guess that means its time to find a breakfast burrito and a cup of coffee...
I mean I cant work brilliantly if I dont eat brilliantly first.
For example, our friends over at Bicycle Retailer did us a solid thats akin to asking a grizzled old man such as myself for an I.D. when attempting to purchase the hootch.
They called us hipsters.
Now it should be duly noted that collectively (with the exception of Bruce, who is ageless), the five of us are roughly 216 years old, with around 75 years in the bike industry between us, but thats neither here nor there. The author of said piece has made me feel young again, and for that, I offer many thanks.
I do have to take slight exception to any one of us being referred to as a 'Swobozo' however. I understand that on a good day our hair is generally an unmanageable mess of crap, but theres really no need to go throwing stones.
Another form of Friday Hero comes in the form of Will;
"Hey Stevil,
Thanks for featuring my story of carnage and stick-to-itiveness a few weeks back. I'm almost all healed up, that wet healing method is indeed a lot better, although peeling wet scabs off your arm every morning in the shower is a drag.
I only bring this to your attention reluctantly, as I am not a superstitious man, but take a look at the race numbers I had for the Buffalo Creek Xterra (see pic). There were two numbers in the race pack, one for the bike, one for the run... it takes a little addition, but... As you know, I crashed like a sack of potatoes, if that sack of potatoes happened to be riding in a downhill race. I will speculate no further.
While I was recovering and telling my harrowing tale to coworkers in the office, I was soon made to feel like an ass, because the Thursday after my wipeout, my coworker Katie was hit while walking across the street by a left turning in-attentive driver going about 30 mph. Katie may weigh about 102 lbs, so she did not win in this showdown. My only hope is that since she was in a crosswalk, crossing on the walk sign, and the driver was on their phone, that Katie will soon be a wealthier woman, and not have to trouble herself with unpleasantries such as data entry. (she said it's cool if you want to use her picture).
That picture was taken while Katie and I observed a kickball game which we normally participate in during healthier times, and so instead we drank Coors on the sidelines. My big moment came when an errant ball bounced my way, and on my slow jog to retrieve it, I ended up rolling my ankle and mangling the tendon that makes my left foot work properly. The damn ankle injury hobbled me more than the bike wipeout, and turned my whole foot a lovely shade of putrid purple for a few days time... just goes to show, you need to avoid the bummer life as much as possible since you never know when you will be crippled chasing down a kick ball, or flattened by a RAV4 while innocently crossing the street.
Yours Truly,
Will"
Firstly, never in the history of man have numbers been a catalyst of ill fate, and if anything, your good fortune for ending up with those plates steered you clear of making an even greater mess of yourself, though I cant refrain from mentioning that part of the reason you crashed just may have been because youre missing one of your fork legs.
Anyway, accidents happen.. Its just that Satan keeps a close eye on us to make sure we dont get too badly damaged. He needs us around to continue spreading his word.
Secondly, I always assumed that anyone who got in a tangle with a Rav4 would just swat it away like a pesky gnat and emerge victorious, but evidentially thats not the case. Im glad youre both doing well and healing up like healthy people do.
Thirdly, and though I probably should be, Im not ashamed to admit that theres something unsettlingly alluring about an attractive woman in a neck brace.
And speaking of attractive people with injuries, heres to the first day of the rest of my life.
Another suitable Friday Hero was sent from the large fella on a bike who is my eight year old alter ego that goes by the name of Chloe.
She obviously has nothing before her but a sublimely sinister path, and it doesnt look to bother her to much.
Now then.. this beast right here is the pneumatic stapler that we use to seal up the bike boxes.
The other day I thought it would be funny if I emptied it out and then nail The Skipper in the back to scare him. Just before I unveiled my master prank, I took it for a test drive on my own thigh just to be sure it was harmless. As I pulled the trigger, I recalled the lightning quick and gigantic spikes that protrude momentarily when fired.
The result was a blinding pain and a sweet bruise.
That right there is called the wisdom of adulthood. Had I been two decades younger or so, I would have gone ahead and lit The Skipper up, which ultimately would have resulted in me having to hold him down and apologize until he swore not to punch me in the nose.
So on that note... Hell... Maybe I deserve to be a little bit of a Friday Hero as well.
Apparently the powers that be had a suspicion that The Skipper and I were spending our days in the warehouse goofing off and had secret video cameras installed in an attempt at catching us in the act. Somehow Brent got ahold of one of the clips and forwarded it on to me letting me know the days of shirking our duties are numbered.
That surely will wreak havoc on my doctors visits insurance claims.
You know who else fits into this weeks Friday Hero category? Elmes and his love of all things two wheeled.
I smell some serious adventure on the horizon for this particular hero.
And now- an email from El Gato;
"Stevil,
Its only a matter of time until we see the Bacon Helmet:
As I responded to The Cat, bacons supposed to go in you, not on you...
In regards to the recent InBev buyout of our beloved Budweiser, our own Sky writes;
"I did an informal survey when I was in Belgium in '05 shortly after InBev became the globe's heavy hitter buying up Brasil's Brahma brand. I asked bartenders "Who is more evil? George Bush or InBev?" Nine out of ten said "InBev." As you certainly know beer in Belgium is like wine in France, the national drink and a symbol of pride. There are over 150 breweries there. Well, InBev gets the Zenith of Evil award because they're not buying up the little breweries, they're buying up the distributors. Look out American beer drinkers, it's going to be a rocky ride. Did you know InBev owned Rolling Rock?
And with that, I say 'aside from InBev and Ricco, screw the work week doldrums'...
I say 'the weekends for sleeping in, delicious breakfast, cartoons and bicycles'....
I say 'crack a coldy with a friend and shoot BB guns at emptys in the backyard, but freak out cause you caught a ricochet right near your eyeball but then you laugh because the welt looks like a little smiley face, and then you play with your cat and take a nap...'
Pulling out the drawers, and scattering the contents like so many leaves in the wind..Again.
Ive got a jam packed inbox again, and no realistic way of cohesively linking any of it together, so Ill just dump it out, and you can pick the gems as you choose. Like this one for example;
"-'The Future is Unwritten' may be the best movie ever....this probably will be second"
Again- No doubt.
Evan wrote in to let us know he has more fun then we do;
"I was lucky enough to be at the Rothbury Festival last weekend and spotted some of your wares at the Clif/Trek 2 mile challenge booth. I wanted to take it off off the rack and ride it, walking's for the birds.
Incredibly good music, vibes and weather, and now it's back to the grind. Complete avoidance of said bummer-life, though. If memories were currency I'm a rich bastard...
evan"
You know, our friend Elmes was out there working with the Clif Bar folks, and when we crossed paths when I was back in Colorado, he was still raving about it. He also said that everybody was super stoked with the Swobo bikes. Especially the individual who helped themselves to one.
Bike thieves obviously have good taste.
Slappy writes;
"Well Hello there, hopefully you're doing fantastically well, in the off chance that there is any correlation to Cycling; Perhaps you'd be interested in The fresh STomparillaz bi-cycling jersey.
Guaranteed to be the greatest piece of lycra to be wearing at any time ever again. There will be an upside down sentence wrapping the bottom of the jersey which you can lift up and pretend to read at any time. Anyone and everyone fond of stomping who pre-orders will have their name in that sentence somewhere. (although if you choose to deny everything we can write it invisibly). I'll probably wear two on the coast to coast ride this fall, for safety, love safety. If you like lycra and want to get involved with the imminent STomparillaz Jersey order, they'll be in the $90 ish range barring the apocalypse, in which case you will be refunded in snakeskin. More information
thanks A Lot - And have a LOvely summer
Max"
And if you cut it into little squares and put one in your mouth, the purple monkey will most certainly grab you by the electric brain banana.
As I mentioned before, Ive got a pile of stuff from folks that Ive kinda dropped the ball on getting around to posting. George wrote last week with the kind of fare that forms the foundation of bummer life avoidence;
"well dude,
we had one hell of a 4th of July Celebration - fish fry, smoked wild boar, whitetail, fried potatoes and onions, patron, 4wheelers, swimming holes, croquet, sunshine.
leather clad grandpa shredding walmart specials (last year he wheelied the 4 wheeler)
then we jumped into the week with a killer tuesday night ride, new trails what else do you need and then 3 hours later we're pounding beer and eating wings.
yes. hike a bike section, death gnar, baby heads and full on adult heads to throttle through at mach 5. lets do this shit!
Newsflash: this guy celebrated his independence day by submitting his 2 weeks to the bummer life issuer. let's hope that the life is going to jump back into fuller speed.
whatever - its time for shut eye and thursday night ride dreams.
killin it.
snap,
g"
Ive said it before, and Ill say it again. George has the life that the rest of us strive for.
Speaking of which, Captain Dave is still kicking ass and taking names in the category 8.5 races.
Seconds after this shot was taken, he dismounted his trusty steed and kicked the crap out of those two kids on the scooters.
Just cause...
Now back to current events.. Ben writes;
"Stevil,
Ben from The Alt. Yesterday was the annual Bastille Day Block Party at Barbette here in Mpls. Every year our BMX team does a demo there, but this year we decided to try something new that was an equal crowd pleaser. Adults racing on Strider childrens bikes. Brilliant.
Notice One on One's own Zito getting aced.."
Give the poor sap a break.. Strider bikes are, what?.. Like 8 inches tall, and Zito is somewhere in the neighborhood of 101 inches taller then that?
Poor guy didnt stand a chance.
Ann wrote in and sent us a picture of GeneO... I mean Oscar;
"Our dog oscar waiting for us to finish beers before mt biking"
Ann, Id say Oscar is an especially handsome hound, even if he wasnt wearing such fetching head gear.
..Fetching.. Get it?
I swear this stuff just happens naturally. Its like Im at the keyboard and somebody else is driving.
Being in this somewhat visible position lends to sometimes existing in a fairly venerable state. Ive never been one to conceal my feelings, so as the curator for a good portion of the content that you read here, the risk I run is that people could possibly take advantage of said venerability.
Luckily, for the most part, I find that Im among friends here, which was proven to me with unflinching certainly during the current upset within the confines of Anheuser Bush.
Case in point, Joe sent this article on about the turbulent emotions whirling around this undoing of what some feel to be the only pillar of true blue Americanism left.
Some folks, myself included, fear that our Budwesier will no longer stand for the hard working, blue collar American, who just want to get shitfaced and play some pinball after a day in the proverbial salt mines and will soon cater to the whims of the sashaying debutante, fickle in their ways, just riding the coat tails of whatever trend or fad happens past.
We need to stand tall together and demand that our tradition stay true to who we are and what we believe, though in the back of my head, there is the nagging little voice of insecurity and uncertainty.
Now, with that being said, from the bottom of my heart I appreciate that you all have taken my feelings into consideration, during this, one of my darkest hours, and offered support and guidance so that we might emerge from this together as a stronger and more unified force.
Its a long, rough road ahead, but with you all at my back, I have no doubt that I will emerge victoriously on the other side.
Well after wrestling with an increasingly bum wing for the last couple of months, I finally paid the doctor a visit to find out just what the hell was taking place inside of me. The good news is they wont have to amputate, but the bad news is that due to an increased strain from hucking hundreds of pounds of bike boxes off of our pallet shelving day in and day out, Im now proudly diagnosed with some possible nerve damage, basically a bunch of compacted wrist bones, and acute arthritis, though from where I stand, can see nothing cute about it at all.
The most amazing conversation took place in the P.T.s office however, which concluded with her telling me that it would be best if I took a break from none other than riding bikes off road and drinking alcohol.
Stunned, the best analogy I could come up with was that the only other thing she could have told me that made less sense was that it would serve me well to spend the duration of my healing process walking on backwards my hands, naked and only breathing out of my ass.
But realistically, the long and the short of it is maintaining a schedule away from these things that, in effect, construct nearly the whole of who I am, will only serve to ensure that I can hopefully do them for many more years.
So that being said, it looks like Ill be seeing you riding on the road for some weeks to come.
You will be able to recognize me by my dayglo vest and barrage of helmet mirrors.
And you know, as long as Im at this life change, Im not ashamed to admit that Im now attempting to maintain a regular schedule of something I never thought would pass my lips, or as the case may be, strain my hips....
Ahem..Palates.
Jesus, if Loudass thought hed struck gold with last years pool party, then we havent seen anything yet.
But as Ive embarked on this new and totally queer journey, Im just now beginning to realize that due to the fact that Ive done next to nothing else for my body but ride bikes for almost 20 years, my upper body has nearly atrophied, while my lower body has over developed to the point that watching me do the various stretches, is not alot unlike watching someone attempt to balance a medicine ball on a golf tee.
Im not ashamed to admit that if I dont start doing something about my physical state now, Im afraid Ill literally be crippled in another five years, so if that means being a target of the kinds of world class carpet bomb heckling that only my friends can dish out, then so be it.
Now while were on the topic of various states of physical abilities, Im sure youre all aware of our friend Bobby McMullen.
Well, after watching this entire film recently, the realization that my poor widdle wrist is not much more than a hangnail in comparison, squished me like a ton of bricks.
We actually have picked up a stack of the DVDs to give away to folks, so out of respect to just what a giant of a man Bobby is, Im not gonna throw a contest or anything. Im just going to say that the first folks who want to get a copy for themselves should send me an email to stevil@swobo.com and as long as I have them, Ill send you one.
(*Update- by the wee hours of the morning, my inbox was filled, and the DVDs are all spoken for- but you can still always get a copy for yourself here.)
This film is an absolute must see for the simple fact that it should serve as glaring inspiration that no matter what adversity life throws at us, we can all have the resolve to dig deep and make things better for ourselves.
The film will also have screenings at select venues in California in the coming weeks as well;
Bodies Exhibit
Redding, CA
Sunday, July 20th, 11am, 1pm, 3pm
Action on Film Festival (nominated for Best Docmentary Cinematography!)
Pasadena, CA
Tuesday, July 22nd, 1:00
And lastly, as proud as I am to have the position as moderator on this here weblog, Bobby is absolutely, and undeniably the model for bummer life avoidance, and I tip my hat humbly at his perseverance and mettle.
So with all of that being said, lets venture back to the standard array of jackassery, shall we?
Like this, for example... Friday afternoon, Jenni took off her shoe and showed me how shes able to flip me off with her feet;
How about an email from El Gato in which he talks of the thing that Im not allowed to do anymore?
"Stevil,
I suspect at least part of the reason some of us choose 'cross bikes is the perverse pleasure we get when passing armor clad mountain huckers on single track. Ah, the joy in hearing "Dude, that guy just cleaned Braille on a ROAD bike".
I'm wondering what it would feel like to pass a few cars on Highway 17 wearing this this naughty little number..
El Gato"
I was lambasted by a bunch of paintball gear wearing bafoons not so very long ago for 'riding my road bike on a downhill trail'.
As I unleashed my 60 hour work week fury upon them, one of them called me Lance, and then they scurried away to their awaiting F350 shuttle.
Talk about giving douchebags a bad name.
Of course now in hindsight, riding my 'road bike' on 'their downhill trail' might possibly partially explain why Im currently unable to any longer, pick up a book, high five or turn a door knob with my left hand.
How about a sweet shot of Jamie and Hurl?
The story behind this shot is a good one. Hurl and Mac had just returned to the Bay Area from a bicycle trip around Vietnam, while I on the other hand had just been given a full year of disability from my job. To celebrate their return to the states, and my departure from any level of responsibility whatsoever, we embarked on a marathon run of beer drinking and debauchery. As sticky eyes began to slowly peel open on the morning in question, Ian shook me awake and urgently inquired, "doesnt Jamie live here.. I mean, hes got a bedroom in this house, right?" which was the truth. Why Jamie chose to snuggle up to Hurl, pole to hole, as they say, is a sweetly unresolved mystery that will forever live in the annals of history.
Also, as local lore has it, that red spot on the wall behind the sofa was a result of my Halloween costume many months earlier, shown here in the preliminary stages of totally killerness;
But in a eventual C.S.I. type of investigation shortly after the stain occured, Im reasonably certain that this theory was soundly debunked.
Have you got time for a long, and somewhat mathematically challenging email, with an end result of awesome?;
"Hey Stevil,
Love the site. Cuttin' to the chase. I was at work the other day (at the lbs) and it happens to be next to a grocery store. We are good friends with the manager of the store. Apparently, they have way to many pies because they are on sale 24/7. So our bud, the manager, brought us a few pies. Now, the same day I happened to have some relatives in town for dinner; so I took a pie to feed the out-of-towners. The only reason I took the pie is because I happened to take the basket off an old 1984 Free Spirit Greenbrier (Sears and Roebuck top of the line back then) and put it on my commuter - as opposed to my usual backpack. The basket was just big enough (Read: an inch too small) to hold the box that incarcerated the pie. This didn't seem like much of a problem until on the road. I hit a pothole and BOOM apple pie became apple crumble. I made it the rest of the way with the crumble in the box, and when I arrived, it was a hit with the family! The next morning I was in the garage painting the Free Spirit, when my younger brother was looking at my commuter bike. He noticed that the cycling computer's odometer said 1668 miles. I thought that was odd and paid it no mind until talking about the crumble later. I then ran to the PC and mapped my commute. I looked for the area where the pie-destroying pothole was and guess how far it was from my house. 2 miles, making the odometer reading 1666 when my pie kicked the bucket... or should I say kicked the basket.
Peace,
Ben R, Wilmington, NC"
Since I was provided with no visual aide for that saga, I was left to my own devices and came up with this shot of a sad pie;
Every time the devil makes you destroy a pie, an angel gets its wings.
And now as a final drop of the the science that Ive recently become inundated with, as Id mentioned before, our friend Joes written a really good book thats about to be released on Velopress called 'A Dog In a Hat', which of course I recommend each and every one of you read, but whats the very most especially exciting to me is that the publisher has actually quoted me at the foot of the books description on their website.
When requesting to use the quote, I replied with "you can quote the fu*king sh*t out of me, and you can quote me on that too" but it looks like they opted for the former.
It just goes to prove once again, that good things really can happen to bad people.
I believe it was Little Jewford that suggested I organize some sort of celebratory ride of the debauched/release party for the book when it finally drops later this summer, which I think to be a fantastic idea, and as the date approaches, look for details to develop. One things for sure- there will be alot of beer and mayonnaise involved, though not necessarily in that order.
And just as a tease, heres a clip of Joes 1988 Roubaix (check the results at the conclusion) in all of its yellowish, vintage porn looking glory.
.. A hugely epic battle, ultimately decided by a plastic bag.
And lastly, huge thanks go out to Tim for the use of this weeks banner shot. If youd like to see more of Tims photo set, all you gotta do is click here.
Alright, thats all Ive got for now. Like usual, we hope everybody had a nice couple of days off and are getting their groove on to shake away the Monday blues.
The Tour is the grandpappy of the cycling world, and with 2008 a week deep, try as I might, I cant muster the same kind of enthusiasm I once had for this- the biggest of all big bicycle races.
I sometimes curse myself for having gained the knowledge that I have over the last decade or so, as it seems to have done nothing but made me more jaded and stripped the absolute exhilaration I once felt watching these god among men achieving what, in my widest dreams, I could only dare to imagine.
I know in times past, Ive recalled standing at the bar of a rock and roll show at San Franciscos Bottom of the Hill, while the Kansas City band Shiner ripped through their set. I was gazing up at the television, watching Riis crush all comers in whatever mountain stage happened to be televised that night, covered in goosebumps watching the crowds go berserk as his victory was all but locked, but now when I think back on it, all I see is this;
As Ive said before- I want to believe that these men are truly capable of the achievements Ive watched completed with baited breath year after year, but as every disgrace and scandal rears its head, and the he- said-she-said finger pointing comes to a climax, Im increasingly unable to invest the same passions I once was.
You know, except for the Roubaix. We all know how I feel about the Roubaix... And as long as youre stuck here reading my words, Ill reiterate. I think that all of the classics, but most especially 'The Hell of The North', looks down its collective nose at all of the pissant controversy and chuckles as it casually rolls up all of the doping alligations, the infighting, designer sunglasses, posturing and the Rock and Republic jeans, and flicks it off like a booger.
Anyhow, back to The Tour.. Through Armstrongs 1999, 2000, and 2001 wins, I like many American fans of the bicycle races, welled up with pride, most especially after the stage he won in honor of his fallen comrade Casartelli. As he crossed the line, zipped up his jersey and pointed to the sky, I was floored with what still stands as one of the most memorable and reaffirming events Ive experienced since I fell for the sport so many years ago.
Perhaps my innocence was partially responsible for the joy that I used to feel. Witnessing the super-human accomplishments of people like Lemond and The Badger, Big Mig, Jan, of course The Cannibal (though only in reruns, as during his last victory, I was just four), and The Pirate (despite Pantanis eventual fall from grace) was like watching someone preform magic. You cant believe your eyes, yet there it is right in front of you.
For example, I wondered how it was as a title sponsor, the entire Festina team had been ousted from the 1998 Tour, and that it must surely mean they got caught simply because they were cheating, so justice had been served.
It was the following year that Id learned that in fact Festina had planned on pulling its sponsorship, so for the UCI it was no harm done, and an example had been made of those, who some say, were doing just what everyone else was anyway, its just that they were expendable.
Conspiracy, conspiracy, conspiracy.
A secondary gripe that Ive got is that as Lances victories began to mount, I watched the same pride I felt for the Texan develop and devour in every direction until I was silently witnessing American popular culture bastardize this thing I loved with him as an unwitting posterboy, until I finally felt that the lifestyle and specticle that once was uniquely mine had at some point slowly been stripped from my grasp by throngs of hamfisted, flagwaving 'Merikuns on the international stage of competitive cycling chanting 'U.S.A., U.S.A..."
I mean christ, didnt watching Rocky Balboa defeat the gigantic blond Russian teach us all that America kicks ass at EVERYTHING?
Why do we have to be so brash about how killer 'we' are at it all?
Anyhow, when presented with the chance to rub elbows with any number of the men Ive seen over all the years on television and in magazines, Id be lying if I said that I still dont get a distinct thrill based on the simple fact as athletes, but more over as cyclists, they all have experienced something that I could only dare to dream about, and that all of the controversy aside, when you happen upon anyone of these people, its hard not to be just a little bit in awe.
I can still get a glimpse of my former, more naive self from time to time, so I know hes in there. Perhaps all I need to do is let a bit of time to pass, and the dust settle so that again eventually this epic of all events can regain the luster and shine that it once held.
And as efforts are made to clean up the sport, and the arm chair experts fall off by the wayside, I wait with a unique cynical certainty that eventually, it will again.
And now finally, I would like to note that after literally hours of penning, editing, and re-editing this piece, I glanced upon it late Thursday afternoon, only to see that a majority of it had been swallowed up into cyberspace- flicked like the aforementioned bogger, and with this, I can only surmise that the bicycle Illuminati is sitting somewhere in gigantic red leather chairs, smoking cigars that cost as much as I make in a day, and laughing smugly.
You really should have read the first draft, man.
It totally ruled.
Have a good weekend everybody, and from this corner of the world, signing off-
Starting with this particular shirt, we're going to be stoking people who are signed up on our Swobo newsletters. This is how we see if working.......you sign up for our Swobo newsletter on the Swobo site we'll be sending out a newsletter to you when we launch new products. These newletters that hype something new, will have a Scooby Snack code listed on each newsletter. These codes will give you several days to buy this newness with a discount attached. It's our way of giving a break to those that stay in the loop, and are part of what we do. These codes will be like the M-80 wick that you thought was out...but then blows up all of a sudden...so if you're interested, you've got to act on it. Some will last longer than others.....total moving target that will last between 1-5 days. We'll let you know when we send the notices.
Signing up takes about 3 days to get added to our list, so if you miss the cut on this one, you can be assured you get the following emails.
A Friendship is the only unsinkable kind of ship..
As I was sitting at my desk Tuesday morning, Joefish came in to my office, put his hand on my shoulder and began, "you know, I was thinking about you today on my ride into work.. I was thinking about all of the time weve known each other, and the relatively heavy stuff youve seen me go through, and just what a good friend youve been- and as I was thinking these things, I glanced down on the street and saw this;"
I sensed just then that God must surely been aware of what was going on in Joes head and that it was going to result in Joe saying something to me that would have made my morning just that much more pleasant and so he shot a little lightening bolt down that turned into this sticker just as Joes gaze met the street where it lay.
Though Id be lying if I said my face wasnt resembling a bit of that particular bit of the anatomy these days, so maybe it was just fate.
Another friend named Tim sent in something that was a little less ballsacky in reference to our beer can collection;
"Stevil, This is the Bob Owen Memorial Cup. Do yourself a favor and do the google on Bob Owen. US hockey hero, and unfortunately, he died a bummer death. This is the trophy I play for when I’m not on the bike.
Win it and your name is engraved on the keg. I haven’t won it yet in 5 tries, so I’m not in this picture. In it, though, you will notice a couple of decent mustaches.
The keg was MGD, if you were wondering.
tp"
That reminds me, when I was back in Colorado, Elmes said that hed been playing hockey with a bunch of fellas for the last few years, and that it was a perfect supplement to his bike riding life.
It got me to thinking.. Maybe karate and model car building isnt what I need to do to occupy my time when Im not on a bike. Maybe it should be hockey.
Granted, I havent had a pair of ice skates on since I was in fourth grade, and even then, I spent more time sliding around on my ankles then the I did the blades, but being so incredibly adept at all things physical as I am, Im sure Ill be super terrific at that too.
Now then- the following surveillance photo is of a young woman out in Colorado stealing a chair. She goes by the moniker of 'The Republic of Jamie' and she sent an email that has nothing to do with anything.
Just like I like em;
"okay, as a cyclist i do get yelled at from passing cars, not that i'm doing anything that could cause an accident or an inconvience, just people being dicks.
but i had probably what i would consider the strangest thing yelled at me thus far. Some young douche water rednecks yelled "get a horse!"
As I responded to her, surely she cant disparage the young man for his enthusiasm. Im sure she might not remember back to the first time she rode in a car, but if she could Id bet that it would be recalled as a truly invigorating experience- The kind that inspires one to yell out the window.
For example, in Florida around Spring time, many first timers yell; "WOOOOOOOOOOOSPRINGBREAKWOOOOO!"
Or in Salt Lake City I had a fellow drive passed me simply yelling "FAAAAGGGGOOOTTTTT!...."
See, it isnt easy being retarded. I told her that she has to look deep inside of herself and find some solace in the simple fact that shes fortunate enough to know how exciting it is to ride in a car, and as such, she carries that thrill with grace and dignity.
Not everyone can be so lucky.
I got another email from the George camp proving that avoiding the bummer life is in their blood;
"First of all. Big Andrew, Sweet Mike, Jaret and I ran today and we all survived. This shit is amazing and we're drunk as Moses and having the time of our lives.
Second of all, last night we were robbed of all possessions. We now have just the clothes on our back and some cash, Which Mike keeps reminding us is a true blessing in disguise.
We are a lot lighter, we don't have to haul incovienient bags around and we don't have to worry about the latest fashion trends. It's just us and the road now.
Still smiling, drunk, and loving life once again in Pamplona.
Hasta Pronto,
Zness"
Now it should be noted that although I wasnt provided with any visual aide for the story, I suspect they would progress something like this-
One;
two;
and three;
Thats what they call good times.
One of our heartiest foot soldiers that goes by the name of Frank keeps his eye peeled in every direction for the good stuff, and in his latest email, didnt veer off course;
What can I say? We were well ahead of our time in regards to our fashion sense, and I suspect with the inclusion of jeweled pants clips and Chanel bicycles into our fold, its just a matter of time before we see Jennifer Aniston tooling about on Rodeo Drive wearing coveralls as well.
And moreover, even though its been a long debated issue whether or not girls fart, I suspect that while wearing the coveralls, she might go for the added protection of these, you know... Just in case.
Well there we are. Another post on this bicycle blog that has almost nothing at all to do with bicycles.
Ill tell you.. Im almost getting this down to a science.
That being said, Ill drop a tiny bit of knowledge about the Bicycle Film Festival thats rearing its head again. This time its in our home away from home in Minneapolis, so if youre there, be there and not square, dig?
Back to the grind with all 11 fingers still intact.
While the fourth of July is a day to celebrate for a slew of reasons, as with many holidays, the point seems to be missed by most, and generally misconstrued as a day when folks get to blow the holy hell out of things.
Well in light of the fact that most of California is presently on fire, the general population was understandably worried about mixing fire with propulsion in any form. Laying low, the better half and I ended up at Black Socks abode for some grilling and filling. Eventually after feeding the neighbors animals and taking a walk to the top of the hill, we were gazing out over the sinking sun, when a gentleman approached. "Can I help you?" he asked forcefully. "Were just up here enjoying at view", we responded. "Yeah.. well youre standing in my driveway" he began. Then he sharply told us of his fear of forest fires.
How my right foot being six inches into the base of his driveway, or how two of the three of us standing holding glasses of wine looking out over the horizon with nary a sparkler between us had anything to do with that however, Im still not sure.
Ahh... the joys of experiencing someones false sense of entitlement.
Truthfully I was halfway expecting him to accuse us of stealing his air as well...
Anyhow, one of the other neighbors approached our group and we had a very pleasant chat about the history of the back roads up there, and what a truly lovely evening it turned out to be, which just about quelled my burning desire to let him know that his neighbor was a total dick.
I hope the unpleasant of the two had a wicked hangover the next morning.
Earlier in the day though, the aforementioned Black Socks and I got a very nice road ride on, when we ran into Vernor and Hillary, who jointly helped us decide to go survey the damage from an earlier wild fire.
I was slightly reminded of exploring the Oakland Hills after the fire storm of 1991. Everything before me had been laid waste to- The smell of charred earth filling every sense, and a bemused sense of wonder and pride for the men and women who are working tirelessly in an attempt to continually beat the fires into submission.
It should also be noted that despite my attempts at profound observation and so you the reader, wont think Ive gotten some highly literate ghost writer to pen todays post, that while on the ride, Black Socks and I also drank a ton of beer.
See? It is me.
Besides the whiff of burning manzanita, there was also a strong scent of love in the air.
We can only hope Louise said yes, though at 'press' time there was no indication either way.
But back to beer for a second, The Skipper and I have just about completed our offices newest feature- a trophy cabinet.
Id be a dirty liar if I told you that we didnt have every intention of leaving that for the next tenants, whoever that might be.
CFO sent an email chock full of bad words, wishing us a happy Independence Day, and as Ive said before, I attempt at every turn to keep the content here on The Bummer Life relatively family friendly, but I will rarely, if ever, censor whatever the fine folks who write to us have to say.
So that being said, send the kids out of the room, or skip over the following lines if your sensibilities are of a delicate nature;
"The dipshit appliance dude just completely botched installing a new oven at my parents house.....My brother, bro in law and I fixed his fuck up...Upon his leaving he exclaimed "enjoy your holiday" to which my nephew replied "enjoy your moustache"....it was fucking amazing.
So, to you and yours....enjoy your freedom....and enjoy your moustache!!!
CFO"
CFOs nephew is four. I think its safe to say that he is a chip off the old block, or blocks, as the case may be.
On Thursday, we got another package from The Pusher Man.
I know how this plays out. The first few tastes are free, and then once youre hooked, you find yourself doing all kinds of unthinkable things to get the fix.
No matter how many episodes of 'Intervention' I watch, I still cant seem to veer away from the inevitable.
Though they say that the first sign of addiction is denial. If I freely admit my addiction, am I then one step closer to... um.. whats the term?
I guess, nonaddiction?
Probably not.
Do you see The Oracle peeking out from back there in the corner? I guess it would be best to just wait and ask him.
I know I keep trying to regularly broach other topics and leave the one about pork behind, and with that being said, I have two final words for you.
Bacon tacos.
And lets let that... be the end of that.
A couple of weeks ago I drew a picture on a bike box that got shipped out amid a storm of other bikes, and included in the drawing I instructed whoever ultimately received said parcel to contact me for a free t-shirt. Eventually I got an email from Seth at On The Route bike shop in Chicago, but he said that some ner-do-well had actually discarded the box on his day off, so though he has no photographic proof, he did send a photo of his handsome self in front of his shop, and because I didnt really elaborate on any rules about having to save the piece, Im holding to my word and sending him his choice of shirts.
But Ill be damned if I can remember if he said he wanted one of our Ciclista Urbanos organic cotton shirts, or one of our limited edition unicorn shirts.
I dont know about you all, but I suspect just simply based on his appearance, that he would probably opt for the latter.
It should also be noted that the lovely Eva has loaned the fruit of her eye for this weeks header photo. If youd like to see what else shes up to, click here.
I forgot.. Thursdays kinda like Friday this week...
To paraphrase Lee Ving- "I love riding in the city...."
George forwarded these on to me on Wednesday morning, and the attached email simply said;
"I saw this dude riding on 3rd Ave today. How he's still alive, I couldn't tell you."
Please, for the love of God, would somebody who knows which city this particular 3rd Avenue is in, find the bike shop where this came from and kick the person who let this bike go out the door straight in the junk?
Just a couple of years ago, I came across a young man riding through town on a Joe Breeze city bike with a backwards fork and as gently as I could, I mentioned to him that his bike was assembled incorrectly, and that he should return to the shop and have them do right by him.
I can only hope that after these candid shots were taken, the same consideration was extended to the fellow depicted therein.
I have attached some pics from a recent ride on pa's 666, maybe you will enjoy them.
have a nice day.
kopko"
Maybe we will enjoy them?! Come on Alex, you know us better then that. Though as I emailed back to Alex, Id be lying if I said I wasnt a little dismayed that neither sign pointed to the South.
Secondly, Ill just say that Id really like one of those signs.
Also, in a totally unrelated piece of news, Im sitting on top of a whole lot of nice wool jerseys.
Neither statement has anything to do with the other.
...Just two simple random thoughts...
And as much as Id like to live there, it still probably wouldnt be as sweet as living here;
Anyhow, likewise Josh emailed us with some goods of a similar sort;
"Yo -- attached is a sign that the next generation of cyclists is ready and willing to serve the dark side."
Its good to se that the kiddliwinks are keeping the torch burning.
Ben from The Alt, which is one of the other coolest shops in the Midwest, sent an email to me that made the clouds part, and the birds sing;
"Stevil, clearly this guy is the Jean-Claude Van Damme of avoiding the bummer life. I'm in awe.
I know Ive used the analogy here before, but that was like watching a car crash. I sat at my computer with my hands covering my face, mouth agape waiting for this guy to stop.
"For the love of all that is right man, stop!" I muttered to myself..
But he did not, and for that I will always be thankful. Thankful and scarred.
The Berg sent the following lightening bolt of genius to us. Its our pride and pleasure to present to you The Beer Belly.
Of course my initial reaction was "So.. Uh.. just how many of those is Loudass actually wearing?!"
And some more from the truly inspired El Gato;
"Stevil,
Given recent posts of fluid tossing pendejos and anti-biker sticker artists, it is clear that we riders must become more assertive in our defense. Time to bring in the Air Corps:
Imagine the fear welling up from anti-social drivers as they look skyward after a searing bacon bomb attack, only to see the "Evil Cycling" Blimp eclipse the sun.
Then again this might cause drivers, especially in certain western and southern locales, to just start shooting. We'll have to work on the whole bullet proofing thing.
Lets stay safe out there....
El Gato"
As soon as I saw the beginning of the clip, my fantasy of the big old lanky Captain Dave pedaling furiously, unleashing his death from above hit me in my minds eye like a ton of bricks. It was almost enough to let me die a happy man.
Dan, who said he called all of the spider bites on Mondays 'death dial', as it turns out wasnt kidding;
"thanks for letting everyone know. The chills are still here but the fever is gone. I threw up a bunch but they didn't kill me. Guess riding and drinking all the time has made me impervious to venom. I love my liver, it's tough as shit.
thought you might dig this.
Joe Cocker translations"
Damn skippy I dig that. My initial introduction to Joe Cocker was John Belushis imitation on Saturday Night Live.. what was that, like 28 years ago? For all I knew, that actually was Joe Cocker.
Either way, its like dynamite for the eyes and the ears.
John emailed us with good thoughts for a good cause;
"Heya Stevil.
Normally I don’t pitch charities but you should check out this one listed at the Johnny Cycles blog.
Charity raffle to eradicate histiocytosis. 50 bucks gets you a 1 in 100 chance of winning a custom Jonny Cycles Reynolds 953 road or track frameset.
I figure I have a better chance of winning one than of actually being able to afford one in the next 3 years, and I can always rest easy knowing the money went to something worthwhile that didn’t involve pickling my liver if I don’t win."
I had a chance to meet the good folks from Johnny Cycles at the NAHMBS a couple of years ago, and do a little bit of drooling while I was at it. They do make some seriously fine bling over there, and this is a great opportunity for someone to gets their hands on some of their craftsmanship while aiding a charity all at the same time.
Are you all ready for the three ring circus that is American political commentary? Fasten your seatbelts, take a deep breath and drink it all in.
And secondly, the story of the group petitioning to rename a sewage treatment plant after (president) George Bush.
It should be noted however that the directors of the plant dont want it named as such because as theyve been quoted "...yeah, but our plant works really well..."
Truth truly is stranger than fiction.
On that note, as always, we hope everyone has a damn fine Independence Day weekend, and well be catching you on the flip side.
And for those of you living in states where fire works are legal, dont blow off anything that we wouldnt blow off.
