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.

"Greetings from Minneapolis,

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.

...And one from Hambone;

"White Ninja Comics....

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...

Landon also wrote to us;

"A sweet intersection of many, many good things."

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.

Jack writes;

"Stevil,

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.

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:

Something much more suitable for the debutante in your life.
It is better not to watch how it is done.

El Gato"

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...'

You know... For an example...

Hipsterly yours,
S.K.

No doubt. Happy, hairy birthday Emma. Heres your present.

CFO writes;

"-'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.

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

Bicycle Film Festival
Hollywood, CA
Saturday, July 19th at 5:00pm

Bicycle Film Festival
San Francisco
Saturday, July 26th at 7:00pm

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;

Or parhaps this shot that Dan sent in;

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.

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.

Even if your friends have a clumsy way of showing it.

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-

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.

Back to bacon....

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;

"The orange wall of hate better be getting a cut of this action.."

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 weather 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?

Anyhow..its Wednesday. You know what to do.

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.

And now finally, as (sortof) promised many months ago, with thanks to DPow! its our pleasure to bring to you baseballs best moustaches.

Alright- enoughs enough. Im outta here.

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.

Do you know who else emailed us? Alex did;

"Stevil,

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.

Press play, and wait for the magic to happen.

-Ben"

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.