When our son was born 9 years ago I was given an ultimatum by my wife: Choose one 'adventure' sport and do it 2 or less times a week. Before this glorious announcement, I was whitewater kayaking at least once a week and mt. biking 2-3 days in that same period - blessed times to be sure, but my boss would have none of it due in no small part to the fact that she was staying home with him the entire day. ( which lasted for 2.5 years, and was the only smart thing to do in my humble opinion) So I garnered the strength and decided to let my 3 kayaks begin to gather dust-bunnies and spiderwebs; focusing instead on riding mt. bikes with any free time I could muster. I felt sorry for all the strip clubs in Arkansas losing my abundant patronage during my weekend rampages of the Buffalo and Mulberry rivers; my favorite had only one arm with which she waxed the pole better than Mr. Clean. But before I tell any more lies I must confess that this insane deluge of moisture has me on edge for many reasons, not least of which the strange timing - fucking August for Devil's sake?
Greenland just hit an all-time record high temperature of 78.6 degrees Fahrenheit, and the North Pole is literally under water at this point: any further questions Republicans? I fully realize that we, the proudly 'voluntarily retarded' Americans, have little use for science these days, but good Gaia, wake the holy fuck up people. We are literally the only country in the G20 to have such archaic and nonsensically biased views on the damage we are doing to our planet -I have never been so ashamed to be a citizen of the US...a sorry, pitiful state of affairs to be sure...
At least I could bring myself to not drown my sorrows yet again in the poisonous blood of barley last night, instead opting to watch "Seven Psychopaths" - a flawed yet funny movie with quite a few memorable characters and scenes: if you can handle the over-the-top violence it is well worth your time. (it's no Blue Velvet, though)
I still might get out and ride on the street tonight just to get some miles on my flabolicious legs, for when in times of need I feel the need for speed, even if it is on a 45lb Fatbike flying down the 31st St. hill at 1a.m.
King Queefer out....
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