No Moore, thanks

December 13, 2017

When I said “dusty,” I meant it. Actually, “powdery” might be more accurate. A popcorn fart has a higher moisture content than the local trails.

I had chores to do yesterday, and plenty of ’em, so I didn’t get out to ride until late in the day.

And that was fine. It was warmish (temps in the mid-50s), but with the sun low in the sky I thought I’d ride trail instead of road, so I pulled the Jones off its hook and kicked up a little dust over toward the Embudo dam.

Seems there was a dust-up of another sort altogether in Alabama. Short-Eyes the Preacher managed to screw the pooch instead of someone’s little girl and thus he will be free to “pursue other opportunities,” as the saying goes.

I’m sure there’s a dog show somewhere that could use a judge. As long as he promises to steer clear of the puppies, that is.

11 o’clock blues

December 12, 2017

Say ‘ello to my leetle fren’, Espeedie Zapatas.

As I finished yesterday’s run I entered El Rancho Pendejo to wild applause and cheers.

I grinned, threw both hands in the air, and finally bowed before remembering that I’d left KUNM on to deter burglars and some pissant orchestra on “Performance Today” was stealing my thunder.

Well, it wasn’t as though I’d set a PR anyway.

And don’t believe your lyin’ eyes. No matter what that photo shows, I was not running in shorts. Well, I was, but they were under tights, and I was rockin’ two long-sleeved tops plus a tuque and gloves, too. I may be crazy, but I’m not insane. Cold out there! Colder than a ticket-taker’s smile at the Ivar Theatre on Saturday night.

Speaking of emotional weather reports, the forecast remains uncertain in Alabama. Talk about putting the vise grips on our mental health. I’m old enough to remember when we sent short-eyes to jail instead of the Senate.

All ’crossed up

December 10, 2017

I managed to take the flowers in a one-rider field. Huzzah, etc.

There’s nothing like a little cyclocross to take your mind off pretty much everything save the few meters of the Earth directly in front of your wheel.

It was chilly in the Duke City this week, and as I revisit the old training log I see that I ran twice and ’crossed twice. Didn’t get an actual road ride in until yesterday, when the temps finally inched back up into the 50s.

Running is a useful alternative to riding the road in Michelin Man kit (or worse, riding the trainer). And cyclocross is a pleasant diversion from all of these things. So I pulled the bottle cages off my favorite Steelman Eurocross, dug up the Sidis with the Time ATAC cleats, and got after it.

The trails that loop around the Sandia Foothills Open Space’s Menaul trailhead parking lot make a pretty good circuit, albeit one without much in the way of flats for motoring, which would be nice for recovery (since I have trouble motoring in my dotage).

The first course I laid out had one too-long uphill gravel run, so I made some revisions for the second outing, awarding myself two shorter runs, one at each end of the circuit. There was too much twisty singletrack, a whole shitload of cactus in various flavors, and some deep gravel that made a couple corners sketchy with 32mm clinchers at 35 psi. And it took me a few go-rounds to remember all my mad skillz from days gone by.

But I never fell over, and I even managed to amuse a couple dog-walkers who apparently had never seen an elderly fella running around wearing a perfectly rideable bike.

Zomby Woof

December 9, 2017

“Never check your Twitter feed before breakfast,” advises the Zomby Woof.

Mister Boo IS the “Zomby Woof.” Especially before that first cup of coffee.

R.I.P., John Lennon

December 8, 2017

John Lennon was murdered 37 years ago today.

“I’d like to say thank you on behalf of the group and ourselves and I hope we’ve passed the audition.”

You did, John; you did.

Sexual Harassment in the Workplace

December 7, 2017

OK, you knew I was gonna dig this one up, yeah? C’mon.

Broken bicycles

December 7, 2017

Carl sent me on a trip down the Tom Waits rabbithole with his tip about a BBC documentary on the man, so blame him for a dose of Waits during Zappadan.

This is from “One from the Heart,” the score for a Coppola flick I don’t believe I ever saw; I have the vinyl around here somewhere.

And pardon my French, but you ain’t heard shit until you’ve heard Tom Waits and Crystal Gayle doing a duet.

 

Jerusalem

December 6, 2017

As Charlie Pierce notes, the Numbnuts-in-Chief has found another puddle of gasoline to chuck his tiki torch into.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a good night? Jesus wept.

• Editor’s note: Here’s the first version of this tune I heard, on the CD of the same name.

Brown shoes don’t make it

December 5, 2017

Roy Moore? Nope. Roy Less, thanks all the same.

She’s my teen-age baby
She turns me on
I’d like to make her do a nasty
On the White House lawn

It’s Day Two of Zappadan 2017.

Bummernacht

December 4, 2017

Now, more than ever.