Cutting It Close: The Lawnmower Man

(Via a reader.)

On the day before yesterday, I mentioned luxury ice.  Well, little did I know that ice was so...hot.  In fact, ice is so incredibly trendy that way back in February, a black market ice dealer was arrested for stealing it from a glacier:

Apparently, the street value of this haul was £3,900, or almost 685,000 Albanian Lek:

Local media reported that last Friday police intercepted a refrigerated truck with an estimated £3,900 worth of illicit ice allegedly bound for whiskies, rums and cocktails in the capital Santiago.

That's a lotta Lek.

As I read this, I realized that if I'm ever going to make some real money (I do have millions of dollars, but it's all tied up in Nashbar discount codes) I'd better launch a high-end ice business.  My first thought was to market ice made from morning dew collected from the petals of the rare Rafflesia flower in the tropical forests of Indonesia, but after spending $10,000 to brew up a test batch I discovered it had the appearance and scent of urine after you've dined on asparagus.  Then I considered selling ice made from okapi tears, but I couldn't figure out how to make them cry.  (Take it from me, you can yell "Fuck you, okapi!" at those bastards until you're azure in the face, but the most you'll get is a twitch of the ears.)  Finally, it hit me--I'll get the ice from Uranus:

(You say "Your Anus," I say "Urine Us.")

Uranus is called the "Ice Giant," and after spending about nine seconds on Wikipedia it became clear to me that all I need to do is get past its outer gaseous hydrogen/helium envelope and then I can raid its icy mantle for all the luxury ice product I want.  Best of all, Uranus apparently contains "methane ice," and nothing complements a high-end cocktail like the smell of flatulence.  Just imagine sipping a nice peaty Scotch as the smell of farts from your melting Uranus Luxury Ice sphere gently wafts into your nostrils.  It's like strolling through a Scottish field full of gassy sheep.

Now all I need to do is launch my Kickstarter campaign and drum up the funds to build my Uranus 1 Intergalactic Space Ice Porteur Trike:

The money I save on gasoline will allow me to keep my ice prices below $1 billion per milligram.

Speaking of zany contraptions, Chris from Electra Bikes informs me that an enterprising man has finally invented a bicycle lawnmower:

Here's the inspiring story behind it:

The idea came to Hartman after years of riding racing bikes as a triathlete. He realized that a bicycle gear configuration could be applied to a lawnmower to achieve a high blade speed without a gasoline motor. Excited and hopeful, he immersed himself in a project that lasted six years. About a month ago, Hartman emerged with two patents and a product ready to show to the industry, named the "Cyclemower." Today, he uses it on his lawn to get a cut that he couldn't get before.

This truly represents a triumph of the human spirit, because it's hard to believe a triathlete actually managed to test ride a bicycle with thrashing blades for six years without either killing somebody or simply falling into its razor-sharp maw.

Also, here are some specs for the tech geeks out there:

When pushed, the reel with winding blades transforms into a red cylinder that snips the long grass against a fixed blade.

Yes, that's a fixed blade, or what hardcore lawn care enthusiasts call a "fixie."

Unfortunately, the purity of the fixed-blade mowercycle culture is bound to be short-lived, for it's only a matter of time before the Freds catch on to this as a cross-training technique and start creating Strava segments on their lawn:

Then the inevitable lawsuits will start popping up like dandelions, since you can pretty much count on some lawn Fred going overboard when he receives instant notification that someone has taken his King of the Garden honor.  Next thing you know he's putting on his time trial helmet, installing a pair of aero bars, and making minced meat of the neighbor's cat.

Meanwhile, in other landscaping tool news, a reader tells me that someone has finally designed a crabon axe:

It's about time that there was a more Fredly alternative to those Best Made axes, which, quite frankly, were always a little too retrogrouchy anyway:

(Best Made singlehandedly launched the "Urban Lumberdouche" movement.)

Though where else are you going to go for that $42 ruler?

Or that $48 cargo net?

I'm surprised forest rangers all over the country aren't constantly stumbling upon the decomposed corpses of inept urbanites surrounded by Best Made products.  Then again, I guess most of them have the sense to simply hang their purchases on their walls as decoration, or at most put them in the trunk of the Zipcar when they head out to the Hamptons.

Of course, as an inept urbanite myself, I'll be equipping myself with a crabon axe for my intergalactic Uranusian ice missions, and I'll also be equipping my Uranus 1 Intergalactic Space Ice Porteur Bike with a whimsically-decorated bike box:

Be sure to help them raise funds for a sewing machine:

Help us raise funds for a sewing machine to create the first designer bike boxes, handcrafted in the U.S.

Even though the video contains the incriminating evidence that they already have a sewing machine:

(Liars!!!)

However, the Boovabox is crafted with pride in the USA:

I'm not sure slip covers for milk crates signifies a return to our erstwhile greatness as a manufacturing nation, though it's definitely yet another sign that we've officially become the world's summer camp and that nobody can match our output when it comes to cranking out arts and crafts.

Also, it's pretty clear to me from the video that Kutztown, PA is the new Portland.  Furthermore, it's clear to me from this video that Minneapolis is the old Portland:

Which in turn means that Portland itself is now the new Cleveland.

By the way, I wanted to learn more about "Wheel Sexy," so I visited their website, where I learned how to make pasties with bike tubes:

Foolishly, I've just been using inner tube patches for pasties, which means that when I actually need them to fix a flat I'm always out of them.  Fortunately though, Brooklyn is full of burlesque supply shops now, so in a pinch I can always patch a tube with a pasty.  The one thing that doesn't work though is pulling the patch off your nipple and trying to re-use it on your inner tube--trust me, I've tried.

And finally, amidst all the negativity towards cyclists here in New York City lately, I was pleased to learn that at least one rider is gaining fame as a purse-retrieving vigilante:

saved my purse - w4m (Broadway&Bedford)
Date: 2012-08-15, 1:17AM EDT
Reply to: [deleted]

Out of nowhere you return my purse from a thief and I couldn't even thank you. It was all so shocking. I didn't know what to do. My internet savvy friend said this might work. Dear hero. Man on the bike. Let me know who you are. K

According to witnesses, he was wearing nothing but sequined briefs, a harlequin mask, and a pair of pasties.