This Belgian doesn’t waffle

April 24, 2011 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 11 Comments

Easter bouquet — Not much of a snow, but we'll take it. Good for the May flowers, don't you know.

It snowed last night. I know this for a fact because (a) there was snow on the ground this morning, and (2) I was out walking around in it at 1:30 a.m. with a big black flashlight, looking for the bogeyman.

A neighbor happened to be awake and heard a sound she didn’t like, so she rang us up and out I went in my Ten Thousand Waves kimono and a pair of Teva sandals. I left the .357 Magnum hand cannon indoors because there hadn’t been any reports of any terrorist Muslim floorboards lurking in the neighborhood and a 10-inch Mag-Lite makes a pretty good blackjack.

Anyway, I took a quick look around and didn’t see anything, not even an Easter bunny freezing his eggs off. So back inside and to bed I went, and this morning I see Philippe Gilbert is enjoying a very happy Easter indeed. Go thou and do likewise.

Holy warrior slays Muslim auto’s floorboard

April 23, 2011April 23, 2011 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 12 Comments

Koran-burning assclown Terry Jones shot and killed a Muslim terrorist floorboard in his own car Thursday night after leaving a TV station in Southfield, Michigan, where it must have been a very slow news day indeed.

Jones, who is clinging to his 15 minutes of fame the way Satan clings to his grudge against Heaven, apparently suffered a premature discharge while getting into the passenger seat of his car. The floorboard was pronounced dead at the scene. He and his driver both bore valid Florida concealed-weapons licenses and were not charged.

Jesus, isn’t it bad enough that this yokel managed to become a pastor? Shouldn’t one have to meet a higher standard for carrying a concealed weapon than for distributing mythology? And a .40 caliber? Puh-leeze. Everyone knows that the standard-issue sidearm for a Christian Soldier is the M1911 .45.

So, remember, kiddies: Check those safeties, and never leave a live round in the chamber. Oh, yeah — and while you’re at it, try not to be a pulpit-pounding peckerwood who looks like someone Super-Glued an ermine weasel to his chops while he was passed out after chugging the communion wine.

• The magic show continues: Praying for rain in Texas, the War on Easter and how teaching evolutionary biology turns your kids queer. Father O’Grady orders penance of two Bloody Marys and one Hello Dolly for Steve Benen at Political Animal.

Pirates and parking lots

April 21, 2011April 21, 2011 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 19 Comments

Allergy season, April weather and a blizzard of deadlines have conspired to distract me from my main purpose in life, to wit, devaluing the other, more prestigious properties along the Infobahn. (“Jesus, what is it with that Mad Dog Media guy? Weeds all over the place, paint’s peeling and the goddamn racket coming from the joint at all hours. …”)

Also, we finally got around to watching the 2010 documentary “Inside Job” and it left me thinking more about sticks and stones than words, which as we all know cannot really hurt anyone. Jesus H. Christ. It makes you want to cash out what’s left of the old portfolio, close out the 401 (k) and the savings/checking accounts, buy gold and guns, and bury the former in the back yard while keeping watch over it with the latter.

To drain the bloodlust, watch “The Parking Lot Movie,” another 2010 documentary, this one about a gaggle of offbeat parking-lot attendants in Charlottesville, Virginia. Talk about the other end of the financial continuum. The gang argues with cheapskates, chases drive-aways, and responds in kind to the contempt that trickles down upon them from the blue-blooded commodores of the land-yacht flotilla.

One attendant notes that as the automobile grew in size over the years, they actually had to start turning some behemoths away because there were no spots large enough to accommodate them.

“You could almost see the truncated syllogism in their head,” one attendant says. “Like: ‘I bought the car; how could there not be a place to park it? Surely it comes with a parking space.’ ”

The tagline is, “It’s not just a parking lot. It’s a battle with humanity.” Or the lack thereof.

No prize? No surprise

April 18, 2011April 18, 2011 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 16 Comments

Once again the Pulitzer Prizes have been announced and my name is not on the list. If I weren’t such an easygoing sort I might take this as a personal affront. It also helps that there isn’t an award for Vicious and Often Pointless Bicycle Comedy.

Another Colorado wiseass did bring home the bacon, however: Mike Keefe of The Denver Post, who is a very funny fellow, won the Pulitzer for editorial cartooning. Chapeau, Mr. Keefe.

Lacking plaudits for my contributions to arts and letters, I rode the bike for 90 minutes, failing to excel there as well but enjoying myself hugely nonetheless.

I finally got forked

April 15, 2011April 15, 2011 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 25 Comments

Steel, si; carbon, no: My beautiful Steelman road fork is finally on the bike and logging miles.

Ever since a terrorist carbon fork enlisted my once-trusty road bike in a plot to assassinate me last August I’ve looked askance at the old gal, giving her a wide berth in favor of one ’cross bike or another whenever I’m not test-driving something for Adventure Cyclist.

Naturally, I immediately subjected the terrorist fork to extraordinary rendition and, after some extended diplomacy through a third party, eventually approved the immigration of what was said to be a trustworthy replacement.

But I never trusted it. Call it profiling if you will, but I had a garage full of steel-forked bikes that had never tried to kill me. They were content to let me try to do myself in, and I could live with that.

Eventually I asked my friend Brent Steelman of Steelman Cycles to build me a manly, red-white-and-blue American steel fork for the road bike, and he came through with a brilliant piece of work. But then winter arrived, and other distractions intervened, and before you could say “stupid plastic fork” spring had arrived and I still hadn’t introduced my steel fork to its titanium bike.

Well, our long national nightmare has finally ended. Steelman fork and DBR frame at last are one, and the pairing is both lovely and lively. No longer do I feel as though I’m diving into a potholed corner hunched over a pair of flimsy, black-plastic tongue depressors. There’s a stout steel barrier between me and facial reconstruction.

And for the gram-counters among you — the bike now weighs 20.5 pounds instead of 19.5 pounds. This being allergy season, one good snot rocket and I’m back on an even keel.