Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category


September 24, 2018

It’s all downhill from here.

Tonight is the Harvest Moon.

That’s not it up there. That’s a view of the north end of Duke City from just below the Tramway. And it looks much better in that photo than 11 p.m. does on the Timex, especially if you went to sleep, or thought you did, at 10.

Mom’s chili (Mom not included).

I blame the moon. But what actually woke me last night after an hour of sleep was probably Spike the Terrorist Deer noshing on our pear tree, or Field Marshal Turkish von Turkenstein (commander, 1st Feline Home Defense Regiment), trash-talking at him.

“Yaaaaaaaah! Gedoudaheeeeeah! ’Member what happened to your momma, Bambi?”

Naturally, I hollered for my momma, but she’s been dead almost as long as Bambi’s, and having seen way too many horror movies I really didn’t want her coming back on my account. She might have her own agenda.

So as a sort of substitute and/or magic potion I’m making her famous chili from a stained, tattered recipe card the old gal typed up herself. It was one of the rare occasions when I asked her for something other than money to buy drugs.

And if that’s not weird enough for you, how ’bout this?

When I woke up at 11, I felt rested.

But I went back to sleep anyway.


One step beyond

November 12, 2017

The Marin Nicasio is part of the company’s “Beyond Road” line, so naturally I took it beyond roads. I’m funny that way. Maybe not.

Weekend? Holiday? Your words are strange, friend. We have no such things here on Freelancia. What a paradise your world must be. Tell me more.

OK, awright, yeah, so as work goes, riding the old bikey bike hardly qualifies. And glad I was to be doing it, too, after a couple weeks of a dodgy back. But still.

The pic is a screen grab from a bit of video I shot Friday for Adventure Cyclist to accompany my review of the Marin Nicasio. Yesterday I was rolling around and about on a Fuji Touring Disc, which is next in the pipeline.

Fuji has been doing touring bikes for the better part of quite some time (anybody remember the Fuji America from the fabulous Seventies?). The Touring model has been in the line since the Nineties, and for 2018 — like pretty much everything else — it is available with disc brakes.

This one I won’t drag out onto the singletrack. That wouldn’t just be be one step beyond — that would be Madness.

Just us

August 21, 2017

Lady Justice told us we were free to go.

While all y’all were hunting old welder’s masks, ski goggles and colanders with which to view the eclipse, I was sitting in room 127 at the Bernalillo County Courthouse, waiting to see if my wisdom would be required on a jury.

There was a sizable crowd of us, and three trials, the Duke City being something of a Russian novel, crime-and-punishment-wise. The first call missed me, as did the second, but the third hit the bullseye, and off I went with the rest of the remainders to the courtroom of the Honorable Beatrice J. Brickhouse.

We got the “All rise” and a cheery greeting from Her Honor … and that was pretty much it. The parties had agreed to settle mere moments earlier, and thus 12 angry persons would not be helping resolve their disagreement, whatever that might have been. Maybe it was about who got custody of the eclipse sunglasses.

It would be easy to get pissed over a morning down the judicial rathole, but everybody was just so darn nice I thought I had been magically transported back to Canada.

Plus I got paid $7.50 an hour for working on a Bicycle Retailer column and texting various cronies. Beauty, eh? Take off, you hosers. Go watch an eclipse or something.

Chile today

January 1, 2016
Pax capsicum.

Pax capsicum.

2016 has begun as 2015 ended, with a bit of fresh snow on the deck and temps in the mid-20s. And they call this a “new year.” Harumph, etc., et al., and so on and so forth.

Last year was the wettest in a decade for Albuquerque and New Mexico, according to the Albuquerque Journal. A quarter of the state remains abnormally dry, but the National Weather Service says there is no drought for the first time in five years.

As to 2016, quien sabe?

“It’s hard to say what short-term drought will be like next summer,” says Chuck Jones, a meteorologist with the Albuquerque office of the NWS. “But we are getting off to a good start for 2016.”

Of course, opinions vary wildly as regards what constitutes “a good start for 2016.” All the four-legged O’Gradys are curled up in their various beds trying to stay warm, while the two-legged types are pouring cups of hot tea over last night’s tinga poblana, which proved a stunning success. If you’re feeling the January chill, I urge you to make it at once, if not sooner.

Can’t make it all alone

December 24, 2015

A joyous Christmas Eve to all of yis who keep the joint jumpin’ year in and year out. Here’s hoping Sanity Clause brings us all what we want instead of what we deserve.

* I know, I know, I can’t fool you, there ain’t no Sanity Clause.

Other holiday classics:

• “Father Christmas,” The Kinks.

• “Christmas In Washington,” Steve Earle.

• “Christmas Card From a Hooker In Minneapolis,” Tom Waits.



July 14, 2012

Oy. Long day on the job for a variety of reasons, and no, don’t ask.

Nice to see Bradley Wiggins try to lead out Edvald Boassen Hagen for the stage win, but I’m still having trouble warming up to ‘Is Lordship for some reason.

Maybe it’s racial memory. He is English, after all. But then I always liked the Beatles, Stones, Python, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, etc.

Maybe it’s his manner with the sporting press. Pro athletes often forget that if they didn’t get any media coverage many of them would be wearing paper hats and throwing packets of spuds at strangers through a drive-up window, or standing up to their hips in something nasty with only a shovel for company.

Nah. It’s the sideburns. That shit has to go. Wiggo’ makes Bob Roll look like James Bond, f’fucksake.

58 laps down, ? to go. …

March 27, 2012

Once again The Associated Press has failed to mention my birthday in “Today In History,” though they have taken the time to mention hacks like Anthony Lewis (85), Michael York (70) and Quentin Tarantino (49). Between these gomers and the Pulitzer people I’m starting to get seriously pissed off.

Other noxious lowlights of the day, for those of you disinclined to click links:

• Spanish explorer Juan Ponce de Leon sighted what we now call Florida, and don’t we wish he hadn’t?

• Milton Berle died of colon cancer in Los Angeles.

• Marlon Brando declined the Oscar for best actor, awarded for his role as Don Vito Corleone in “The Godfather.”

• And March Madness was born in 1939, just days after the Nazis invaded Czechoslovakia. A coincidence? I think not.

The State of Disunion

January 24, 2012
Newt and Callista

"Sorry, Callista, but you're gonna have to share me with the American people."

Well, here we go again. Time for the annual call-and-response comedy that pits Repug against Donk and man against booze.

I thought about a drinking game that involved taking a snort every time Weepy John Boehner pulls a frowny face, rolls his eyes or nods off from martini and/or tanning-bed poisoning, but I don’t think my liver could take the pounding. I’d be drunk-dialing Callista Gingrich 15 minutes into the speech: “C’mon, all I wanna know is what’s he make ya wear? Hah? Does he make ya dress up like Michelle Obama and then chase ya ’round the water bed with a riding crop, callin’ ya uppity? You can trust me, I’m a media elite.”

SOTU addresses drive me to drink far too easily already. Especially when the Congress pulls some monkey-spank bullshit like encouraging “bipartisan seating.” That’s about as far as bipartisanship extends with this lot: “I’ll sit with you, but I won’t put out.” Right. Saving themselves for Wall Street.

Me, I like watching the Repugs squat like dyspeptic toads as the prez delivers applause lines and the Donks rise theatrically to their lightly loafered feet, smacking their limp wrists together in a mimicry of human applause. And I pay taxes at a higher rate than either Newt or Mittens, so I should get what I want.

More after the jabberwocky.

The torture never stops

December 4, 2011

Happy First Day of Zappadan!

Dear Mayor Bloomberg: Occupy Hell

November 15, 2011

Comrade Buddy strikes a Socialist Realism pose while defending Occupy Caramillo Street against The Man.

The 21st century with its instant access to evil tidings can be hard on a news junkie. Real-time updates about the billionaire Mayor of Wall Street sending cops out to slug city councilmen and jug reporters whenever they’re not otherwise occupied fixing tickets or kicking the shit out of the citizenry are guaranteed to raise the blood pressure and trigger the deadly head-desk effect (thud, ow, thud, ow, thud, ow).

Occupy Wall Street’s muddled message doesn’t resonate with everyone (though OWS does poll surprisingly well). But even those who dislike the movement should agree that the government has no business manhandling the media as they struggle to figure out and explain to the curious folks Occupying their couches just what class of something is happening here (what it is ain’t exactly clear).

Since when do U.S. cops get to arrest journalists, ignore court orders and in general behave like SA brownshirts? Who thinks the militarized police attacks on protests in NYC, Oakland and Chapel Hills were smart strategically, tactically or financially? Since when does repression quell expression?

Jesus. I finally had to leave the office to Occupy Palmer Park for an hour, me and the Voodoo Nakisi. Neither of us got beat up, arrested or even had our First Amendment rights violated.