Category: Bibleburg

Democrats sighted in Bibleburg; film at 11

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 12 Comments

That coffee-colored fella from Washington DeeCee, Barack Hussein Obama, the fabled Kenyan Muslim socialist Antichrist who’s gonna snatch up all our guns and give ’em to the United Nations, the North American Man/Boy Love Association and The New York Times, will be addressing the Democratic hordes of Bibleburg tomorrow, and Your Humble Narrator and Herself will be among those in attendance.

Tickets were free, but had to be picked up in advance, and since much of bright-red Bibleburg still calls Abraham Lincoln a RINO for freeing the slaves I figured this would be about as tough a hustle as scoring duckets for a N.W.A. reunion concert in Branson, Missouri.

There were two pickup spots. The first was Colorado College, the site of tomorrow’s presidential address and an easy walk or bike ride from Chez Dog. The other was the Obama for America office up north in Briargate, a 20-minute drive at the best of times — and the announced pickup time of 5 p.m. is never the best of times. The rule of thumb in these parts is never head north on Interstate 25 after about 3 p.m. unless you really, really, really like your car, especially its first gear.

Herself was working in Denver and motored straight to the Briargate location for her ticket, and what with the honkified north end of town being Romney country she was in and out in a flash. I chose the Colorado College location, an easy five-minute trip by bike, and stood in line for about an hour and a half with a couple thousand of my deeply blue brethren and sistren. Another real-world proof of the Larry’s Wife Theorem®.

This afternoon I took the Vespa for a spin past CC en route to the Colorado Farm and Art Market for a passel of Doug Wiley’s Larga Vista Ranch pasture-raised pork and the security types have the place fenced off in a fashion that would make an Arizona Minuteman smile, until he remembered why.

Tomorrow we’ll ride our bikes down to CC to catch the prez in person. I don’t believe I’ve seen an occupant of the Oval Orifice in corpus since LBJ visited Randolph AFB when I was a sprout. Should be interesting. I’ll have a couple cameras and the iPhone; maybe I can post a little sumpin’-sumpin’ from the scene.

 

Flying Dog, or from fire to flood

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 6 Comments

Took a break from Le Tour today, mostly, though I did lend a hand to Charles “Live Update Guy” Pelkey over at Red Kite Prayer as he followed the stage for fun and profit. You already know what happened: Turns out Cav’ don’ need no steenkeeng choo-choo to win stages.

But first I had to shuttle Herself to the Greater Bibleburg Interdimensional Airport once again. This time she’s trading fire for flood, jetting to Maryland to visit family … kinfolks who only just yesterday got their power back on. So, yeah. Good times, is what. She’ll be sampling some Flying Dog ale straight from the source — who knew the outfit was based in Frederick, Md.? — and will report back to us.

Here’s hoping she won’t need an Igloo and a sack of cubes to keep it cold. I bet they’re running short of that sort of thing in my home state.

El Fabuloso nearly does the double

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 1 Comment
July 1 rain
We even got a little rain today. Not much, but every little bit helps.

Faboo the Fast just about caught everyone napping in the finale to stage 1. The yellow jersey popped off the front, but Peter Sagan was watching and came along for the ride, followed by Edvald Boasson Hagen.

Sagan did the smart thing, which was to stick to Cancellara like a decal until just before the line, then nip around for the win. Mr. Fab’ got second and kept The Big Shirt. Eddie van Hagen held on for third.

The Slovak strongman’s victory celebration was a tad affected, prompting the following tweet from @cycletard: “Memo to Peter Sagan, the Village People want their dance back.” Ouch.

I almost missed the finale — the power went out in a sizable portion of the neighborhood for reason(s) unknown (perhaps Michelle Malkin’s Massey Ferguson diesel dildo overpowered the grid) and Colorado Springs Utilities was estimating it might take a couple of hours to get everyone back on line.

Happily, we had juice for the final kilometers, and I got to see a rare sight indeed — a yellow jersey on the attack. Good times.

Speaking of which, the smoke eaters are making progress on the Waldo Canyon fire. It’s a long way from out, but containment is at 45 percent and some evacuees are getting into their neighborhoods for a look-see. Those who still have homes standing may have to wait a while to take up residence again — some extensive reconstruction of utility infrastructure will be required.

Fab and not so fab

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 7 Comments

Mr. Fab is back, taking the V in today’s Tour prologue ahead of a massively focused Bradley Wiggins, who nearly stole the show.

Not so fab is the word that scumbags have been burgling and/or trashing the homes and vehicles of evacuees from the Waldo Canyon fire.

Now, call me intolerant, but I find that intolerable. It’s not bad enough that Hell comes to town and rousts you out of your bed, sets you on the road with whatever you can stuff into a bag before it catches fire? Nope, we must have a little human deviltry to give it some edge.

I can’t think of an epithet vile enough for such people. Grave robbers seem positively civilized by comparison. At least their victims are beyond any need for TVs, toasters and whatnot.

It makes one yearn for the sort of rude Western justice often meted out in horse operas. Unfortunately, the fire has left us short of trees for hangings.

This blows

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 4 Comments

We’ve had a break in the heat but little respite from the winds, and the Waldo Canyon firefighters would really appreciate a bit of the latter.

Said incident commander Rich Harvey: “I’d like to start by saying, I hate wind. I wish it would go away.”

Also, rain, please, and plenty of it. Thanks in advance.

Meanwhile, no fear here at Chez Dog. Today Herself volunteered for an extra shift at the Humane Society of the Pikes Peak Region, which is boarding critters in the crisis. And I banged out a little word count on some area bicycle folks who’ve lost individual pursuits to the blaze. The worst of it around our little pied-à-terrier is smoke and ash.

A couple friends have lost their houses, and others are couch-surfing while they await word. One local official taken on a tour of the area hit hardest said entire blocks are gone.

So, yeah, what’s a little smoke and ash? I’ve seen worse at Interbike.

More as it happens.