Jesus wept?

April 11, 2012 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 12 Comments

April showers — Good day for a bike with fenders. Either that or kit with a brown stripe up the back.

There was water on the deck when I arose this morning. Was Jesus weeping over the news that Rick Sphinctorum had suspended his campaign for the GOP pestilential nomination? Nope. Just a bit of rain, overdue and very welcome.

Then again, the moisture could be heavenly tears of hysterical laughter after Rep. Allen West (R-Tinfoil Beanie) declared he had “heard” that as many as 80 House Democrats are members of the Communist Party.

Ho, ho. As a retired commie — Communist Party (Marxist-Leninist), Class of 1977 — I get the giggles every time some right-wing cartoon character tries to crank up a good, old-fashioned Red Scare. The CP (M-L) was kissing China’s ass long before American capitalists began puckering up, and we didn’t even get any cheap plastic trinkets for our trouble. When it went away nobody noticed, not even the Chinese.

As for the Communist Party USA, with only a few thousand members and a longstanding renunciation of violent revolution today’s Party poses as much of a threat to the Republic as a New Black Panther Party chapter in Luckenbach, Texas.

Outfoxed

April 9, 2012April 9, 2012 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 16 Comments

Fox in the chicken house — I can't look at a red fox without hearing, "Hey, dummy!"

The first fox of the season popped round this morning as I was prepping for a ride.

He (or she) had a refreshing drink at my front-lawn sprinkler, then wiped out a few chickens belonging to a neighbor before leading us all on a merry chase around the ’hood.

Little sucker was as shameless as a House Republican, but absolutely without fear (this is how you can tell the difference between a chicken-stealing varmint and a House Republican).

I briefly considered sending the obnoxious sumbitch to the Great Beyond with one of the quieter family firearms — something in a .22 long — but decided against it. He (or she) is just doing what comes natural, and I don’t have the State’s permission to bust a cap in his (or her) ass.

But Turkish, Mia and Buddy will be enjoying some strict supervision in the backyard henceforth, and I may invest in a bag of BBs for the old air pistol. A ping in the pooter may persuade this grinning rascal to seek sustenance elsewhere.

Boom-Boom pounds ’em on the pavé

April 8, 2012 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 9 Comments

Chapeau to Tom Boonen for a manly win at Paris-Roubaix — he didn’t much care for the pace of the group he was with, so he shelled them and soloed 50km for the V.

Big props, too, to Sébastien Turgot, who picked Alessandro Ballan’s pocket for second place in the Roubaix velodrome. Conventional wisdom aside, sometimes it’s smart to look over your shoulder, guys. Sheesh.

Meanwhile, right about now Mike Wallace is interviewing God: “So, what’s with all the contradictions in your book? Care to set the record straight?” Why anyone ever answered the door when Mike showed up with a camera crew remains a mystery to me.

Uncurb your enthusiasm

April 7, 2012 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 13 Comments

For the first time in nearly 35 years I am without a pickup truck.

Yesterday I sold the White Tornado, my 1983 Toyota 4WD long-bed pickup, to the auto shop that kept it and our other rice-grinders rolling long past their sell-by dates. The owner’s grandson needed something that was easier on the wallet than the giant pile of Detroit iron he’s been driving, and since Whitey needed work it seemed appropriate to let a family of mechanics adopt the auld fella.

Whitey was the sole survivor of a once-mighty Nipponese fleet, which not that long ago included another ’83 (a 2WD version with nearly 300,000 miles), a troublesome ’78 Toyota Chinook pop-top camper (dubbed the Pee-wee because it looked like something Pee-wee Herman might use to lure unwary children from a playground); and a 1998 Tacoma that was the last brand-new, showroom-floor vehicle we will ever buy.

The fleet, docked at Weirdcliffe. Not pictured: The Pee-wee.

And yes, I had them all at the same time.

One by one they all went west on me. The Tacoma we traded for my Forester. The Pee-wee we sold to a guy whose son needed a camper for fishing trips. And the 2WD ’83 went to the same folks who bought Whitey — they fixed it up for a young construction type who needed a work truck, and I saw it around town now and then for a couple years afterward.

I’ve had a truck since I still had hair, and it feels weird to look out the window and not see one up against the curb. But I got used to not having hair, and I suppose I’ll get used to not having a truck.

Maybe I can saw the ass-end off the Forester and drop a flatbed on the sumbitch.

Foggy Friday

April 6, 2012April 6, 2012 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 9 Comments

The cruelest month — Things are all fogged up around here today.

“April is the cruellest month,” wrote T.S. Eliot. The quote arises unbidden as I watch the weather change from sunny to snowy to sunny again, and finally to a chilly shvitz of fog — all in less than a week.

Appropriately, April also brings the cruelest race, Paris-Roubaix. And while I no longer help cover such sport for vampire capitalists, I plan to get up way too early on Sunday and lend a paw to my friend and colleague Charles Pelkey over at Live Update Guy.

Charles will be on deck at dark-thirty, as usual, but I won’t plug in until the race is well under way. In the meantime, give us your picks for the V in comments. Tom Boonen is obviously a fave, but with filthy weather in the forecast and no Fabian Cancellara it could be anyone’s race. T.S. Eliot was right.