If you own this 7 inch record then you have both a veritable gold mine on your hands that about only 50 people in the whole world give a shit about and a history of poor musical taste that is unparalleled. The bass player whose name is Grant gave me this record in 1988. He went on to play in some far more notable projects, but this is the one that, for better or for worse, he will remain inextricably tied to. SRHC.
I encourage any and all to look up attorney John Messina and freely send him boxes of flaming shit.
Make sure that for the previous 24 hours you did nothing but debauch and have impure thoughts. That will make the pain seem that much sweeter.
So many topics to broach, yet so little energy to do so. Just back from visiting the PNW, and riding the bicycles with Evil Opie, the Kona crew and a few others. Hellingham has a network of trails and a community of mountain bikers who have a work ethic unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Good people, and good times.
Now if I can just get my better half to uproot and make the move.
No matter.. Unless the Pacific Crest fault line moves, it will always be there. I mean, when has a earthquake happened where a town was completely drowned? Except for those times the last few years that is… And those other times. Besides those, it rarely happens.
In other news, another RAGBRAI (Rancid Aging Gay Bicyclists Riding Around Iowa) is in the books, and EVIL had a presence again, albeit smaller than in years past. Captain Dave and I have been discussing pooling our money to purchase a pretty sweet mat black, fully loaded motorhome for next year, but two times nothing is still nothing, so we just may end up towing each other in a wagon.
One thing you can be sure of is the wagon with have an imaginary stripper pole in it and at least one can of beer.
Stan- “BU I WAnna Go OVER ThERE to see the.. I THINK That.. I Have YOU SEEN THe THIng oveR There? Is GREAT!- Wait, wheressS My candy? I CANt FINd my canDY.. I dONt know, … Where are wE?…”
Captain Dave- “Shhhh little buddy.. Everything’s gonna be ok.”
Stevil came to Portland and he, Cheever, and myself proceeded to wage thermonuclear war on our livers, by way of backyard fires, bike rides, and something called “Circulus”.
The Circulus is a curious thing housed in PDW’s space in NE Portland. A circular wooden velodrome at an insane pitch ridden by folks on BMX bikes. It were a fine event and yinz shoulda been there if’n you wasn’t. Lots of crashing, lots of hilarity. As the beers flowed, the gaps in racing lengthened, the crashes more frequent. A wheel was bent. A gal hit her head. Then, all three of us managed to get yelled at by almost everyone in the place, especially Stan Beaver, who drew the ire of many folks. But, that’s par for the course. As I’ve cited numerous times before, when Stan Beaver is in full effect, it’s where Kung Fu and Autism meet. A silly sight for a silly night.
There was something on the order of 8,000 cans of beer consumed, and Sunday morning found Evil HQ’s littered with bodies in all rooms. The morning hangover ride to the Nite Hawk was our only choice, where bloody mary’s and cans of Hamm’s helped soften the blow of the collective hangover, which, given it’s size, could have anaesthetised the entire population of Guam.
That was a fun weekend, and now it’ll take the better part of this entire week to recover. May as well go ride ze bike and sweat the funkiest sweat in the world.
That will be all.
Thank you for your time and consideration on this matter.
There must be some really good porn on, or his hand is stuck in Cheever’s zipper again.
Whatever the case, there is a bicycle related throwdown in Portlandia this coming weekend, where there will be o’plenty of fit boys and girls in stretchy pants riding around in circles and squares.
Sign up, play your cards right and you might walk away with some loot and bragging rights. If racing’s not your bag, bring the family and a picnic. With any luck you’ll meet some tramp or man-whore and get laid behind a dumpster.
