Michael Jackson seems to keep on being busily and profitably dead without my help, so I went back to work for VeloNews.com and did a few chores around the rancho between bouts of translating poorly from a French wire service while all our English-speakers fucked off somewhere, girding their loins for the Tour.
The garage now looks more like a bike shop than a toxic waste dump. I can walk from front to rear and back without barking a shin on something, and all the two-wheelers are hanging neatly from hooks, barring the Vespa, which has a prime spot on the deck, right next to the lawn mower.
Herself, meanwhile, got all medieval on the backyard greenery after a short bike ride. The June rains have turned the place into something out of “Platoon,” and it was getting tough to walk from the back door to the alley trash can without some vegetable grabbing you by the ankles and whispering, “Me love you long time, GI.”
The Turk, as usual, did fuck-all. Friggin’ hippie. Nobody ever told him that the revolution is over, and we lost.
Mad Blog Media 
You poor man, you don’t have to put up with two kittens born Mother’s day. They are just discovering the joys of gravity and they are scornful of same. Must watch where I put my feet, they delight in a perfect intersection.
Ditto on the greenery. I gave up trying to tame the back yard. After all, I’m old and handicapped. Still putting on a show with the front. The neighbors would talk otherwise.
Keep up the good work, I enjoy your prose.
No shocker about MJ still being dead. He looked like a noon-walking cadaver when he was somewhat alive. If you could qualify addictive surgery as being alive. A true sign of the times.
I’ve got a Siamese version of Turk running the show around here. More entertaining than a visit from the French dope testers.
BTW, RIP Billy Mays.
I’ve managed to take over most of the garage at our place while in the process of unpacking the new tandem and moving selected parts between bikes. Looks like I am running a bike shop.
Speaking of wheels up, did anyone else see Paul Krugman’s latest essay in the NY Times?
“Betraying the Planet”
I am becoming more firmly convinced that we will follow the Easter Island crew into relative oblivion, probably within the next couple centuries as billions of people fight for diminishing resources and as climate change forces us to try to resettle in someone else’s back yard.
Guess that it really is almost time to hijack that starship.
“Nobody ever told him that the revolution is over, and we lost.”
I don’t know. Looks like we are having our own, reverse, thermidorian reaction now.