The last time we spoke, I was convalescing from an attack of the angry beer Gods and their many malted minions after a vainglorious "ride" known as the "Into the Chasm"....and as fate would have it, my blood began rejecting any substance with an a.b.v of less than 9.5% after a mega-healthy meal at The Westside Local on Wednesday, plummeting me into a sickness that is still attempting to grab my nutsack with golf shoes 5 days later. That meant no work, let alone trail riding and a Niquil-induced haze that can only be compared to a bad acid trip at a Grateful Dead tribute band event...
I even missed out on a chance to go with the Eponymous Team 8 Lumens to Single Speed USA up in Minnesota over the weekend. But at least I was coherent enough to stop by El Blanco Miguel's den of sin and drop off some Taddihogg Cycling Hats - taddihogg.com - as well as the hottest accessory of the summer, a pile of stinking, shit-stained Captain Cuntwat stickers. Now, you the layman/woman might think that this development somehow is indicative of the slow deterioration of morals here in the land of the Freetard, but I can assure you, young Jedi, the poop hit the proverbial, bladed cooling device long ago indeed.
I myself attribute the entirety of the Decay of Western Civilization to one thing and one thing only: The Chicken Nugget. As you take a minute or 30 to let this enlightened intellectual intrigue settle in, I will take a slight musical break and re-energize my failing brain with a hit of The Young Widows' "The Muted Man"....OK class, let's get back to work. I will not satisfy your biases with a rant on Frankenfood or the Fast-Foodification of our society, nor will I embark on a lengthy diatribe concerning factory farming or the obesity epidemic we are facing down in this country, unable to see our erect members over our bulging bellies. I would love nothing more to bash the biggest dooshtard of a President we have ever had in this country -Ronald Reagan - and his ridiculous Supply Side economic theories that never even came close to "trickling down". Instead, by focusing my attention, however briefly, on the insanity that is the Chicken Nugget, I can sum up the degradation of the American Nightmare in as few words as possible. Simply put, the fused, chicken-parts-waste-cockroach combination that is served over a billion times daily is analogous to what we have become as Americans: faux humans, chopped up and dumbed down into nothing that resembles the original product from which we came; and that we have allowed this to happen to us voluntarily by being offered 3 dipping sauces as a reward is even more disgusting than the liquid bag of "meat" from the factory floor. In other words, we are all mooing at the salt-lick of stupidity, awaiting the next bio-engineered concoction to make our flanks the juiciest they can be.
But as the delusion grows into reality the least we can do, as the last few cognizant zombies left amongst the Jellyfish of the Right, is ride our cocking brains out at festivals such as SSUSA. And even though I was surely greatly missed at said event, the Boner Ghost legend lives on, occupying the sordid heights he so greatly deserves, looking down from every street sign in a 3 mile radius on the drunkards that are too IQ challenged to put gears on their bikes.
A satisfied costumer of unknown origin, replete with a new Taddihogg Cycling hat
and the accouterment du jour.
KC DC representing with Goat-Raping panache...
Queefer Queen out...
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