Category: Deep political thought

The winter of my distemper

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 9 Comments
First snowfall of 2012
These trees are nearly as bent as the UCI.

Whaddaya know? Seems it’s not gonna be 70-something and sunny forever.

It was bite-ass cold this morning, and thank God only Herself had to be up and at ’em early. Me, I burrowed ever deeper into the blankets and stayed there until the crack of 7:30, when it was still too friggin’ cold for my taste. Why, I actually contemplated pulling on the old sweat pants once I tunneled out in search of hot coffee.

Happily, one need only read the morning news to get the blood boiling.

The UCI is starting to look like a Dumpster full of rats into which a lit string of inch-and-a-half Black Cats has been introduced. I’d prefer to nuke the entire site from orbit (it’s the only way to be sure), but if I can’t get a big bang I’ll take a series of little ones.

More shoes are said to be dropping directly (think an earthquake whose epicenter is directly under Imelda Marcos’ closet), so if it sounds like the combined New York, Boston and Chicago marathons are pounding by outside your window, well, you heard it here first.

Elsewhere, John McCain is about three brain cells away from telling squirrels to get off his fucking lawn. The whole point of marrying into the booze business is to avoid drinking the cheap popskull that dissolves you into an asshole and a mouth with nothing in between. I married into the book business, f’fucksake, but you don’t see me reading any of Sean Hannity’s bullshit.

Speaking of which, and finally, Triumph the Insult Comic Dog was at the last debate. So there is some good news after all.

Foreign affairs

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 17 Comments
The path to Fountain, Oct. 20, 2012
No, this is not a pleasant rural road — this is a bike path between Bibleburg and Fountain.

Monday served up one helluva wild ride on the Schadenfreude Express.

It began with Texus Maximus going all minimus, from seven Tour de France victories down to two stage wins and a 36th-overall finish in 1995. And it ended with LL Cool Prez making a punk and a chump out of the RomneyBot v2.012, which came off looking like it would get laughed out of a Know-Nothing primary for a school-board seat in Stumpbroke, Mississippi.

The Cyclist Who Shall Not Be Named (TCWSNBN) was always a poor winner and a worse loser, and it must’ve really stung to be called out from the pulpit by Fat Paddy, that braying, gray-flannel bag of porter farts.

Always one to insist that the UCI’s glossy image remain untarnished, via defamation lawsuit if necessary, the blustering bog-trotter took a respite from casting out the big yellow devil to call Tyler Hamilton and Floyd Landis “scumbags.” Before the word had finished leaving his flapping piehole a thousand lawyers had offered their services to the two whistleblowers, and I will be surprised if the suits weren’t filed before the echoes died.

TCWSNBN will need his own army of shysters going forward, as everybody and his granny wants a refund with interest — Amaury Sports Organization, SCA Promotions, the Sunday Times and pretty much anyone who bought his books, bracelets or bullshit. And there’s that dormant federal inquiry, which could wake up if the U.S. attorney suddenly grows a pair.

In point of fact, there was no shortage of shoe leather being applied to the fallen idol over the course of what must have been a very long day indeed. It was only fair, since he was rarely shy about getting his own Nikes into prostrate rivals when he was on top. There’s no point in putting someone on the deck if you’re not going to give them the boot. It’s American as fraud, coercion, intimidation, bribery and perjury.

Speaking of boots, LL Cool Prez kicked the RomneyBot’s ass so hard that it will be tasting shoe leather until Election Day. I was all for skipping this final debate, but Herself insisted on watching, and I’m glad we did, if only to enjoy the ‘Bot’s stammering and sweating. For a while it looked like its hair was pissing on its head to keep its positronic brain from catching fire.

Whether the drubbing will have any effect remains to be seen. Elsewhere on TV highly paid professionals were playing with their balls and Herself and I may have constituted the entire PBS audience. Still, we enjoyed ourselves. I thought at one point that the prez might just lean back, park his dogs on the desk, lace his fingers behind his head, and let the ‘Bot keep digging its own political grave. “Keep it up, never mind me, you’re doing just fine.”

Today it’s back to business as usual. Apple is unleashing a few more must-have toys for anyone who still has a job, the Tour is preparing to announce the route of its centenary event, and I plan to get in one more long ride before the weather goes south.

The calm before the storm

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 5 Comments
Back-deck vine, Oct. 2, 2012
No, this isn’t some class of Druidic prison … it’s the vine on the back deck going from green to red.

Today was one of those absolutely gorgeous fall days that you’d like to capture in a Mason jar, tuck away in a closet and break out sometime in February when the ceiling and floor have become indistinguishable from one another.

The sun was out, the wind was manageable and the temperature crested just short of the 80s. Herself and I celebrated with a ponderous American breakfast — eggs over easy, pan-fried Yukon Gold spuds, bacon, toast and coffee — followed by a ride to work it all off.

This won’t last, of course. The National Weather Service is predicting a repeat tomorrow, but it all goes south after that, toward a “high” of 43 with a slight chance of rain and/or snow come Saturday, when I have to be indoors working anyway. Oh, well.

Tomorrow brings The Great Debate that neither side claims to be capable of winning (keep those expectations low, fellas; the rest of us certainly are). I’m unloading all the firearms and keeping the smokepoles upstairs but moving the ammo downstairs. TVs are expensive and we don’t want to frighten the neighbors. The ceaseless, volcanic profanity and hurling of beer bottles through windows that have not been opened will be bad enough.

And be glad you’re not driving I-25 through Denver during the debate. ‘Cause you won’t be able to.