How many moments in a day?

The Soma Double Cross in light-shopper configuration.

It being World Bicycle Day, I thought I’d go for a run, then do some light resistance training.

I’m funny that way. Maybe not.

Still, days, weeks, months, and years don’t much interest me. I’m more about moments.

Anyway, the run was delightful. Lots of flowers around and about, on cacti and elsewhere. Headwind out, tailwind home. It was already 71 degrees by the time I started pounding ground at 8:30 in the a.m., so when I got home and started lifting I actually had to crack a window on the shady side of the house, let a little cool air into the “gym.”

I did get out on a bike, eventually. Herself was out of rosé, and since no less an authority than the United Nations has described the bicycle as “a simple, affordable, reliable, clean and environmentally fit sustainable means of transportation,” I decided to cycle up to the grocery to fetch some.

Rosé, not bicycles. Bicycles we got, and then some.

Didn’t see a single grizzly, but then I wasn’t on a mountain bike. Anyway, I was focused on the automobiles, which are a good deal more numerous than grizzlies and even deadlier.

Speaking of deadly, there was a time when Apple could’ve nailed me with a new Mac Pro. But this ain’t it. Doing my little bit of business with one of these bad boys would be like using Thor’s Mjölnir as a tack hammer.

Curb your enthusiasm

It was one of those days. First we saw the hare; then we saw the tortoise. They weren’t racing, though.

Herself noticed this armored gent during our ride through High Desert this morning, and I inquired whether he knew Mitch McConnell.

“That asshole,” he replied. “Fuck that guy. He’s a snake on his mother’s side, you know. Gives us all a bad name.”

e-DWI

The operator of this gas-powered scooter was appallingly sober.

In less than a week after rentable electric scooters hit the mean streets of Albuquerque, we’ve collected our first e-DWI. ¡Salud!

I suppose we could look on the bright side here. Had our early adopter not gotten popped for allegedly e-scooting under the influence — the cops say she got all beered up at Marble Brewery and had planned to hit at least one more grog shop downtown — she probably would’ve clambered into her land yacht and driven home to Belen, an hour or so to the south, depending on how many ditches and medians one inspects en route.

Or tried to, anyway. ¿Quien sabes? Having had some small experience in these matters I expect it’s a lot easier to hide one’s impairment from the John Laws behind the tinted windows of a four-wheeled Ford than on one of their two-wheeled throwaways.

President Fullo Schidt

I always thought it was bullshit when they told us in school, “In this country, anyone can grow up to become president.” But it turns out that the only thing they got wrong was the part about growing up. Oh, yeah: And I think they meant “anyone human,” too.

Remind me why anyone, anywhere, including the people who work for him, would think that this pendejo isn’t basically a 300-pound parakeet entranced by his own reflection?

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