With little analysis needed to gain a semblance of order, things - affairs - are in a mighty state of decline in every facet of the Boner Ghost's wee bubble of existence: not a post for two long weeks and a RepubliKKKan takeover of the Senate make for muy mucho beer abuse; an abbreviated obfuscation of a descending spiral that only miles of single-track can begin to quell. But, in the event that I win the HPT 'cross this Saturday night in Topuka, in the shadow of the headquarters of Brownbackistan, let the angels of Oregon High sing the praises of the Wholly One.
Over the last fortnight or so, the riding has been plentiful, albeit mostly of the solo variety, give or take an 8Lumens caving trip and a few random 'cross races, as well as hero dirt at Swope and BuRP. It would seem, to the third-party viewer, that a dry spell of sorts is upon us, a standard boom and bust cycle that is dredging up an acrimonious flavor of separation anxiety among the mt. bike community of the greater KC area. But who am I to judge the approximate failures of others; no one knows foundering defeat like yours liarly...
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