Turkish, who also loathes the wind, gives the hairy eyeball to one of his toys shortly before kicking its ass.
Jeebus. I say this every April, I know, but still, damn — this wind is insane. Right now it’s barreling out of the south-southwest at 29 mph with gusts to 48.
Sucker flat pile-drives the pollen up the snotlocker, let me tell you. Feels like some evil plumber is ratcheting down an extra-large hose clamp on my brainpan. I should be out logging miles on the Jamis for review purposes, but I’ve been wrestling this accursed wind all week and I’m kind of over it. For now, anyway.
Still, could be worse — Flagstaff is under about a foot of snow, I-17 is closed, and the white stuff is still coming down. This is why we keep cross-country skis and snowshoes around. April showers, don’t you know.
Finally, a little help with the lawn-watering program around here.
We got a very welcome spring rain last night. The sound of the lawn, shrubs and trees cheering (“Yaaaaayyyy!!!) kept us up all night long.
Or perhaps that was the shit monsoon, which continues unabated in DeeCee, where the Tinfoil Beanie Party continues to hone its management philosophy, taken from the manifesto “Everything I Know About Getting My Way I Learned in Kindergarten.” What a shower of bastards we have sent to the nation’s capital.
And how God must chuckle when He looks down to see His monkeys at play, screeching and flinging dung at one another. Kind of makes You wish You hadn’t taken that seventh day off, eh, Big Fella? You could’ve used it to perform a little quality-control check on your most famous product.
When Gabriel's horn blow, you better be ready to go.
More rain. Jesus. I like the way it waits until I’m done with work and getting ready for a ride before it starts coming down in torrents.
You may call this egomania, but I know for a fact that the Universe is out to get me. It’s taken my hair, vigor and girlish figure, shunted me into a dying profession and locked me into a political-science experiment gone horribly awry. And now, to add insult to injury, it’s pissing on me.
But KRCC-FM just played Parliament’s “Mothership Connection (Star Child),” so now I feel much better. “If you hear any noise, it’s just me and the boys, hittin’ it.”
Star Child willing, I’ll be hittin’ it tomorrow, when the weather is supposed to be mightily improved. I need miles. One more day stuck inside reading what passes for “news” in this benighted country of ours will have me trying to put a glide in my stride and a dip in my hip so’s I can hitch a ride on the Mothership.
The celestial sprinkler system went off this afternoon.
It just pissed down rain like a mad bastard for about 15 minutes and now the sun is shining. Good work, Yahweh. Saved me from having to water the lawn.
Big Tex has trotted out the traditional boilerplate via the Radio ShackStrong website: “We understand that responsible anti-doping organizations and governmental agencies have an obligation to investigate allegations of wrongdoing, even when those allegations are baseless, incredible, and made by people with improper motives.
“At the same time, much of what has been reported in the press is false, sensational and unprofessional. If any governmental or anti-doping organizations conduct a proper investigation, Lance looks forward to once again being totally vindicated after a fair investigation.”
That’s a big if. There’s a lot going on in the world these days, and whether Big Tex and his cronies were applying more than shaving cream to their legs seems like a case of the sniffles next to, say, pestilence, war, famine and death.
Still, there’s some gold in them thar molehills. What ambitious miner wouldn’t want to be the guy who comes up with that big nugget clutched in his grimy fist, the one with the seven yellow stripes? But there’s a lot of hard digging ahead and the sparks are sure to fly as the picks start swinging. Don’t touch that dial.
Two, four, six, eight, organize to smash the State!
It’s May Day, kiddies, and I want to see each and every one of you out in the streets today, smashing the State.
Alas, I will not be able to participate as I have a bad back (solidarity, brothers). Also, I have to work. Damn The Man! But if it weren’t for me nobody would know that Jacob Keough (UnitedHealthcare-Maxxis) and Theresa Cliff-Ryan (Colavita-Baci) won last night’s Spartanburg Downtown Criterium. It is a weighty responsibility indeed, yet it is a burden I bear gladly, because booze, food and bike parts cost money and this is how I get some. You’re welcome.
Meanwhile, it’s just above freezing outside and I fear for my tulips. Also my cycling. Our local cage-liner anticipates a soggy, snowy May, so those of you planning to tackle the Iron Horse on Memorial Day weekend better do your training in a meat locker somewhere so you can get used to the feeling of freezing your tits off during a pointless exercise in oxygen deprivation, pain management and altitude sickness.
Me, I’ll be sitting right here, posting a story about it. You’re welcome.
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