Where's Waldo?
Found him! He's asleep in the five dollar peep-show.
Where's Waldo?
Found him! He's staring down a stray dog for a scrap of Egg McMuffin® that somebody dropped.
Where's Waldo?
Found him! He's in line at the Methadone clinic.
Where's Waldo?
Found him! He's washing his hands in a stream of his own urine.

Speaking of urine, the collective that is The Soil Saloon are continuing their efforts at bringing the urban outlaw bike race to your very front porch.
That is unless you don't actually live in Golden Gate Park, then you'll have to ride there.

But never ones to be outdone by themselves, they're even throwing a pre-party to celebrate their own awesomeness;

It's events like these that you've been training all winter for.
And by 'training' I mean 'drunk in front of the fireplace'.

As detailed recently on The Bike Snob's Book Club, there is some swappage going on, and while said swappage isn't the kind that takes place at the big, round motel by the Oakland Airport, it's swappage none the less, and no sooner did I drop the Snob's book into the mail slot did a new book show up for me, sent from none other than DPow!

I'd already read all of the photo captions by the time I got to the top of my stairs, and as much as I want to unleash my blitzkrieg of a 15-word-a-minute reading comprehension on this bad boy, I'm opting to save it for my upcoming air travel marathon to Minneapolis.

As I was reflecting on this book as well as the previously posted reviews, I'd remembered another book I'd read that had completely slipped my mind, and as I said, book reading is something that's new to me, so I have to include all of them on the list if only to be fair to whoever it was that originally taught me to read.

The Gift of Fear by Gavin de Becker. This is a breathtaking book that everyone needs to read. In fact this was simultaneously recommended to me by Oprah and Sean. Oprah is the lady on T.V, but I'd read about her referral in a magazine, and Sean is the guy who does my tattoos. By trade, Gavin De Becker counsels individuals on how to handle threats of all kinds, but this book basically details the fact that we as human beings actually possess a sixth sense. Our animal instincts have been dulled by living in a 'civilized' society, and how sometimes that little voice telling you something is wrong isn't just paranoia, but something physiological taking place.
The stories contained therein are generally from a female's perspective, due to the sad fact that overwhelmingly women are the victims of violence, but this information is clearly applicable to everyone of any gender.

To paraphrase one point De Becker makes in this book "men's greatest fear is to be laughed at by a women. A women's greatest fear is to be killed by a man."

In a last ditch effort to impress upon you the gravity, as well as the importance of this read, I'll go ahead and include some of it's text as well;

"Each hour, 75 women are raped in the United States, and every few seconds, a woman is beaten. Each day, 400 Americans suffer shooting injuries, and another 1,100 face criminals armed with guns. Author Gavin de Becker says victims of violent behavior usually feel a sense of fear before any threat or violence takes place. They may distrust the fear, or it may impel them to some action that saves their lives. A leading expert on predicting violent behavior, de Becker believes we can all learn to recognize these signals of the "universal code of violence," and use them as tools to help us survive. The book teaches how to identify the warning signals of a potential attacker and recommends strategies for dealing with the problem before it becomes life threatening. The case studies are gripping and suspenseful, and include tactics for dealing with similar situations.
People don't just "snap" and become violent, says de Becker, whose clients include federal government agencies, celebrities, police departments, and shelters for battered women. "There is a process as observable, and often as predictable, as water coming to a boil." Learning to predict violence is the cornerstone to preventing it. De Becker is a master of the psychology of violence, and his advice may save your life."

I couldn't have said it better myself.

This is some of the best, and most qualified advice on how one really can avoid a bummer life.

Nothing like derailing some brevity with some heavity, no?
So let's get back to the high life.

I'm a little taken aback that so few have stepped up for the HTATBL photo contest.
Are the prizes just not awesome enough?
Do I need to sweeten the pot?

The 'redneck foreplay' shirt alone is worth like, 8 dollars.

Alright.. Screw it. You know what? I'm going to go ahead and up the ante, because I know more than four of you have the kind of photos I'm talking about.

Besides my own personal shirt, and a brand new Swobo t-shirt, I'm going to throw in a Swobo/Drunkingham sticker pack.
How does that grab you?
Not really?

I coulda figured that..

Well, the previously offered brand new copy of The Night Marchers 'See You In Magic' for some reason was never presented to that alleycat in San Diego, so I'll throw that in as well.

Have you seen The Night Marchers?

Is it me, or does that John Reis just keep getting better looking?

From Max of the Durango/Brooklyn posse, we received the following communiqué;
(Note- as inspired by a recent Hurl post, from this point forward, correspondences will now be all italicized and what not.)

"Hay Stevil, thnx for the props. The first guy who came to the party brought us beer and said he'd read about it on the bummerlife. Thought I'd send you this shot of my missed attempt to fly away. I rode this bike from brklyn to laguardia airport the other morning after staying up all night; put a foot down at the airport at 6:46 for my 7:15 flight, never had a chance, NBD though, had a nice ride back and then had a sweet job interview since the bike shop fired me the day before re party, (after I'd worked a 24hr shift gettin ready.

Best thing that coulda happened to me I assure you. Yeah I also rocked the shop party after getting fired and they'll probably never see another so nice.
So yeah hopefully I make this flight, out of Newark where I was lost on the last day of the SLowBoken tour. Only fitting. Durango for a week of preparatory stompN! For all the glorious good fortune that's been afforded me over the last year, an overly long subway ride ( my second in NYC in 3 mo.) and a missed flight are a small price to pay. By the by this bike doesn't much fit but it sure gets the job done, and I caught a sweet ride, tucked in the slipstream of a big ol tanker from brklyn up to the queens bridge where I attacked, (actually traffic slowed then I got dropped) still a wicked ride though.
Peas,
slappy"

Max certainly is a bit of an urban guerilla.

It's generally around this time of year that the dirt clumps falling off of my bikes onto my garage floor begins to be a bit more than I can take, so at some point this weekend, in between rain showers, I took care of some sorely neglected Spring cleaning;

Not surprising however, it turns out that they don't make water hot enough to cleanse my bikes of last cross season's shame.

Finally, in response to last week's Walt Whitman essay, our very own Loudass writes;

"I was admiring that brilliant piece by Petie Ngyuen again, and it reminded me of an incident when I was in high school. It was the final semester of my senior year, and I had already been accepted to U.C. Davis, so all I had to do was graduate. I had taken some AP and Honors classes, so I could fail 2 or 3 classes and still have enough credits to graduate. I was taking calculus and I despised it along with all other math. So, I decided that I would fail the class, and would do so in style. On each of the tests we were given, I would work through complex mathematical equations with complete gibberish. Sometimes I would draw a comic instead, or recite a Run DMC or LL Cool J line. My teacher was a nice old man, and when I explained the situation to him, he resigned himself to letting me do what I wanted so long as I didn’t disrupt the class [which was a tall order in itself, as I was constantly being suspended for “disturbances”]. I wish I had kept the tests. Toward the end, I started to put quite a bit of effort into them, and they were lavishly illustrated pieces."

It's because we surround ourselves with go-getters like Loudass that we are on a rocket ride to the top.

As I've said before, it's with a little pinch of over, a dash of out, and you can stick a fork in me, cause I'm done.