Whitty sent me this link today.  I’ll let you discover what it is by clicking the link, but you’re mostly looking at the pictures, cuz that guy is the reason for this particular post.  I know I’m going to steer clear of what he’s talking about.

http://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?noseen=1&postid=339037869#post339037869 

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Thanks to Rusty for showing me this one. Spastic Ink is alright in my book.

http://youtube.com/watch?v=RztR4E12dGU

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We are going to die, and that makes us the lucky ones. Most people are never going to die because they are never going to be born. The potential people who could have been here in my place but who will in fact never see the light of day outnumber the sand grains of the Sahara. Certainly those unborn ghosts include greater poets than Keats, scientists greater than Newton. We know this because the set of possible people allowed by our DNA so massively outnumbers the set of actual people. In the teeth of these stupefying odds it is you and I, in our ordinariness, that are here.

Kinda heavy stuff there.  Of course, I can’t help thinking naughty thoughts like, “Where exactly did all those potential people go?”  When compared to grains of sand in the Sahara, I envision armies and armies of pants that stand up by themselves.

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Last night it snowed a bit. It looked like fun, so I jumped on my bike and started making tracks in the parking lot. It just got colder overnight, and when we got here it was crusted over and looked cool, so I thought I’d take some pics of the tracks I’d made last night. Here’s one…

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And there you have it. I won’t go off on the ‘Hawks nearly as hard as Big Jonny likes to off on the Eagles over at DrunkCyclist.com, mainly because I don’t give THAT much of a shit about football, but it would have been neat to see the Seahawks go a little further, or hell, even to the big game.  But they didn’t.  Favre outplayed ‘em plain and simple.

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Dean and I are at the shop, waiting for Andrew to show up because we are going to build up his new rain bike. While waiting around, he sends us a text message.

Fire hot rope of shit

destroys all, leaving nothing

I hate my butthole

Oh my…

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But it’s bedtime, so I’ll put it out there and finish up my rant tomorrow.

http://shop.rockandrepublic.com/fit_guide_men.html

If I were in marketing…

If you have no original thoughts in your head, and lots of money…

People don’t want to know what you think about the world around you, they just want you to agree that they are simply fabulous! Spend a shitload of cash on these items, as they will tell the world that ‘HEY! I too want to fit in, because I’m too afraid to show my true nature for fear it may not be accepted by others whose true nature I don’t know for that very same reason! Or something.’

Actually, I think my rant is finished. That about said it, I think.

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Not because they’re way too stylish or because they cost in the neighborhood of $200 (although…), but because Michael Ball is starting to sound like the biggest of all of the douchebags on the entire planet.

It’s way too late, and I gotta go to bed, but I’m seeing more and more of this guy and I don’t know if I wanna punch him in the nuggets, or if I wanna sit back and watch. Here’s a quick recap for those who don’t follow cycling. Michael Ball owns the Rock and Republic jeans company. Remember Jordache jeans in the 70s? I was too young to want them, but I remember Brooke Shields posed in their ads, so I knew they were the shit. Well Rock and Republic is the new Jordache or some shit like that. Ask Andrew, he’d know… Anyway, this guy knows all about fashion and apparently nothing about bikes or bike racing or the culture or any of that. He just wants to cash in on it. ??? Cash in? On what? Cycling as a sport isn’t sexy like all those other sports you see on TV that have dancers and flashy logos and halftime shows and drivers who only turn left. It’s a bunch of sweaty A-type personalities trying to ride their bicycles faster than the skinny little guy next to them. Oh yeah, and the sport is in the middle of a drug-scandal. As in, everybody in the sport is affected by it. Barry Bonds may be juicing, but that doesn’t mean that nobody else gets to hit a homer, it just means that he will hit more than the next guy. In cycling, the dopers are stronger and faster and the non-dopers just cannot keep up. Simple as that. No level playing field. And since it’s the dopers generally who keep winning races, they are the ones who can afford the ‘medical programs’ that dope them up. And so on, and so on… WHOA!!! Tangent! Anyway, why would some douchebag who sells overpriced Paris Hilton pants for guys want to dump his cash in cycling of all sports? Is he gay? Oh wait…why else would Capt Fashion Pants want to surround himself with sweaty guys in tights? WHOA!!! Another tangent!
So why is Michael Ball a douche? Other than pricing his leg covers in the WAY over $50 range, he seems to think that he can just buy whatever he wants. Meaning entire bike companies and parts manufacturers, and he seems to think that he’ll do it better than the people who have already been doing it for years. I admire confidence, but this guy seems arrogant and clueless. He did mention a year or so ago that he was going to start a pro cycling team that was going to go from literally non-existent to being a team that would be invited to the Tour de France. I thought that to be a bold statement at the time, and he seems full of bold statements.

Yesterday on Drunkcyclist.com was this article. At one point, it’s brought up to him that his team wouldn’t be eligible for the Tour because of its team status, i.e., how it was registered with the governing body. Can you say ‘clerical error’? I can’t, but I can say ‘Majorly Colossal Fuckup’. How does he respond?

“No shit? Well I’ve got look into that right away,” he said with a laugh. “That would be shame if we did get invited [to ProTour caliber events] and we couldn’t go.”

Who’s at the bridge, dumbshit? Gilligan?

Then tonight I read this post. So Adrian Montgomery of Scott USA says it’s more fun to watch it from a distance… I guess that’s good enough for me. Besides, douchebag is gonna punch himself in the nuggets if he keeps this shit up.
Bon appetit

P.S. Andrew…you can wear whatever jeans you see fit to wear. Just as long as we don’t both show up at the German bar wearing the same Ritchey jersey then I’m okay with whatever…

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How could I forget this one?  This christmas seems to be the Video Game Christmas.  Between the Wii and Guitar Hero and Rockband, more people young and old are talking about, and playing, video games.  The Wii, as a console, is all about getting people together in a room and playing the games TOGETHER.  Multiple players at once, the making up of custom characters who look like you, and just the interaction of humans in the same room with you make the Wii a pretty addictive machine.  Dave R bought one of those for christmas.
Whitty bought Rockband.  Holy Norton, here’s another addictive-as-crack game to keep one up past their bedtime!   I play the guitar, and that’s a bad thing as far as this game is concerned.  It’s bad because I think too much about playing in time correctly, which actually makes me suck at the game!  I don’t know if you can change a setting in the options or something, but if you actually hit the notes in time with what you’re hearing from the music, you will have hit them too late for the machine to register and reward you for that.  So you have to hit all the notes a split-second before they sound, which as a player, I have a hard time doing.  As a gamer, I can do it, but because I’m holding a guitar-looking device, I’m a Player and no longer a Gamer.  It’s weird.  I was actually doing much better with the drums than the guitar.  I did get better on the guitar, but it took a number of gin/tonics to get there.  And the next morning, I was back to being better on the drums.  Frustrating as hell.  I’m DYING to get the high score on ANY of those songs, but it’s kinda hard to do when you’re getting booed off the stage and the game boots you back to the main menu.  DAMMIT JIM!

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