On the eve of a new year

Soon 2008 will be in our collective rear-view mirror, and good riddance, says I. Adios, motherfucker. For the first time since January 2000 the world can look forward to a United States that isn’t hagridden by a clique of junior-varsity fascists bent on making the world safe for their bidness buddies and a bloody nightmare for everyone who doesn’t know their Secret Handshake.

I don’t envy Barack Obama. Sure, he asked for the gig, but cleaning up after The Decider has to be the worst janitorial job since Heracles tackled the Augean Stables. We’re not talking a fresh coat of paint and some air freshener here — more like dump truck after dump truck full of stinking sludge and toxic waste.

So when you’re celebrating this evening, raise a glass to the president-elect. His new year is not likely to be a happy one.

And on a lighter note, for a look back at the year in cycling, pop on over to VeloNews.com. I’ve posted all my editorial cartoons from 2008.

News you can’t use

If David Wright still had a wife he’d have someone to tell him he is insane for wanting to piss away a few mil’ on Singular, a magazine targeting the single crowd with “advice, travel suggestions and profiles of unmarried people who travel to Tonga, collect vintage sex manuals and play polo when not performing acupuncture.”

The only people writer Alana Semuels quoted in this Los Angeles Times article are over 50. Yeah, there’s a growing demographic for you; 50-somethings with money to burn. How ’bout a sister publication — Shit for Brains: The Journal Proving That Wealth Can’t Buy Smarts?

Speaking of the endless human capacity for self-delusion, Laura Bush and Condi Rice say history will reveal the true greatness of the Bush presidency. Uh huh. Here’s Steve Benen at Political Animal:

It must be comforting for Bush, Rice, and other top officials in the administration to think this way. It’s no doubt frustrating to wake up every morning, and go to work knowing that you’re reviled by most of the public, here and around the world. If you can convince yourself that you’ll be appreciated years from now, it probably takes the edge off.

But that doesn’t make it true. Indeed, wishful thinking about history’s judgment, in the midst of widespread failures in every aspect of government — foreign policy, economic policy, constitutional policy, domestic policy, environmental policy — borders on delusional.

Remember the end of the Clinton administration? How the Repugs were gloating about the adults finally being in charge for a change? Whatever happened to those wise old heads, anyway? This crowd apparently still believes in Santa Claus, the tooth fairy and the Easter bunny — and thinks all three of them are retarded.

iToons for iPhones?

Coming from a magazine to a cell phone near you?
Coming from a magazine to a cell phone near you?

As newspapers circle the bowl, features syndicates circle the wagons and think about new delivery systems for the comic strip. Some strips are already archived online, with social networking add-ons and RSS feeds, but the next big thing is likely to be comics delivered straight to your phone, says Uclick CEO Douglas Edwards in a chat with The New York Times. Writes Leslie Berlin:

In the last two months, Uclick has placed several bets on the iPhone, which Mr. Edwards says is a good platform for comics because it has a relatively large screen that makes text easier to read. Uclick sells comics-themed wallpaper and animations for cellphones. In November, the company began selling graphic novels on iTunes.

Last week, Andrews McMeel Universal introduced a new version of its free GoComics Web site, optimized for the iPhone. GoComics has many of the same features as Comics.com, as well as a pay-to-post area for emerging cartoonists called Comics Sherpa. Mr. Edwards says GoComics is profitable but declines to give specific figures.

Should be interesting. The only cartoonist I follow regularly is Pat Oliphant, and his work is hard enough to decipher on a 22-inch Viewsonic monitor, especially the snide asides from Puck the penguin (who is Oliphant speaking for himself rather than on behalf of an editorial board). Edwards may be able to deliver Oliphant to my phone, but that’s no guarantee that I’ll be able to figure out what he’s on about.

i m bending u over lol

Like to text, do you? You may like it less after reading this story from Randall Stross, a business prof at a Cali’ college, who reports what carriers aren’t eager to tell you about texting — like, that it costs them bupkis but they charge you through the snoot anyway.

Happily, as a certified geezer and AARP member, I don’t text, so AT&T has to find another, more circuitous route into my wallet. The $99 refurbished iPhone 3G, now . . . I can feel those cold corporate fingers exploring my lint-filled pockets even as we speak.

Oh, no, there goes Tokyo

Go, go, Godzilla!
Go, go, Godzilla!

Back when I was a man, instead of whatever it is I am now, winter was just another season, albeit one that required more clothing. I’d kit up like the Michelin Man and go out for a road ride, or maybe a mountain-bike jaunt. If the weather was truly foul, I’d settle for a quick hour of cyclo-cross. Got to keep that edge, I’d think. Racing season is just around the corner.

But I quit racing several years ago, and these days I find less joy in a frozen, slushy outing that ends in a bike wash followed by laundry detail. I’d ski or snowshoe, if we had any snow, but unlike the San Juan Mountains the Front Strange is woefully light on precipitation. And my idea of a good time is decidedly not sharing the highways with a few jillion of my closest friends en route to a ski weekend in the mountains. These silly sods can’t even drive properly on dry roads.

So I run. It’s shameful, I know, but it’s also simple. Pull on the tights, long sleeves, cap, gloves and shoes, and off you go (with a courtesy call to the National Earthquake Information Center in Golden to let them know that Godzilla is on the loose again).