Posts Tagged ‘Bernie Sanders’

Acid test

March 26, 2017

The back yard is flowering up at light speed.

As I fought my own losing battle with seasonal allergies on Friday it was a pleasant distraction to see Darth Cheeto and Paul “Lyin'” Ryan sound “Retreat” and skedaddle off into the swamp, their shit-stained tails tucked between their legs.

The weather here has abruptly become more seasonable, which is to say less awesome, but Herself and I got out for a 40-minute trail run yesterday. Her pink “Bernie” shirt accessorized nicely with the blooming foliage while my wheezing was just another instrument in the symphony of shortcomings that is the U.S. health-care system (albuterol inhalers just plain cost too fucking much, even without additional tax cuts for the rich).

For a guy whose stash box once made Walgreens look like Baskin-Robbins I have developed a surprising reluctance to take drugs, for anything, even asthma and allergies. Non-Drowsy Claritin-D 12 Hour (pseudoephedrine sulfate) reminds me of decent speed for the first couple of hours, but after that it’s all like, “Dude, where’s my cognitive functions?”

That said, when I saw I was down to my last two tabs I was all like, “Whoa!” and toddled off to the Walgreens for another box.

That shit don’t be cheap, neither. And you can’t just pull it off a shelf. No, you must negotiate with the pharmacist to get it (thanks, meth-heads). But once you show the whitecoats that (a) you have all your teefers; (2) aren’t furiously scratching any open sores; and (III) aren’t twitching like you just got tased by the John Laws, why, all you have to do is fork over the $23.99 for 20 tabs.

Shit, that’s about what I used to pay for acid in the good old days (dealer’s discount). It was loads more fun than Claritin-D, and I don’t recall my nose running, either.

Feeling the Bern’d out

May 21, 2016
Miss Mia Sopaipilla enjoys making a cave out of the coverlet on our bed.

Miss Mia Sopaipilla enjoys making a cave out of the coverlet on our bed.

Faugh. I think I have myself a medium-light sinus infection going on here. Just the ticket for a fella staring down a whole passel of deadlines.

Herself went downtown to catch Bernie’s act last night when he visited Duke City, but I stayed home and hit the sack early. The Giro d’Italia is ongoing, and I like to log in six-ish at Live Update Guy to give Charles Pelkey some immoral support (he’s generally been on since 3 a.m. or thereabouts).

As it happens, I was up around 5 ’cause I felt more or less like I’d been et by a coyote and shit off a smallish cliff. Blaugh.

The Giro has been … interesting. Maybe things would have turned out differently had the stage-9 ITT not been something of a swim leg, but to this point none of the big GC boyos has really taken hold, perhaps in part because the race is so keister-heavy, with most of the action coming in the final week.

Vincenzo Nibali (Astana) was briefly flummoxed today, but bounced back. Alejandro Valverde (Movistar) followed the wheels all day until suddenly he couldn’t. And now Estebán Chaves (Orica-GreenEdge) and Steven Kruiswijk (LottoNL-Jumbo) are looking very good indeed, as are Darwin Atapuma (BMC Racing), George Preidler (Giant-Alpecin) and Kanstantsin Siutsou (Dimension Data).

What is not looking so good is the Tip Jar. Earnings are way down from the 2015 Giro, and it could be that we’ve finally just worn out our welcome. Either that or we need some new wrinkles, and not just the ones in our faces, either. Auuuggghhh.

 

 

 

Wheels, meals and deals

October 27, 2015
The Marin Four Corners Elite. Look for it in the March 2016 issue of Adventure Cyclist.

The Marin Four Corners Elite. Look for it in the March 2016 issue of Adventure Cyclist.

Normalcy is beginning to rear its ugly head again (yeah, I know, I’ve said like this before and we all remember how long that generally lasts).

But for the moment, anyway, I’m back to practicing my trade (making shit up); cooking tasty and nutritious meals (tonight it’s either pasta al cavolfiore from “The Moosewood Cookbook” or pasta with smoked salmon from ‘The Feed Zone Cookbook”); and striving mightily to get some friggin’ exercise (short shakedown cruise on a new review bike yesterday).

Now and then I take a peek at the political news, which mostly makes me want to ring up the queen and beg her royal forgiveness. Does anybody really want to be president? Besides the Hilldebeast, I mean? Florida Man hates governingThe Donald and The Doctor keep trying to out-stupid each other, and it just keeps going downhill from that point, which in a sane country would be the bottom. Not here.

I have a soft spot for Bernie, because he’s at least half a pinko, but he’s asking America for a helluva lot more than a job, and you know what that means. Shiny object! Squirrel! Say, what was the old guy on about again?

Ah, well. The moon is full, the sun is shining, and if the stars seem slightly out of alignment, we’ll just have to live with it. America needs proctology, not astrology. Call it a headhunting expedition.