Category: Cheap gags

Zap comics

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 20 Comments
No sweat: We got a battery backup.
No sweat: We got a battery backup.

We had a spot of fun around here yesterday.

The Martin Drake Power Plant, the downtown eyesore that Moses brought with him from Egypt, caught fire and had to be shut down. Not to worry — the coal-fired relic only supplies a third of Bibleburg’s power — and as you can see from the photo at top, the city has a backup in place.

Boy, I bet the City Council wishes they’d given a green light (ho ho ho) to recreational-marijuana sales now. They’d have enough sales-tax revenue to build a solar array, six wind farms and a nuclear plant.

I can already see the slogan: “Puffin’ for Power: Get Lit And Stay Lit.”

 

 

Steel(man) is real, man

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 18 Comments
My main racing bike from back in the day, a Steelman Eurocross, slightly the worse for wear after two hours of dusty trail.
My main racing bike from back in the day, a Steelman Eurocross, slightly the worse for wear after two hours of dusty trail.

It was Ride the Neglected Bike Day again today. And I must declare myself a shameless hypocrite.

For years I’ve inveighed against gram-counters, contending that a strong black cup of coffee and a productive few minutes in the reading room pre-ride is immeasurably preferable to flushing a fat wad of coarse notes down the loo of the latest and greatest bike-lightening comosellama.

Well, yesterday I spent two hours aboard the Salsa Vaya on the mean streets, bike paths and bumpy byways of Bibleburg, and today I did likewise astride one of my old racing bikes, a Steelman Cycles Eurocross.

And whaddaya know? I felt considerably friskier on the elderly ‘cross bike than I did on the young gravel grinder.

Let’s go to the tale of the tape, shall we?

The Salsa Vaya tips the scales at 28.9 pounds.

The Steelman Eurocross weighs in at 22 pounds.

Hm. A 6.9-pound dump is not out of the question, depending upon what was had for dinner. But it seems unlikely.

So for the moment I’m forced to declare myself full of shit.

 

 

Honky if you love freedumb

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 23 Comments
Cletus don't got nothin' against no Negroes. He thinks ever'body should own one.
Cletus don’t got nothin’ against no Negroes. He thinks ever’body should own one.

Oh, Lord, the air must be thin up there in Dumbass Mountain, Nevada, where the peckerwood forest grows.

It’s not bad enough that we must endure the comedy stylings of Cletus Awreetus-Awrightus, Grand Wazoo* of the Holy Sheet Brotherhood & Posse Comatose.

No, we must hear from his daughter, too.

The wingnut didn’t fall too far from the tree there, now, did it?

I’m old enough to remember when we used to call people who stole things “criminals,” not “patriots,” and those who defended the practice by force of arms, “dead criminals,” or at the very least, “jailbirds.”

The times, she do change.

* And yes, I did manage to find a way to work in a cheap Frank Zappa gag there. Thanks for noticing.