Thursday, April 17, 2014

Sassyfrass: Bless his heart.

     A mid-end week downdate, similar to the euphemistic, broken terms such as 'midwest' and 'non-racist Republican', and completely devoid of meaning or relevance; here we stay again, barreling toward the lowest position possible, one in which every remote facet of life makes sense only when Lance Armstrong changes a flat in front of a Surly banner….Dada is back folks; hipsters get your urinals out and write R. Mutt on your sublimely parted coiffure.

On the odd occasion that I give a single flying fuck about the rules that govern professional cycling, or any other sport for that matter, I choose Jif: crunchy and creamy in the same bite. Let it be known that Outside Magazine is alive today because of The Mellow Johnny appearing on their cover at least *347 times over the last 15 years, a tacit endorsement of the doping that everyone with .001% of a brain knew was taking place on every single pro team. I have always been a proponent of the 'live and let cheat' mythos, because of reasons. Do we really need a debate on the merits of drug testing et al? No.
Athletes and the advertisers behind them will always push the envelope of legality and glory, and if I had been born with their Vo2 maximums, I would in no way be any more moral or grandiose in my approach to winning: when everyone else is doping, 27th place is relegated to the cow trough of history. So, as per usual, I have taken a long walk for a short jump, and after watching the world's greatest egomaniac ( next to Oprah and Ted Cruz ) change a flat to keep Outside alive this past week, I can only say that I never cared one iota whether or not he was a crook: winning The Tour in the manner he did - while desecrating cycling traditions - was impressive; sad to say to be sure, but nonetheless bringing corporatized cycling into the American mainstream.

In more lesserer baddery news, we finally got our panties wet here in KC this last Sunday, but Swope was ready to ride last night after sun and wind soaked up all the sexy juices covering the rocky goodness above the Blue River: Hero dirt in every category. The Mike of White and I were the only ones with giners of fortitude to show up for an insane amount of speed, blood and upper-body brutalizing; team 8 Lumens is becoming a cult of 2 I'm afraid to report, though there was a gravel-grinder last Saturday I here tell...

And, finally,  speaking of giners and fancy bikes, it seems that The Pirate - Capt. Sparrow to his mistresses - has officially made the move to Ft. Collins and has relocated Oddity Cycles to the offices of Black Sheep Cycles as pictured below…what an incredible journey for a KCMO legend in his own right, and I say that only because some are destined for greatness, others for liver failure and prison.

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