We're so, so fucked:
Wow, it's a wonder that with our life-giving cocoon of "safety traffic" drivers still manage to wage a campaign of destruction across the city:Late but strong entry for “silliest thing said by public official in 2016.”https://t.co/jjXq7fCIUA pic.twitter.com/2fetKpw7ma— Brad Aaron (@BradAaron) December 21, 2016
And these are the drivers who aren't even trying. Imagine if they actually had a terrorist agenda!Can't watch HBO Go without an access code but starting your deadly weapon with a suspended license? No problem!https://t.co/mIYdaXsaJz— Bike Snob NYC (@bikesnobnyc) December 21, 2016
Also, I'm no physicist or counterterrorism expert, but I'm fairly sure that even a driver sitting in a traffic jam could cause a pretty decent amount of death and mayhem if he decided to steer his massively powerful vehicle off the street and into a crowded marketplace.
And let's not forget that there's a handy app for terrorists specifically designed to allow them to avoid traffic jams and inflict maximum damage with their motorized weapons, and it's called "Waze."
But yeah, I'm sure crosstown traffic is going to save us.
Anyway, before we go any further I should let you know that I'm OUTTA HERE as of today. That's right, barring any urgent news or updates you won't be seeing a new post on this webular blog until the year 2017--which, incidentally, is the "Year of the Shitshow" according to the Chinese zodiac:
(Looks like I picked the wrong year to stop sniffing glue.)
More specifically, I'll see you all back here on Wednesday, January 4th, Two Thousand and Seventeen, so mark your sexy fireman calendars:
Those hunks can extricate my charred corpse from beneath some smoldering wreckage anytime.
By the way, 2017 will mark my tenth year of blogging, and which means in the coming year I'll either redouble my efforts or retire. Which will it be? You'll have to keep tuning in to find out.
Speaking of sniffing glue, I'm on my second consecutive cold, which puts me in the market for an over-the-counter decongestant:
Fluimucil is of course the product Sir Dave Brailsford claims was inside Sir Bradley Wiggins's codpiece. I mean package:
And while we all know this is a load of crap, VeloNews has a nice little piece explaining why it's a load of crap:
– The package was sent from Manchester to France with British Cycling coach Simon Cope. Second question: Fluimucil can be purchased at any French or Italian pharmacy for less than $10, so why ship it all the way from Manchester?
– Fluimucil is not readily available in Britain, where its active ingredient is not approved for inhalation in the UK. Third question: Where did you buy it in Manchester?
– Fluimucil can have dangerous side-effects for asthmatics like Wiggins. Fourth question: Wait, why give this to Wiggins if it can hurt him?
So basically they're claiming they flew in an over-the-counter drug from the UK, where it's not available, into France, where it is available. That's like going to Colorado and having your weed flown in from New York City even though you're staying around the corner from Floyd's of Leadville:
By the way, Floyd's forearms are even hairier than his buds:
Actually I'm not even sure those are his arms. It may be a Sasquatch sneaking up behind him in order to strangle him.
Anyway, I'm not sure why people subject themselves to bullshit faith-based forms of entertainment such as religion and sports, as the mental gymnastics required to maintain any semblance of belief in them are profoundly exhausting. It seems to me you're much better off ignoring both and sticking to books and movies and stuff. After all, you can always believe in art. But what do I know? I'm just one of those urban elites standing in the way of making America great again.
Speaking of the sport of professional excuse-making while riding bicycles under the influence of performance-enhancing drugs, remember that ridiculous chain-lubing contraption? Well, a professional excuse-making team is actually using it:
Okay, firstly, everybody knows Lube-As-You-Ride™ is a trademark of Mario Cipollini Industries, Ltd., so they're going to be in one big oily heap of trouble:
("You a-gonna hear from my lawyers.")
Cipollini's legal team consists of a group of men who walk into the office in business suits, produce a boom box from a briefcase, and proceed to strip on the conference table.
Secondly, there's no way they're actually going to use those stupid gizmos to lube their chains. Instead they're just going to take the sponsorship money and use them as ballast to get their plastic bikes up to the UCI weight limit. Actually turning them on would only be a liability.
Thirdly, it's clear from the company's own claims that the lube isn't even real:
So what happens if the excess fluid flings onto a braking surface? We asked that very question, and got the following reply: "Due to the washable element it does not affect braking surfaces. The heat applied to these surfaces burns the fluid off extremely quickly and does not affect performance or contaminate braking pads."
Uh, if it basically vanishes the moment it's introduced to heat or moisture how the hell could it possibly be doing anything to mitigate drivetrain friction in the first place?
You might as well put Fluimucil on your chain.
Given the fact that there's absolutely no future in covering the sport of professional cycling it's clear the cycling press is going to have to seek new forms of content for 2017, which could be why Bicycling is now writing about bike-hunting:
According to Bicycling editor Bill Strickland some readers are canceling their subscriptions due to the subject matter. This is remarkable when you consider they've presumably already suffered through innumerable fluffy bike reviews, all manner of spurious dieting advice, and even at one point my tedious columns. So after putting up with all that you pull the plug now just because Fred Nugent shot an elk? That's like bailing on the Fondo after you've already passed under the flamme rouge.
I mean sure, as a MetroCard-carrying member of the urban elite I don't really get hunting, but I understand there's a way to do it responsibly, and if this guy wants to live like the New Age version of Bill Murray's character in "Caddyshack" that's his business:
Teo is no typical hunter, and not only because he rides a bike instead of a clattering, petroleum-stink ATV. A former vegetarian, former moviemaker, former chef, former New Mexico state tennis champion, and former Olympic rower, he writes poetry while he’s hunting, dictating in whispers into his phone, and earns his living as a massage therapist. In his office there’s a low-budget stereo system that alternates between Dido and Tibetan chanting, a painting of a peyote bird rising spirit-like from a sleeping human figure toward the morning star, and bullets in 16 different calibers on the windowsill.
And just wait until Specialized starts making hunting bikes. Machismo is their specialty after all:
Companies like Kuiu and Cogburn may be taking the stereotype out of hunting, but it’s almost impossible to lose the machismo. To go after the big bull is to test oneself. The bigger the rack, the bigger the elk, and the better your family will eat through winter—there’s no cleaving those relationships. What those who have never stalked elk may not grasp is that the biggest, most magnificent animals got that way through wiliness. They come out only at dark, amass a harem of cows to stand watch, and can run like the possessed.
The Specialized S-Works Second Amendment™ will make bike-hunting great again.
It should also be noted that Bicycling readers were in such a tizzy over the hunting that they forgot to complain that he's doing it without a helmet:
Meanwhile, in Melbourne, Australia, police are reeling over the fact that a woman was attacked by a slasher even though she was wearing a foam hat:
Detective Leading Senior Constable Gerard Whelan described the attack as "vicious" and said it appeared to be "random and unprovoked".
He believed the woman was heading home on her bike and said that she was "wearing a bike helmet, doing all the right things and just going about her business".
Wow. If you're looking for the moment when the helmet officially stopped being a piece of safety gear and became a symbol of morality like a yarmulke or a hijab then here it is. And we can only imagine what he'd have said if the victim hadn't been wearing one.
And with that, I go boldly into the holiday abyss. Enjoy yours, ride safe, and I'll see you back here on Wednesday, January 4th, 2017.
Until then, I remain, yours and so forth,
--Wildcat Rock Machine