Cold? Yah. Blizzard? Nah.
The weather wizards are proclaiming a blizzard warning for the Duke City and its environs, but Boreas seems to have pissed off somewhere. Maybe he’s stalking Cupid.
Anyway, we have maybe an inch of snow on the deck, and some flurries continue, but the wind speed is far short of double digits.
It is colder than relations between Mitt Romney and Ron Johnson, but they’re both as rich as Croesus so I’m sure they’ll get over it.
Drink up … while you still can.
Is it half full? Half empty?
Forget about those nagging short-term problems like epidemic idiocy, creeping fascism, and the future of the Republic — what the hell’s happening with water?
And which of the three stories below do you think will get the most “likes” on Facebutt?
Shit, I forgot to squeeze a little lemon in my water. I guess I won’t live forever.
• There’s gold in them thar rivers!
• Beauty and the boost: Hydrate your way to health! If you can find water, and can afford it once you do. Just don’t forget the lemon, dipshit.
Meanwhile, just because, here’s “There Stands the Glass,” as covered by Half Man Half Biscuit. It starts at 6:15, but you should probably listen to the other bits that precede it. Get yeer full glass mate!
It’s all downhill from here, fellas.
A neighbor rang our doorbell a few minutes ago to advise us that the Cowboys for Trump were parading down Comanche, practically dancing in our laps.
Naturally, I grabbed the iPhone, hopped on a bike, and rolled out to collect a few memories.
I’m told that there were four riders on horseback leading the thing. I suppose the irony eludes them, as do many other things.
Including that they inspired my neighbor to drop everything and go vote — for Joe Biden and Kamala Harris.
You can trust your car to the man who wears the star. Or not.
• Skid Marx: “From each according to his ability, to each according to his needs.”
• Al Sleet lives: “The weather will continue to change, on and off, for a long, long time.”
• Raiders of the Lost Arkea-Samsic: “We have top men working on it right now.”
OK, now they’re just fucking with us to see if we’re paying attention.
You can’t make this shit up. “Liz Bourgeois?” Yeah, right. Who’s her supervisor, Heywood Jablomie?
I had one of these back in 2001. I got all the strength training I needed pushing the sonofabitch when it broke down.
Top-shelf “van life?” Four-figure “smart” strength-training equipment?
Betimes one wonders whether The New York Times ping-pongs back and forth between Manhattan and San Fran without paying much attention to what’s in between.
Clearly, what Joe and Jane Sixpack are crying out for in Middle America is a Mercedes-Benz Sprinter with a factory-installed Tonal.
Either that or, y’know, like, a Bug vaccine, dinner with friends, and maybe a fucking job.
Let’s ask Studs Terkel, shall we?
A wet brick can be a terrorist weapon in the wrong hands.
See something, say something!
The “monsoons” appear to be upon us. A bit late, but better that than never.
Look for the Homeless People’s Diversion Channel Surfing Championships live from Albuquerque on ESPN, as there are no other “sports” available to televise.*
Simultaneously, on CNN, watch the 101st Vanborne Division (“The Squealing Beagles”) take target practice on the hapless channel-surfers using “less-lethal munitions,” formerly dubbed “non-lethal munitions,” a.k.a. rubber bullets, beanbag rounds, IRA recruitment tools, etc.
Survivors will be fished out, charged with domestic terrorism for occupying and/or polluting a waterway, and sentenced to take the “troops” water-skiing.
BUM, bum, BUM, bum. …
“Row, y’bastards!”
* Major League Baseball™ is not a sport. It is a business, like AT&T, Facebook, and the White House.
Uncomfortably dumb.
“Miley Cyrus plays Pink Floyd?”
All in all, you’re just another shtick in the mall.
First, the rain. Then, the snow.
Well, it was pretty easy to do the ol’ social distancing today.
The fog crept down the foothills like something out of a Sherlock Holmes movie, followed by the rain, and finally, the snow.
A fan. I’m not a fan of this fan, either.
Well, it was “snow” only in the sense that it involved fat white flakes falling, but nothing stuck around long enough to be shoveled. It certainly wouldn’t have kept a Belgian off the bike. I don’t think anything can.
But it did the trick for me. I rode the trainer for 45 minutes, which I hate, and then did a little light resistance training, which also, too, and likewise.
Still, anything beats watching our national “leadership” act more like Al Capone than Al Schweitzer. These pendejos couldn’t organize a beer run for a frat house if the liquor store were downstairs.
Whoof, dude, you need some Visine. You’re gonna scare the mystery meat out of your bunkie at the Graybar Hotel with peepers like that.
So, assuming Judge Amy Berman Jackson gives Roger Stone some jail time today, how long do you figure it will take Impeachy the Clown to give him a full, complete and unconditional pardon (and probably the Presidential Medal of Freedom and the helm of the Justice Department to boot)?
Patrick O'Grady, a free-range rumormonger since 1991, sells words and pictures to Adventure Cyclist and Bicycle Retailer and Industry News. This blog is his pro-bonehead work. For more on Your Humble Narrator, click the comic.
If you need a tub of margarine, a spatula, and the dubious assistance of a giggling friend to squeeze into your old team jersey, it's time to step up to some kit that fits. Click the pic to join the Old Guys Who Get Fat in Winter Racing Team!
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Fight hate.
Defending press freedom since 1970
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Drink the Kool-Aid
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