Slouching toward impeachment

October 8, 2019

Get on with it!

 

Turds vs. Kurds

October 7, 2019

He didn’t do this, but probably should have.

Why a single, solitary Kurd continues to believe a single, solitary word spoken by a representative of the United States government is a mystery to me.

Those poor saps get sold more often than a hot gun in Albuquerque.

• Extra Credit Chazbo: Meanwhile, I hate to kick off the week with two “Yeah, what Chazbo said” posts, but if Joe “Mr. Clean” Biden doesn’t want to apply for the job with a vengeance, let him get the fuck out of the queue. God save us from another “But it’s my turn!” candidate.

R.I.P., Ginger Baker

October 6, 2019

The cantankerous carrot-top has finally drummed himself off to the Other Side.

It goes without saying that I listened to a lot of Cream as a young ne’er-do-well, and this cut was a fave. So was this one. And this one.

Baker was apparently not fond of reminiscing about those days — “Oh, God, Cream’s a bloody albatross around my neck,” he once said — but I remember them fondly.

What I remember of them, that is. At least I managed to steer clear of the smack.

Sports Eviscerated

October 5, 2019

That’s right, pal, bend over and fondle that ball.

Sports Illustrated has gotten the VeloNews-CGI treatment: Pharaoh bids them make bricks without straw.

I’m not and never have been a sports fan, though I appreciate certain subsets of sportswriting (see Dr. Hunter S. Thompson, et al.). Thus I can’t speak to the quality of today’s Sports Illustrated, though the new management’s strategy certainly sounds familiar.

“Bricks, bitches. Chop chop. No, you don’t get straw. Who do you think you are, Frank Deford?”

But boy howdy, have some big hitters ever swung through SI’s pages over the years.

I’m talking Deford, Roy Blount Jr., Dan Jenkins, George Plimpton, Rick Reilly, Kurt Vonnegut … that’s right, Kurt fuckin’ Vonnegut. Not your basic dime-store jargon-jockeys, is what.

Over at Deadspin, Ray Ratto posits that the gutting, as has become traditional, “was pointless, needlessly cruel, stupid and thoroughly corporate.”

And Ratto expects more of the same:

I want to be more depressed and affected by what seems to have happened to Sports Illustrated, but it is the fate that awaits everything. Some corporate lamprey is coming for every generation’s best and brightest, dimmest and thickest, because you can count money and clicks but not curiosity and discovery. Others will have to provide those last two things now, and will have to do so while knowing that it’s a finite world out there. We will lament its passing too late because we have come to accept the mortality of things we thought would never die, and watch with a shrug as the monuments of our formative years are demolished and turned into Stalin’s Finest coffee stands, and eventually into parking lots.

I’d say that about sums it up. Back to you, Jamie “Mr. Awesome” Salter.

Ch-ch-ch-changes

October 5, 2019

Scott Pankratz will lead the Adventure Cycling Association, succeeding outgoing executive director Jim Sayer.

The Adventure Cycling Association has hired itself a new executive director.

My attention was elsewhere when the deal went down, and I don’t know what it means for The Organization. I may have met Scott Pankratz in the course of my wanderings, though I don’t recall doing so. I have met many people, many, many of them, and they have met some version of me.

In any case, he seems to have been involved in good works, co-founding (with wife Julie Osborn) the nonprofit Ecology Project International; serving on the boards of the Montana Community Foundation and the Montana Nonprofit Association; and riding the ol’ bikey-bikey from Hither to Yon and back again.

“My passion and enthusiasm as the incoming executive director at Adventure Cycling come directly from transformative moments in the saddle from Alaska to Mexico,” Pankratz said via press release. “I look forward to expanding our community to give everyone with a bike the confidence, community, and gratitude that is at the heart of the Adventure Cycling experience.”

Scott takes over from the departing Jim Sayer early next year. Best wishes to both.

Wak wak fuckin’ wak!

October 2, 2019

Hey, Donald! Duck!

Boy, Scrooge McDick is really starting to lose it down there in the vault. Y’think he found out Huey, Dewey, Louie, Donald, Daisy, Gladstone, and Goofy are all gonna flip?

Awtumn

October 1, 2019

O, ’tis a fine soft first day of October.

Fall, stat! Whoof, the Universe is on the ball today. No sooner is it October than boom, the gray skies, the likelihood of thunderboomers, and the yellowing of the maple leaves.

With the changing of the seasons in full swing those fat bastards in DeeCee no longer need fear breaking a gravy sweat as they continue stripping the Republic for salable parts.

Has the Grand Experiment finally failed? Is it time to return to a monarchy? Some people think so. Liberation from the drudgery of managing their own affairs certainly would free up scads of time for watching cute kitty videos, Instagramming their Starbucks orders, and piloting defective e-scooters into phone-thumbing pedestrians.

It’s beginning to look a lot like … October?

September 30, 2019

You really shouldn’t show a dog this many trees
after he’s had three cups of coffee.

Yes, that’s exactly what it appears to be: a Christmas display at the local Lowe’s, in September.

I think we all know what I want for Christmas (cough, cough, impeachment, removal, cough, cough).

But having been a very naughty boy indeed, I don’t expect to get it.

Well, I expect to get it, all right. But not that “it.”

‘Off with his head!’

September 30, 2019

What a card.

That old queen is at it again, this time questioning whether the chairman of the House Intelligence Committee, Rep. Adam B. Schiff, should be arrested for treason. For, y’know, like, being a big ol’ blue meanie, an’ stuff.

Writer on the storm

September 29, 2019

Smilin’ Jack isn’t the only fella in there, y’know.

My man Padraig at Red Kite Prayer is having a rough go of it lately — so much so that he has turned to ketamine therapy in his ongoing struggle with depression.

In a word, this takes huevos. In my misspent youth I dabbled with various psychedelics — mostly psilocybin, mescaline and LSD — and I don’t mind telling you that any or all of these can really pop the top off your Jack-in-the-box.

Thing is, Smilin’ Jack isn’t the only fella in there. And he isn’t always the first one to hit the door running.

It’s one thing to hitch a ride on the Magic Bus when you’re young and sprightly, with your script largely unwritten. I’m not certain I’d have the guts to screen my personal in-flight movie a half-century further on up the road. A lot of that footage is on the cranial cutting-room floor for a reason.

So chapeau to Padraig for having the courage to lift the lid (or rip off the Band-Aid) and face what’s underneath. And for inviting us to join him on the trip. I wish him health and happiness.

If you’ve enjoyed his work, why not pop round to his place to say so? I think he’d like to hear from you.

• Extra-credit reading: Scientific American on ketamine therapy. And William Styron’s “Darkness Visible: A Memoir of Madness.”