Posts Tagged ‘Quentin Ferrentino’

The big show

January 6, 2021

Let’s not start sucking each other’s — well, you know — quite yet.

Well.

Keeping the advice of the redoubtable Winston Wolf in mind, the news out of Georgia seems … well, frankly, astonishing. Shit, I might ask for a recount, and these are my people we’re talking about here.

Next in the spotlight is what should be a routine confirmation, during a joint session of Congress, of Sleepy Joe’s victory in the Electoral College. One small step for man, one giant leap toward issuing that eviction notice effective Jan. 20.

Yet again, we acknowledge the wisdom of The Wolf.

The Turtle has many tricks up his shell, as does the Flying Monkey Caucus. Also, Adolf Twitler’s Brown Noses are in the streets, and one wonders how many more are wearing brass hats in the Pentagon.

And Mike Ha’pence, the Envelope Opener-in-Chief, is such a fence-straddling chickenshit that you will never find his feet firmly on the ground on one side of an issue.

Particularly this one. His bet was called and now he has to show his hand, which contains nothing but an envelope full of bad news for his dumb ass. He has peered timidly into the future and seen that neither Jesus nor history will treat him kindly, if indeed the Republic survives to have a history that chronicles his craven, self-serving obesiance to a dime-store dictator, and that our posterity retains enough literacy to read it.

All he can do is dance like a puppet, one final time. But to whose tune? One foot to one beat, the other to another, as per usual. No matter who’s holding his strings for this final performance on the American political stage, he will never be a real boy.

He’s gonna have one helluva nose, though. Stained a deep and odiferous brown, too.

• Update: Well, Adolf’s Brown Noses aren’t in the streets anymore. They’re in the Capitol. Naturally, they didn’t check their white privilege at the door. These dudes were Black, they’d have been dead 10 times already. I also seem to recall a rather robust response to Vietnam War protests in the vicinity. But them was hippies, so, whatevs.

The lighter side of the news, from
the Atlanta Journal-Constitution.

• Update No. 2: Mother Times calls it for Ossoff in Georgia, which means the Donks have the Senate. Storm that, motherfuckers.

• Update No. 3: Rep. Ilhan Omar (D-Minn.) tweets that she’s drawing up articles of impeachment against Adolf Twitler. Sounds a bit like horses and barn doors, but there has been discussion of this elsewhere as a prophylactic measure to keep the stubby ginger dick from rising again. The National Association of Manufacturers, meanwhile, called on Ha’Pence to A25 his boss’s fat ass. Yeah, good luck with that. He’s already soiled his armor.

• Update No. 4: Charlie Pierce has gone full “throw the rascal out.” And as usual, I agree. Adolf Twiter goes out on his fat ass, Ha’Pence gets to be president for a few days, and then the shovels and mops come out. Sure, maybe he wants to get tossed out, and then have Ha’Pence pardon him, a la Nixon-Ford. Still, sez Chazbo: “Leaving him in place even for an hour would be the final dereliction of duty, and we have had far too many of those. Force him out. Do it now. Complicity is its own dark reward.”

Hang around awhile

May 16, 2016

Free at last

April 22, 2014
My No. 2 Steelman Eurocross, a.k.a. Big Red.

My No. 2 Steelman Eurocross, a.k.a. Big Red.

It was Ride the Neglected Bike Day again yesterday. The office was feeling a bit cramped, what with all the computers, books, cartooning tools, audio-video equipment, and voices in my head, and having a bike clamped to a trainer in there — even if that bike was a Steelman Eurocross — didn’t exactly help matters.

So I liberated the Eurocross and myself from bondage. The tire pile in the garage included a serviceable pair of 700×35 Maxxis Razes, so I slapped ’em on and rolled over to Palmer Park to make a fool of myself on the single-track for a spell.

This is one of my old eight-speed racing bikes from back in the day, and like all the others it’s been through some changes, so I forget what I’ve got on it drivetrain-wise — seems likely it’s either 46/34 chainrings with a 12-26 cassette or 48/36 with a 12-28 — but you’d be surprised how well an old feller can go uphill on a bike that’s five or six pounds lighter than what he usually rides.

Today I was back on the Kona Sutra, which is next in line for an Adventure Cyclist video shoot — the old Quentin Ferrentino treatment, ho ho ho. The Sutra weighs 27.2 pounds without pedals, wears a pair of 700×32 Continental Contacts, and no, I did not ride it up any sketchy bits of single-track, thank you very much. Not even in the granny gear.

But I have some burly off-road rubber in that tire pile, and with the Sutra’s racks and fenders off I bet I can squeeze some fatties on, and then look out, Palmer Park. Bologna on a Kona, comin’ through!

Hi-def’, where is thy sting?

October 8, 2013
I had a little fun shooting the video of the Jones bike. There's plenty of room for gadgetry on that 66cm H-bar; I was going to add a flower vase, but ran out of hose clamps.

I had a little fun shooting the video of the Jones bike. There’s plenty of room for gadgetry on that 66cm H-bar; I was going to add a flower vase, but ran out of hose clamps.

In comments, Patrick O’B. asks whether I’m having trouble deciding which bike to ride since adding a nifty Jones rigid-specific 29er to the Mad Dog fleet.

Nope.

I haven’t been on a bike of any type for a week — a terrorist wasp nailed me in my left ankle during a hike last Wednesday, the sonofabitch swelled up to the size and shade of a ruby-red Texas grapefruit (the ankle, not the terrorist wasp), and I have whiled away the hours since full of Benadryl and bad ideas, trying to get a metric shit-ton of work done with my shoeless left leg propped up on a box.

And the weather has been picture-postcard, Chamber of Commerce, fall-in-Colorado perfect, too.

Gah.

The Co-Motion Divide Rohloff got its closeup today.

The Co-Motion Divide Rohloff got its closeup today.

I did get out for a short while today. The ankle looks more or less like an ankle again, rather than a botulistic bratwurst, and I needed to shoot a bit of HD video for an online review of the Co-Motion Divide Rohloff, having just wrapped production on a Jones video. So I spazzed around in Palmer Park for an hour, playing Quentin Ferrentino with a couple of dusty old Hero 3 Black Editions.

The Adventure Cyclist gang and I met with the GoPro people at Interbike, but only editor Mike Deme walked away with one of the new Hero 3+ dinguses, though I thought I batted my eyelashes most fetchingly at the product guy. Bitch.

So I had to make do with obsolete technology in my latest projects, and as usual it is the little people — you, the viewing public — who must suffer.

Still, that makes two videos in two days. Stick that in your hobbit-pipe and smoke it, Peter Jackson.