Will he or won’t he? Hey, I’ll drink to that

January 8, 2010 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 4 Comments

With Interior Secretary Ken Salazar saying thanks, but no thanks, John Hickenlooper is said to be polling slightly behind Scott McLobbyist in the Colorado gubernatorial race — even though the Denver mayor hasn’t officially entered the race yet.

That said, what’s not to like about a guy who opened a couple of brewpubs — Wynkoop in Denver and Phantom Canyon right here in Bibleburg? Would you rather have a publican running the state or some roundheeled Big Energy mouthpiece who keeps a mattress strapped to his back in case he needs to assume the position on a moment’s notice?

Meanwhile, it’s Friday and instead of bellying up to some elegant bar I’m up to my oversized keister in various labors for VeloNews — whose absentee landlords still have yet to offer me a reasonable contract for 2010, eight days into the New Year — and Bicycle Retailer & Industry News, whose management knows better than to pester me with such nonsense. Revising badly written legalese that is to freelance journalism what Shanghaiing was to naval recruitment leaves me fulminating and unfunny, qualities one does not desire in a humorist for hire.

And finally, to another matter: Any of you folks out there know much about Austin, Texas? A cycling buddy is contemplating a move there and wants the inside scoop on the joint. I haven’t been there since I was a sprout living on Randolph AFB outside San Antone, so as usual I am less than informed. Your assistance would be appreciated.

Moe, Larry, Curly, Pete, Jim and Michele

December 29, 2009November 16, 2010 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 3 Comments

You call this a December morning in Colorado? I've seen more color at a Klan rally.

Feh. Another in our apparently interminable series of gray days. It’s too early in winter to see all this dirty snow and ice piled up all over the place, thanks to a stretch of subfreezing temperatures. It reminds me of Weirdcliffe, only with more horses’ asses than horses.

Speaking of which, it’s fine to see the Repuglitards continuing their craven buffoonery, slavish toadying to corporations and shameless pissing in the political sandbox. If a guy has to be stuck inside, it’s nice to have some entertainment. There are more than three stooges on the national stage as 2009 limps to a close, to be sure. Just check out Kevin Drum’s capsule look at the past two weeks in politics, and don’t miss Mother Jones‘ list of “Capitol Hill’s Most Unhinged Republicans.”

The unfunny part is, of course, that some of our fellow Americans think this lot should be running the country.

Cold comfort indeed

December 9, 2009November 16, 2010 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 20 Comments

Turkenstein the Large is all puffed up with noplace to go (because I won't let him out). — Turkenstein the Large is all puffed up with nowhere to go (because I won't release him into the frigid wasteland that is Bibleburg).

Eleven below zero. Jesus H. Christ. I just saw an entire squadron of witches’ tits flying south for the winter with ground support from a battalion of nutless brass monkeys.

Posting has been spotty around here lately ’cause it’s the monthly deadline crunch — cartoon for VeloNews on Friday, double-posting on the old and new VeloNews.com sites on Sunday and Monday, ’toon, column and the Grapevine roundup for Bicycle Retailer due by close of business today. Why, it’s almost like having a real job, except for the lack of health insurance, paid vacation, 401(k), and employer-supplied office, phone, Internet service, computer, software and technical support.

At least I don’t have to drive anywhere, wear a tie, piss away the day in pointless meetings. I’m parked at the keyboard in sweatpants and a Mount Taylor Winter Quadrathlon T-shirt from 1990, when I was young and fit and had hair in places other than my shoulders, ears and nose.

I had a real job then, too. My last one, I hope. Boy, did that ever suck. If I were still doing that bullshit I’d have had to edit something about Caribou Barbie instead of drawing a Mud Stud cartoon.

Pyrénéezzzzzzzzzzz . . . .

July 12, 2009 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 7 Comments

What a travesty, turning the Col d’Aspin and the Col du Tourmalet into a couple of speed bumps en route to a two-up sprint that barely beat an 80-man dash to the line. Bor-ring. A la chingada con el Pyrénées, in this format, anyway. More Roberto Duran, less Gary Kasparov, please.

Meanwhile, Big Tex has transformed himself from The Great Stone Face to Chatty Cathy, briskly dispensing wisdom to fans and foes alike. Contador? Ambitious. Evans? Gutsy. Race radios? Stupid. The ’10 Tour? Maybe. We could change the name of the site to “VeloLance: The Journal of Competitive Lanceness” based on the volume of copy we got on him today, f’chrissakes.

I think I liked him better when he was stiff-arming the press. Sheeyit, a guy could get tired of Mozart if he heard too much of him.

No ride for Your Humble Narrator today. First it was too busy, then it was too hot, and finally it was too rainy. This is the weirdest Colorado summer I can recall, and I’ve seen plenty of ’em. We have three fans going on in the bedroom now, and I could still test a Cervélo P666 and a prototype asbestos Assos skinsuit in there. I want heat and humidity, I’ll move back to San Antone.

The waste land

May 2, 2009November 16, 2010 ~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 2 Comments

Mia Sopaipilla auditions for the starring role in a feline take on the noir classic "The Meowtese Falcon."

T.S. Eliot was full of shit. “April is the cruellest month,” my large, pale Irish-American ass. So far, May in Bibleburg sucks like a New Orleans pumping station crosswired to a black hole.

It can’t even rain properly around here, f’chrissakes — just this mincing little dribble that reminds me of why I fled Oregon like a Norway rat rocketing out of a sewer pipe. Fog, gray skies, the temperatures barely above freezing, Mia toasting her bum on the DSL modem and Turkish begging to go out for reasons only known to himself. Maybe he’s sick of dried cat chow and dreams of catching a passing fish, if there are any with legs in these parts. Good luck — that species appears to be restricted to Darwin emblems affixed to Volvos.

Up in Crusty County, meanwhile, my man Hal Walter has taken on the swine whine with recommendations for reducing your vulnerability to marauding bugs. It boils down to reducing stress and eating properly, which is a lot cheaper than building a R. Buckminster Fuller geodesic dome with an airlock and enduring hourly rubdowns with Lysol.