Yonder come the Boogieman, doin’ his best.
Do you believe in the Boogieman?
Boogie, man
October 18, 2017Hey, baby … live around here?
October 18, 2017
A little color off the front patio this morning.
Don’t just look up there — look down, too.
You might just see a migrating tarantula.
Well, he’s probably not a migrant. He’s on a paseo, looking for love.
News to me, as they say. I exchanged greetings with another cyclist yesterday and she said she’d seen a tarantula, and so had another trail user, so being of a curious nature I went home and asked Kindly Old Doc Google “WTF?”
Now I have one more thing to watch out for when I’m shredding the gnar. As if sharp rocks, cacti and buzzworms aren’t enough.
One Marin, hold the fire, please
October 15, 2017
Going down. …
There are days — approximately seven per week — when I’m delighted that I no longer work for a daily newspaper.
… and going up.
Instead of following fires, terrorism and ruthless, blithering idiocy for fun and profit, I get to ride my bikey bike.
Or, in this case, someone else’s bikey bike.
The Marin Nicasio is next in the review pipeline, and while product manager Chris Holmes watches copters chatter in and out of the Petaluma airport I get to pedal one of his products up hill and down dale here in the Duke City.
There will be more of this sort of thing today. I may not work for a newspaper anymore, but I still have deadlines.
El mejor
October 14, 2017
The mayor-to-be Back in the Day®, with a much lighter ball in the air, and only one of them, too.
Back in the Seventies, after Chris Coursey and I had completed our majors in beer with minors in journalism and gone to work for an unremarkable Colorado daily, neither of us had the slightest inkling that he would one day be the mayor of Dresden.
If there’s any good news to be found here, it’s this: Chris has already been to hell and back, and more than once, too. Santa Rosa is in good hands.
Back to the future
October 13, 2017
Check the date: March 10, 1989. A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away.
That’s the cover of the first VeloNews in which a cartoon by Your Humble Narrator appeared.
It practically goes without saying that it featured the Old Guy Who Gets Fat in Winter.
The Old Guy Who Gets Fat in Winter, v1.0.
How long ago was this? Well, President Ronald Reagan had just delivered his farewell address, Ted Bundy had taken his ride in Mr. Edison’s rocking chair, the last Soviet troops were leaving Afghanistan, and Eurosport was debuting in France.
The previous year, Felix Magowan, John Wilcockson and David Walls had acquired what was then called Velo-news from founders Barbara and Robert George.
After moving the operation to Boulder they declined to hire me as managing editor (a wise move). Time passed, as it will, and then in 2008 Inside Communications Inc. sold out to Competitor Group Inc. (not so wise in my opinion, but you know what they say about opinions).
Wilcockson — who would later get a ruthless, senseless and unceremonious heave-ho, along with Charles “Live Update Guy” Pelkey — wrote about the history and acquisition of Inside Communications here.
Il Fattini as he came to appear further on down the road.
As for me, I quit, was coaxed into returning, and then quit again, that last time for good.
But I always kept an eye on the joint, the way you sometimes bicycle past a ramshackle house you used to live in, shaking your head at the carelessness of the new owners.
And so did one member of that Original Trio — Magowan — who has repo’d the joint, with Pocket Outdoor Media partners Greg Thomas and Steve Maxwell.
Included in the sale are VeloPress, which just published Nick Legan’s “Gravel Cycling,” and the magazines Triathlete and Women’s Running, along with their digital counterparts.
“Despite the well-known challenges in print today, our team is thrilled to have the chance to rebuild these iconic titles as well as their sister digital operations,” Magowan told Bicycle Retailer and Industry News. “We have ambitious growth plans, and want to restore these brands to their historical industry leadership positions as quickly as possible.”
Here’s hoping Friday the 13th turns out to be a lucky day for Felix, The Trio v2.0, and for VeloNews (turn that number upside down just for luck, guys). Meanwhile, for anyone with the flashback blues, here’s John Prine.
The Bravo Foxtrot Hotel
October 12, 2017
Every day a little less green and a little more gold.
Thursday has its roots in the Old Norse for “Thor’s Day” (thōrsdagr), and it was definitely hammer time round El Rancho Pendejo today.
I burned a bunch of daylight polishing the penultimate “Mad Dog Unleashed” screed of 2017 for Bicycle Retailer and Industry News, then scribbled a “Shop Talk” cartoon for the same outfit. No work, no eating, as the Zen master Hyakujo has taught us.
This shot makes the Elena Gallegos Open Space look a lot less active than it was.
Then it was 90 minutes on the Voodoo Nakisi, chasing myself around the dusty trails of the Elena Gallegos Open Space. Next to nobody in there yesterday and today it looked like the Big Eye at rush hour. Go figure. Are there no prisons? No workhouses?
The Boo requires a variety of medications and we were short one, so off to the vet I did go, flushing still more dinero down the medical loo that is our smelly little one-eyed pee-weasel.
And I checked in with friends in Santa Rosa to gauge the state of affairs out there. Not good, as you probably already know. Nearly 3,000 homes destroyed, 29 people dead, and both numbers expected to rise.
Among the houses incinerated was one belonging to the late Charles M. Schulz, creator of the fabled “Peanuts” strip.
My man Merrill is planning another cross-country run before settling into his new life on the Left Coast and hopes to pass through the Duke City this time around, so I’ll get a full report sometime next week from a former New York Times man. Right now he’s couch-surfing at the mayor’s digs and resting up for the final push.
And my old buddy Miz Lo is hiding from the smoke down Petaluma way but hopes to return to the Pink Palace soon. She knows many people who won’t be so fortunate.
Hell on earth
October 10, 2017
The peloton prepares for a training ride from Santa Rosa to Hopland back in 2006. The mayor-to-be is at left, and the retiree-to-be is in the middle. The unemployable at right you already know.
You never like to see your friends on the hot seat, and my old bro’ Chris Coursey is on a very warm squativoo indeed.
Chris is mayor of Santa Rosa, Calif., which abruptly went from a pretty close approximation of heaven on earth to something else entirely on Monday.
You can survey the damage courtesy of The Press Democrat, where Chris spent a couple decades as a reporter and columnist. He and I go way back, to the Seventies — roommates at the University of Northern Colorado in Greeley, we later worked for what then was called the Gazette Telegraph in Bibleburg before I left for Tucson and Chris split for Santa Rosa.
Chris spoke about the fire to his old paper, and to NPR, too; you can listen to that report here.
Another of our old Gazette pals, Merrill Oliver, recently retired from The New York Times and bought a place in (wait for it) Santa Rosa. He’s in transit — last I heard he was in Denver, which is too cold to burn at the moment — but clearly, this is not going to be the joyous change of venue he had been anticipating. I’m told Merrill’s new home was not among those destroyed, but it seems like early days yet, so keep your fingers crossed on his behalf.
We have other friends in the area — Gazette and Press Democrat alum Mike Geniella and his wife T, up Hopland way; Lo Esparza and Scot Nicol in Santa Rosa; Patrick Brady of Red Kite Prayer; and many, many more. Here’s hoping everyone comes out of this OK. Stuff you can always replace, but friends are always in short supply.
Gasbag
October 8, 2017
No snow here yet, but the trees know it’s fall.
No, not that one.
Last night Herself and I were walking The Boo around sunset when I noticed an object in the northwestern sky.
“If that’s a balloon,” I observed, “it’s not tethered. That sucker is on the move.”
And so it was. The gasbag sailed right over El Rancho Pendejo at dark-thirty, bound for the East Mountains and points east, as part of the 22nd America’s Challenge. I hope the pilot got over the Sandias without incident. There’s more than gold in them thar hills. Yogi and Boo-Boo would dearly love a pic-a-nic basket, especially if it’s delivered.
Meanwhile, as you can see from the photo up top, the trees are turning with all possible haste. And there’s a winter-storm watch in effect for the Front Strange.
Lucky for us we’re residents of the Duke City, where we’re looking at a sunny stretch of 60s and 70s.
Ready, AIM, fired
October 6, 2017
AIM, the groundbreaking instant-messenger service from AOL, will be buried on Dec. 15, 2017.
I relied heavily on AOL when I went freelance back in 1991, and used its instant messenger religiously once it became a thing. It was lots cheaper than long-distance calls on our landline — remember those? — and thus the far-flung crew that assembled the Boulder-based journal of competitive cycling whose name eludes me relied upon it to stay in touch from their various corners of the globe.
Today, the only person I still “chat” with via AIM is Charles “Live Update Guy” Pelkey, a PC geek. Most of my chat pals these days are Mac users, and we stay in touch via Apple’s Messages app or simple texts.
And when it comes to assembling the fake news, your modern rumormonger uses an entirely different toolbox, as John Branch of The New York Times explains.
Any number of alternatives to AIM sprang up over the years, but I expect the main suspect in this murder most foul is Facebook. Just one more reason to steer clear of that outfit.
• A eulogy for AIM from Robinson Meyer at The Atlantic.
Hee haw
October 5, 2017
Oh, yeah, it’s fall, all right.
OK, it’s been far too dark around here lately, and it’s looking darker today as another storm system rolls through.
So, to lighten the mood a bit, let’s have a look at a story about a 69-year-old progressive sportscaster from Texas (!) who has a miniature donkey named … no, it’s too good to just give it away. You’ll have to read the story. You’re welcome.
Words and pictures on the DogPage © 2016 by Patrick O'Grady/Mad Dog Media. All rights and most lefts reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, redistributed, laser-printed, photocopied, crocheted into a sampler, knitted into sweater, tattooed on a floozy, spray-painted on an overpass, tapped out in Morse code, sublimated onto a jersey, shared in whispers in the back row of an adult theater, shouted from the rooftops, scored for tuba and banjo, translated into Squinch, or communicated via telepathy without the permission of and hefty payment to a heavily armed, whisky-addled cyclo-cross addict who knows your IP address. Bonehead shysters and the simpletons who employ them, take note: The opinions expressed on the DogPage contain toxic quantities of hyperbole, satire, parody and humor. Pah-ro-dee. Hyyuuu-mor. Acquire a sense of same or read at your own risk.
