Freedom from dumb.

 

     I have yet to experience any episodes from season two of 'True Detective' - and the reviews have been mostly lackluster - so it behooves me to use a quote from the first season, "Time is a flat circle", which is a nearly direct translation of Nietzsche's concept of the eternal return which, for this format of discussion we shall use the Cliffnotes for Freetards version: the life you have lived, you must live it as if you will repeat it exactly again and again. In other words, can we all look back at our lives at any given point and be satisfied/happy/proud of all the 'decisions/choices' we have made? And, conversely, would we live that life in a manner that is an exact, literal copy of itself? The last 10 days or so of political activity, spurred by the Supreme Court and State Houses of southern states - and the terrorist attack on the historic church in Charleston - have been overwhelming to say the least, as I have been a vehement leftist activist since I was 17 years old. I have never once wavered over the last   two plus decades in my support for human rights and basic economic justice for all Americans, even though it is an intellectual challenge on a good day to have the fortitude to face the anti-analytical bias that so infuses the areas south of the Mason-Dixon line. Insofar as one can ignore the progressive path that this country is paving, it is akin to bashing one's cranium into a brick wall living in Brownbackistan, surrounded by Social-Luddites who seem to make it their raison d'etre to cling to the artifice of false and fabricated histories, as well as unsupported fears that are not unlike ghost stories told to an under-developed 6 year old. Here in the center of our country, time is not a flat circle insomuch as it is a flat piece of parchment that is being folded into oblivion by the power of persuasion coming at it from the saneness and lucidity of the coastal wrecking-balls of reason...

Before I allow me, myself and I to collapse into a solipsistic daymare, let us return to the source of all frivolity and furtiveness that girds our luscious loins with the juices of manna: the BikeyCycle of off-road proportions...

..too bad you didn't get one of the 100 Oddity Cycles SlingTwats. I'm trading mine for a Donald Trump wig.

It's not the altitude, just my sandy bologna curtains.

If it were possible to cram/stuff/jam/insert an entire year's worth of exuberance into one, single half-fortnight, then I, Princess Boner Ghost have attained Zen; for when I clock back into work tomorrow morning, there will be enough lasting mammaries to get me through a tall stack of 97 degree days on the grind...

I will not attempt an annotated tirade concerning the first part of my week, wherein my son and father and I attempted in vain to win a battle royale against Tropical Storm Bill: we had booked 3 days of deep-sea fishing in the Gulf of Mexico -our base camp being a hotel on the beach 45 miles south of Galveston. Suffice it to say that we got 1.5 days of sun and salt water before running away from 12 inches of rain and a 5 foot storm surge, eventually getting to Houston where Spirit Airlines ( fucking dickunts ) decided at the last minute to cancel our flight...which forced my hand to rent a Toyota Yaris and drive 12 hours straight, back to Kansas City so I could keep my schedule tighter than a gnats ass in order to get to Fort Collins for the Oddity Summer Camp/8Lumens Orgy -aka The Dirty Seanza 2015. 

We were able to get my new Oddity Twerker 29+ completed in time for 3 days of glorious single-track and mountain highs, breaking in the Stinky Pinky with a vengeance heretofore unknown in the First World. 

Burnsey, aka SS Pirate, owner and CEO of Oddity Cycles, showing us plebeians how to get to Twerk.

El Blanco Miguel trying to steal James' kickballs VW - the genius behind Black Sheep Cycles to be exact...

...speaking of Black Sheep masterpieces.

And what would a visit to Fort Collins be without a stop into Moonmen, who tried, albiet unsuccessfully, to kill us flatlanders on their weekly Thursday Night Lights ride.

Butt, let us return to the Cot Dayam goodness that are the trails here in KC -which are finally all open - such as the above and below pictures of myself and Whitey Mikey at Swope Park, where the inaugural SSKC will take place August 1st...

Let us give thanks and break bread in honor of the one and only ChasmGasm, for without his *68 office shits a day, this event would never have cum to fruition; it will without a doubt be the crowning achievement of mt. biking culture here in KC, and will showcase our scene with a near-illegal fortitude of bonerific special sauce...

Make me (less) wet.

    A new bike can bring only one of two situations to the fore: plentiful hero dirt on the trails; or a complete near-repeat of the Great Flood of 1993, wherein every trail within 100 miles is as sloppy as an orgy at the KY factory. That being said, since my Pivot Les Fat 29+ was completed nearly a month ago, I have had the tumultuous luxury of riding said steed enough to realize her potential, and wake up covered in drool from a daydream wherein I am able to ride a full 3 hours or so on dry single-track, wherever that may be. As I type these very words, yet another set of storms is approaching from the West, alleviating any drying effect the 90 degree sun/wind combination of today had on terra firma. This is literally the first time since moving back to Kansas City from Portland in 1998 that I have logged more miles on the road in a month than in the forests...granted these 'roadie' hours are to the pub/party and back, but pedaling is pedaling, even though my upper-body is a flab-fest of mooberific proportions.

...my hometown of Emporia Kansas saw its share of flooding last week as well. The Cottonwood river went out of its banks and into the Flint Hills, nearly derailing the 10th Dirty Kanza. 

The latest installment of our

8Lumens sticker collection will be available soon on our Big Cartel site...

Butt now, let us convene the panel discussion on the simple fact that our roots as Puritans in this Cuntry are still a formidable foe in our year of the Lard, 2015:

I'm not sure which of my 'friends' on FaceFuck reported the above picture, taken so artfully by Mr. Fisky, but I can say with a veracity close to 100% that it might be the greatest helping of ThanksTaking Day hilarity I have yet to witness. Yes, I have been 36-48 hour banned from the Book of Faces 3 times now, but this photo takes the cake, the cookies, the donuts and the Twinkies and makes a concomitant sample that borders on perfection. Oh Hell, in the end -and there is a predictable end - I will get my own reality TV show that popularizes the notion that over-educated men with a 4th-grade mentality always win in the end, even if they were not part of a 36 member family tree that has only 2 branches.