I almost forgot — it’s Zappadan Eve!
Thanks to Sandy Underpants at The Aristocrats for the reminder. I first saw this poster at a head shop in downtown Bibleburg waaaaay back in the day. We thought the shit was deep back then, but it seems the torture never stops.
Hasta la vista to Spain Rodriguez, creator of “Trashman” and one of the original underground-comics all-stars alongside Robert Crumb, Gilbert Shelton, S. Clay Wilson and the rest of ’em.
He died at 72 following a battle with (what else?) cancer. The old motorcycle hood couldn’t kick an ass that big and bad, though it seems clear that he tried, fighting the oppressor to the end.
There goes the (Hyborian) neighborhood: It seems the 65-year-old Arnold Schwarzenegger plans to reprise his role as Conan the Barbarian in “The Legend of Conan,” another sword-and-sorcery epic scheduled for release in 2014.
There is probably no truth to the rumor that the Governator is simultaneously working on a monster movie set in the gritty world of professional cycling. Said to have the working title “Frankenhein,” it stars Woody Harrelson as Lance Armstrong, Schwarzenegger as Hein Verbruggen and a gray-flannel bag of bullshit as Pat McQuaid.
The prez did the RomneyBot v2.012 tonight the way Susan Calvin did Herbie in Isaac Asimov’s “Liar,” from “I, Robot.”
Except, of course, the RomneyBot will continue to speak.
My suffering knows no bounds. Herself is tormenting me from Hawaii with still photos of snorkeling, videos of playing bikini-clad footsie with the Pacific, and tantalizing tales of fresh fish, guacamole made from homegrown avocados and free drinks.
Meanwhile, packed like a sequence of overstuffed Irish bangers into pants, socks and long-sleeved shirt I wrangle Elly Mae’s critters, burn my brand onto some wandering word count and push a whole passel of pixels in the service of what passes for bicycle journalism in these parts. There has been little free time for tomfoolery in the ocean Bibleburg does not border or the eating of the avocados it does not grow.
As novelist Thomas McGuane had a leathery 60-year-old rancher put it in “Nothing But Blue Skies,” “Why does the Lord want me to serve him in this way?”
Who knows? The Lord works in mysterious ways, or so I’m told. So do I, although the mystery lies mostly in why anyone would offer me work. Or marriage, for that matter. As Richard Pryor once said of himself in “Live On the Sunset Strip,” I am no day at the beach, especially when the beach is there and I am here.
We do have sand, however. And before I reapply nose to grindstone this morning I believe I will go out and run on it, or ride in it.
And you needn’t fear that I’ll be doing it in a Big Tex-style banana hammock, either. I ain’t no tri-toad, and anyway, it’s 30 degrees, f’chrissakes. Oh, to be a son of a beach instead of the other thing.
Mad Blog Media 