Thursday, January 19, 2012

Disillusioned: Sampling the Menu of Disappointment

The Loch Ness Monster. Sasquatch. Larry King. For centuries people have sought these horrific legendary beasts. Some insist they are merely fantastical, while others maintain they are as real as Jesus's hatred of Buddhists (Are you kidding? Jesus fucking hated Buddhists!) and thus dedicate their lives to pursuing these creatures. For years, I too have been engaged in such a pursuit, and I'm pleased to report I've finally managed to photograph my quarry.

The day was yesterday, January whatever-it-was, and it was about the time of day when most people are thinking about what to have for lunch but extremely lazy people are finally dragging themselves out of bed and into the bathroom to scrub the red wine stains from their lips. I had just scrubbed the red wine stains off my lips, mounted my Scattante, and sallied forth into New York City's hated bicycle infrastructure, when I spotted the fabled rider I had been seeking for years--The Barefoot Bike Salmon of Brooklyn:

Granted, he didn't actually start salmoning until the next intersection, but as you can see he is clearly barefoot:

Also, I know it's The Barefoot Bike Salmon of Brooklyn and not just another random barefoot bicyclist on his way home after a picnic in the park, because this was the weather yesterday and only The Barefoot Bike Salmon of Brooklyn has the formidable foot callouses that permit him to ride a bicycle with metal pedals in the winter while unshod:

Unfortunately however I was unable to capture him, and therefore was also unable to claim the million-dollar bounty that the American Podiatric Medical Association has placed on his head (or, more accurately, his feet). Podiatrists believe that if they can unlock the mystery of his mighty footpads then they will also be able to use this knowledge to cure a host of disorders that have afflicted the human foot since the time we started walking upright, from hallux valgus to the dreaded unguis incarnatus. Sadly though, I will have to continue my search if I am ever to become a member of the 1%.

Still, I was glad I finally saw him, because I was starting to become disillusioned and instead am now filled with hope. I have, however, become quite disillusioned with Australia, which I had previously imagined as a quirky Edenic paradise where the toilets flush backwards and the koalas lovingly pick lice out of your hair while kangaroos box people of note for your amusement. As it turns out though, it's apparently just as awful a place as America is (at least if you ride a bike), and as you may have heard by now some Australian sports douche has attacked a cyclist with his car.

The sports douche is some guy named Shane Warne, and it's a good thing Wikipedia is back online because I was able to find out who he is:

Shane Keith Warne (born 13 September 1969) is a former Australian international cricketer widely regarded as one of the greatest bowlers in the history of the game.

I thought bowling was the thing with the alleys and the pins and the funny shoes, so I'm not sure why that has any bearing on his cricket career. Then again, I deeply hate all organized ball sports ("pocket pool" being among the few exceptions) as well as most organized non-ball sports, so I'm probably missing something. I was also surprised to learn that there is apparently doping in cricket, since Shane Warne failed a drug test:

His career was plagued by scandals off the field; these included a ban from cricket for testing positive for a prohibited substance, charges of bringing the game into disrepute through accepting money from bookmakers and marital infidelities.

My surprise was due to the fact that cricket looks about as strenuous as playing croquet, so I wondered what performance-enhancing drug they could possibly be using. Presumably it's just something to keep them awake. I don't mean to single out cricket, by the way. Baseball also looks about as strenuous as playing croquet to me, though I suppose it's a bit harder than cricket since the players also have to do it while being considerably overweight.

Unlike in America, though, the police are taking action against the assailant:

Police spoke to the cyclist and Warne but said there would be no further action.

Oh, sorry, they're not.

By the way, even though America is slipping from its coveted position as Most Awesomest Country in the Whole Wide World, I'd like to think that we're still at least the undisputed global leader in idiotic bicycle-related news article commentary. Unfortunately though I think we've finally lost that as well, since Australians seem to have us beat by a kalometer kolamater Euro-mile:

I'm with Warnie on this one. The guy deserves to have his bike damaged after riding in front of him in an aggressive manner. There should be more of it so thst riders learn their place. They think they have rights, but so do us motorists.

That's some impressive idioting right there. I give that comment five non-opposable thumbs up.

As for Warne, he cut out the middleman and took his idioting straight to his Twitter:

I don't consider myself particularly smart, but I had to watch five hours of quality PBS programming just to get the taste of stupid out of my mouth.

Speaking of disillusionment, you'll be disillusioned to learn that Williamsburg is no longer the hipster capitol of the United States, having in recent years passed that intangible threshold between "youthful exuberance" and "upscale douchery." For example, you used to find the track bikes locked up in front of bars or underneath people trackstanding interminably, but now you find them on the backs of Porsche SUVs instead:

The above photo was taken by a reader, and it's a perfect encapsulation of the evolution of the fixed-gear "culture."

In fact, disillusionment is so widespread these days that Portlanders are even growing disillusioned with Portland, as in this gripping (in that it will grip you with nausea) narrative that was forwarded to me by another reader:

(Portlanders on the loose!)

In it, two people find themselves experiencing the sort of vague dissatisfaction you can only feel if you've never, ever had a moment of adversity in your entire life, and so they decide to leave the safety of the "hipster belt" and work for free:

Jenne and I were both raised in Seattle, we began dating in Brooklyn, N.Y., and we moved together to Portland. We had been born and bred in blue America. Our parents held college degrees, professional jobs and predictable points of view on issues like reproductive rights, marriage equality and preemptively launched wars. We were raised to believe in recycling, temperance and respecting other people’s differences.

Recently, however, we had begun to feel a little disillusioned with the culture. The brew pubs and brunch spots. The high-class cafes and cheapo burrito shops. The happy hours and house pets and crass condo construction. We were tired of the hipsters, with their gaudy mustaches and flannel shirts, unimpressed with the environmentalists, with their blinkered social concern and preening sense of self-righteousness, disgusted by the corporate shills, with their shimmering cocktails and newly minted lofts, and put off by the housewives piling their shopping carts high.

After 25 years surrounded by such people, we were looking for something new. Farming provided us with a point of departure.

So essentially what's happening here is that the cultural phenomenon that is "hipsterism" is now in the process of doubling over on itself and is seeking an alternative to its own alternative. Also, in true spoiled child fashion, now that people in places like Brooklyn and Portland have every single toy they ever wanted they apparently don't want to play with them anymore. Of course, when actual spoiled children lose interest in their toys they decide they want to play with forbidden things, like glass and pieces of scrap metal. But when adult children tire of their toys they become fascinated by forbidden people, like "hicks" and "rednecks" and "conservatives."

And so our heroes restyle themselves as hipster migrant workers and go to work on organic farms in the south:

Jenne and I mostly work the weeds.

I bet you do.

They also have thrilling brushes with danger, like actually meeting people who tuck their shirts in and who vote differently from them:

Mark and Lindsay hardly look like volunteer farmers: He has bright blond hair sculpted in the military style and a stiff collared shirt tucked into blue jeans, while his wife wears a shy smile and a skirt covering her knees....

After the conversation turns to politics, Mark expresses regret about John McCain’s recent electoral defeat, while Lindsay professes to liking Ron Paul. Neither has even heard of our favored choice, Dennis Kucinich.

Amazingly, they not only survive this encounter, but also learn that uncool people actually have feelings too:

After we discover Mark has suffered a recent death in his family, as I have in mine, we talk grief, loss and the protracted process of healing.

"Wait, when someone in your family died you got upset? Me too, I totally hate that!," I can hear the narrator saying. I'm sure Mark felt validated when the Portlanders actually condescended to acknowledge his humanity.

But they're not out of danger yet, and soon they fall victim to a cruel Dickensian mistress:

It doesn’t take much to recognize the woman is having a hard time. She is moody, self-absorbed and difficult to communicate with. (“You ask too many questions,” she admonishes after Jenne attempts to clarify an instruction.) She feeds us inorganically and sometimes not enough. (Dinner the first two nights consists of corn dogs and potato chips.) Our sleeping area, which doubles as the packing room for her CSA (Community Supported Agriculture: a subscription program by which farmers provide produce to urban consumers), is open to the public, not to mention cramped and hot.

You may scoff at the notion that feeding someone inorganic food is tantamount to cruelty, but you have to understand that sheltered hipsters like this are simply unable to process the food additives that the rest of us consume so easily. See, we take the ability to occasionally eat diner food and deli sandwiches for granted, but a simple side of inorganic cole slaw is enough to send these people into anaphylactic shock. Incidentally, if you're ever traveling with a sheltered hipster and he has a bad reaction to a corn chip or a turkey sandwich, simply pass a locally-foraged truffle under his nose so that he can smell "the intoxicating smell of semen that the tubers emit--known to foodies as the truffle umami." It's the "woosie" equivalent of an epinephrine shot.

Anyway, I suspect that by feeding them corn dogs the Dickensian farmer just enjoyed watching them squirm. I also suspect she called the next farmer and told them how funny it was because he just fed them cat food:

We eat even worse with Joe than we did in Texas. Hot dogs and TV dinners, packaged ham and cups of noodles, canned vegetables and canned meat: The man’s diet runs the gamut of cheap, mass-produced quasi-edibles. One night, the roast beef rolled into my tortilla tastes suspiciously like cat food.

Incidentally, the reason he knows what cat food tastes like is because food trucks for pets are all the rage in Portland and it's easy to get confused.

But while it may seem like all these wayward Portlanders did was alternately do some gardening and complain about the food, the truth is they learned profound lessons about life:

But our trip was about more than just farming. It was about pushing ourselves outside of our comfort zones, shedding some of our prejudices about what makes a life worth living, and opening to another way.

In some small way, it was about growing up.

Of course it was. They did fail to learn one lesson though, which is that if they wanted to eat processed foods while mingling with people who are broke and lack fashion sense, then they could have saved themselves a lot of time and just gone to the nearest Walmart.

By the way, if you want to know more about the author, here's his bio:

Alex Gallo-Brown's essays have appeared in Bookslut, The Rumpus, The Brooklyn Rail, and The Collagist, among other publications. He is currently working on a manuscript of poems about grief.

I'm really hoping there's a poem in there called "They Made Us Eat Cat Food."

If not, I'll be deeply disillusioned.


Anonymous said...

-fixed gear

Anonymous said...


Kenny said...

I like to ride it where I like!

Anonymous said...


Anonymous said...


Anonymous said...


Anonymous said...

On like Donkey Kong!

Anonymous said...

These pretzels are makin me THIRSTY!

Anonymous said...

forming an exploratory committee to get into the race

Velocodger said...

Cat 6 1st!

Anonymous said...

Pass the cheese wiz.

Anonymous said...


Anonymous said...


MGB said...

My cats breath smells like cat food.

Anonymous said...

Top Twenty?? Cough cough.....BTW, GOLD Snobby GOLD!!

grog said...

My cat has a hipster belt!

Paul Bowen said...

I think you mean medal petals.

grog said...

Babe spotted at 2:03
Thanks Snobby.
Life is good again.

Anonymous said...

Those frozen corn dogs are sex toys.
Slim Jim's are for eating.

Anonymous said...

I made out with that cricketeer. Good time until he insisted on shaving my balls.

Oh YEahhhhhhh. said...

My cats breath smells like cat food.

Oh Noooooooooo said...

Oh out of the top 20 and I'm a duplicate.

BobbyZoots said...


Anonymous said...

Make those silly kids eat dirt and gnaw bark off trees.

crosspalms said...

Cat food is the new yuppie brunch culture.

Anonymous said...

I am confused by "born and bred" he a Kentucky horse?

Anonymous said...

I passed out during the black-out.

McFly said...


Anonymous said...

This one beats Tilford. Today.

Anonymous said...

Anon 12:44

Well said. All of those hipsters should do the crash course.

Anonymous said...

They didn't eat cat food, they ate actual cat. Cats have more meat than squirrel, and their pelts have more pretty colors. Your really poor if you have to wear squirrel.

The King of Park Slope said...

He is currently working on a manuscript of poems about grief.

Of course he is.

Paul Bowen said...

We knew Shane Warne is an arsehole - fake tan, frosted weave, mincey metrosexual clothing - but I'd put that down to the malign influence of Liz Hurley. However it seems the arseholiness goesw a lot deeper than that. I preferred him when he was fat, thinning and the greatest spinner, maybe the greatest bowler, ever seen. With his first delivery in England he removed Mike Gatting's off stump with a ball that pitched well outside the line of leg stump, simply extraordinary. Gatting literally couldn't believe that what had happened had happened.

Anonymous said...

We who are about to post anonymously salute you!

Anonymous said...

Cat food taco....meow!

Buffalo Bill said...

It seems like every the porsche cayenne is the grail suv for the aspiring douchebag. I get more close passes from them I do from pickup trucks.

Paul Bowen said...

Had to look up corn dog on popular user-generated online encyclopedia. Eew. Never tasted one but they look like used diarrhea tampons.

Anonymous said...

Tillford was just trying to get some pussy road kill.

Buffalo Bill said...

My comment would probably make more sense if the word 'every' was removed. But either way, I hate cayenne drivers.

shu-sin said...

i just vomited my cat-food burrito reading this.

recumbent conspiracy theorist said...

The boxing match was funny. Thanks for that.

Anonymous said...

I happen to own and drive a Porche Cayenne. It is unlike anything I have ever driven. Don't knock it if you can never try it.
Mark Benton

Anonymous said...

At least barefoot guy is using his helment to good effect, protecting his ass-hat.

Anonymous said...


Excellent manuscript today. I liked the cayenne with fixies alot. I urge you to keep up the good work. Also, the praknig lot area of Levis GranFondue has similiar thematics, but with thousands of examples which make for a really nice gradient (RED cayennes with save-the-whales license plates, the same but with roof racks, the same but with punk stikerz, then again in grey, then blue etc etc.)

Anonymous said...

Hold on Tilford and Mark Benton...I am firing up the Pussy Wagon.

-spike lemming

Anonymous said...

Paul Bowen - the corn dog is truely an instrument of mass destruction. When I lived in the south, I never saw a thin person eat one. It was always the obese.
Just saying.


Oonagh said...

I fed stones and cast iron pans to Cucullin. That's how you feed someone inorganically.

There's more than one way to rid yourself of unwanted visitors.

Anonymous said...

Luxury and conformity never looked better now that we truly understand what it means to be poor.

Esteemed Commenter DaddoOne said...

Dude, you are the worst photographer....

you managed to take a salmoning barefooted rider, catch him not salmoning, in a way where we can hardly make out he is bare foot and at an angle that only makes us wonder why he isn't wearing his hement.

seriously, learn to use that thing.

when are you coming over for that beer?

Buy-cycle said...

Well done snob, I hope you're proud of yourself. No seriously, flawless as always. Also Shane warne often appears late night on UK television advertising hair loss products. Knowledge is power. Top 50?

Anonymous said...

I got excited at first. I thought you found a non-ironic fixedgear pie plate.

Anonymous said...

All of this cat food talk makes me feel like I have hair in my mouth.

bikesgonewild said... the 'old' days when you went out to visit a commune, they fed you basic, healthy brown rice n' veggies after you helped out working in the garden...

...after smoking a 'fattie', it all tasted like ambrosia...

...stupid hipster-farmer wannabees get cat food & corn dogs...bwahahaha...

McFly said...

My boy put CATFOOD in an empty foil bag of beernuts one time and left it on the counter and my wife chucked them down and hilarity ensued. "These meow mix's are makin' me thirsty."

Esteemed Commenter DaddoOne said...

I looked up used diarrhea tampons.

They DO NOT look like corn dogs

Marcel Da Chump said...

You couldn't catch Barefoot?

First Time Commenter said...

You missed an opportunity: the australians have actually beaten us by a koalameter.

Anonymous said...

Cadel could do a lot worse...

JB said...

Smugness overload with these two adult-childs.

wishiwasmerckx said...

We should bowl a googly on Shane Warner's ass.

Men @ Work said...


Anonymous said...

"... our favored choice, Dennis Kucinich."

.025% 'ers

wishiwasmerckx said...

Cadel's wife has a pretty good fashion sense, although I strongly suspect that Cadel gets off while she spanks his bare bottom with that sweet wide belt.

wishiwasmerckx said...

Their sleeping area was open to the public, but they figured that if the barnyard animals could mate in public unselfconsciously, why couldn't they?

Anonymous said...

you're online!
we can read your posts.

just sayin'

Etherhuffer said...

Oh those Portlanders...

Reminds of a quote from long ago:
Earnestness is just ignorance all dressed up and sent of to college.

Anonymous said...


Cat food not roast beef,

They made us eat Meow Mix

Corn dogs are better.

Dave said...

Mmmmmmmm......inorganic corn dogs.

Anonymous said...

Anon 1:21

That is what you get for eating your cats butt.

Anonymous said...

Wait a second...I thought I was the only Anon around here?

Ben Levy said...

"Jenne and I mostly work the weeds".

Works for me too.

Anonymous said...

These educated adult-childs should get their own garden.

And learn what words mean:
Process - to convert (an agricultural commodity) into marketable form

See, that's a definition, not a euphemism.

Grow up.

Anonymous said...

How does one make pedals out of medals?

Anonymous said...

Wow you are getting good at this blogging thing, thanks!

mikeweb said...

"pocket pool"

What's with the quotes? That's NOT a real sport?

Anonymous said...

I bet Recumbabe could catch Barefoot (and she wears no clothes in 23 degree weather).

The comments under Shane's article go into overhashed issues about bikers riding the roads for free and reigistration...

I bet his car is worth more than that cyclists life!

Anonymous said...

Shane Keith Warne of the hair plugs.

Marcel Da Chump said...

corndogs on my plate
and potato chips for dinner
my innards gurgled in confusion
l asked my hostess, "is this organic?"
and she replied,
"you ask too many questions"

Anonymous said...

Cat food makes me horny.

Anonymous said...

"Recently, however, we had begun to feel a little disillusioned with the culture. The brew pubs and brunch spots. The high-class cafes and cheapo burrito shops. The happy hours and house pets and crass condo construction. We were tired of the hipsters, with their gaudy mustaches and flannel shirts, unimpressed with the environmentalists, with their blinkered social concern and preening sense of self-righteousness, disgusted by the corporate shills, with their shimmering cocktails and newly minted lofts, and put off by the housewives piling their shopping carts high." Assholes. The one thing "we" apparently aren't tired of is breezy language with too may adjectives. And by the way, how dare those hispters wear something cheap and comfortable like flannel! You dang-shur don't find us red-staters wearing flannel--oh, wait, no, we sort of invented wearing flannel. And still wear it.

Anonymous said...

"The Loch Ness Monster. Sasquatch. Larry King." You forgot the thing that lives on Donald Trump's head. Also Newt Gingrich's soul, Mitt Romney's personality, and Obama's credentials as a liberal.

Anonymous said...

Only a scaredy Wildcat fears approaching a salmoning barefoot in the wild.

Anonymous said...

Have you ever encountered a pack of angry beavers salmoning in your urban environment?

Anonymous said...

Actually, Jesus was a pretty good Buddhist, except for that anger thing. He definitely had a problem with anger.

Matt said...

I like cricket. I have no fucking clue how it's scored, but every once in a while the game stops and everyone has tea and biscuits. It's ever so civilized.

Anonymous said...

It always bums me out when I am expecting Pad Thai and Panang Curry and instead I get a couple corn dogs and cream of corn.

Paul Bowen said...

Anon @1.08. Hardly surprising!

leroy said...

As long as we're collecting poems of grief:

I saw a barefoot bike salmon with only time on his hands
Riding near Park Slope in the rain
I remember wondering "Wha Dee Fook"
"That guy really ought to lube his chain."

Aaahoo, Barefoot in Brooklyn.
Aaahoo, Barefoot in Brooklyn.

He's the hairy legged gent
Who runs amok on Kent.
Lately he's been spotted out near Flatbush.
You better stay away from him
He'll tear your SPDs off, Jim.
Huh, you ought to see his trailer...

Aaahoo, Bike Salmon of Brooklyn....

I saw a Bike Salmon in Brooklyn buying Fair Trade Coffee at Trader Joe's.
And his hair was perfect....

bikesgonewild said...

...ever the subtle one, i just left an 'enquiry / comment' on shane warne's website...

..."...why are you such a fucking douche when it comes to regarding cyclists, shaney guy gets in your face & so now you're gonna attack all cyclists ???...

...they say you're the best bowler in cricket, bar none, mate & that's great but how about waking the fuck up & stop being such a self centered prick ???...

...sincecerly, bgw..."

...i shall inform you of mr warne's reply, should i receive one...

Anonymous Coward said...

The most idiotic comments on the Warne story were from cyclists. Several wrote in to say they felt the driver was perfectly in rights to attach the cyclist with his vehicle. Perhaps I am missing something.

Aussie, Aussie, Aussie, Ow, Ow, Ow.

Anonymous Coward said...


Hairy-legged roadie said...

I'm really hoping there's a poem in there called "They Made Us Eat Cat Food."

That punchline was well worth the setup.

crosspalms said...


Artisanal Pain said...

I would follow that


of a girl friend to free farm any day of the imaginary pineal glandular week!!!BECAUSE WORK We (presumably) LIKE IS MASTABATORY!

Wax on (generously)!
Wax off (generou-slyly!)

Focus503 said...

Cricket was invented by the English to give the ruling classes something to do (other than buggering the help) while suffering the long dull days in India while the abo's did all the work.

It's second only to Rugby for egregious tosser-y. Ever so civilised my arse.

As far as your Cayenne, I'm sure it drives nice, it's a bleeding Porsche, but a buddy has one of them egg shaped Lexii and it also seems nice inside. But it doesn't change the fact that it's an abomination, just like the other fat mutant Stuttgart has to deliver by c-section the Panamera.

leroy said...

With apologies, I may have inadvertently contributed to the barefoot bike salmon myth.

Years ago, my dog and I were sampling inexpensive domestic wine decanted from paper bags al fresco in a Bowery doorway.

I passed out. When I came to, my shoes were missing and I had to ride home barefoot.

In my fuzzy-headed state, I may have ridden helmentless while following a delivery person with dubious regard for the rules of the road.

The strange thing was that my dog had an unusual amount of spare cash shortly thereafter.


Olle Nilsson said...

Esteemed Commenter DaddoOne 1:16 - Seriously? Now you criticise him? Sure, it's a crappy photo, but it's a freakin' Leibovitz compared to the crappy photos he normally takes. And he's taken a lot of crappy photos.

Plain Artisanal said...

Isnt cat food
Ie. pussy food
Dick Umami?

Isnt you mammy

Isnt double posting
Cialus callus

Anonymous said...

two dollar high lifes at happy hour
stepping in dog shit made me sour

No choice but to take off my shoes
Riding barefoot giveth me the blues

argue with a a bloated sportster
he runneth over my humble commuter

Angry beyond any reasonable measure
Evans' wife's comfort is pleasure

shoveth my frozen corndog
into the anus of enemy of the dog

serveth to mentally ill porlanders
the female soars my cock aplumbers

my suv has my fixie in tow
now off to weed and sow

Anonymous said...

I want some chicken
And perhaps some liver, Meow
Mix(R) please deliver.

bikesgonewild said...

..."...99 & a half, just won't do..." - wilson pickett...

bikesgonewild said...

...shit - i give up...beat by a 'meow mixer'...

...i'm going back to insulting old cricket bowlers who douche on cyclists...

PhilboydStunge said...


You're still the greatest, but let's get this straight: "ball sports" is redundent. Cricket (like pocket pool) is a sport because there is a ball involved. No ball = not a sport. Glad I could help.

screaming skull said...

Thursday = Verse Day?!

McFly said...

Chiara Passerini's Chastitty Belt looks fairly easy to pick. The problem would be when you called their house and he answered you really would not know whom you were talking to.

Anonymous said...

In my mind this video sums up farm life:

Esteemed Commenter DaddoOne said...

no worries g-roc - I've given him shit for every photo he's ever taken

Jasper said...

@ Paul Bowen, 12:53: yup, I remember that delivery, even if no-one else has any idea what you are talking about
The barefoot salmon's helment placing reminds me of that helicopter scene in Apocalypse Now. Maybe he's protecting himself from a Shane Warne googly.

RayG said...

Shane Warne needed the drugs because, like baseballers, he also played while being considerably overweight

Anonymous Coward said...

@PhilboydStunge, umm so cycling's not a sport? or do the ballbearings sneak it past the qualifications?


Perhaps the farmers were too polite to tell their volunteers to fuck off so they offered corn dogs and a shed to sleep in in hopes they would carry their useless asses on?

I am a less educated engine said...

Paul Bowen describes ca cricket play like I would describe sex with a red-head. The english have a lot to say, too bad I can not understand a single word.

Stupid Name said...

'No ball = not a sport"

That explains so much why cycling is viewed as a _________ in America.

Please fill in the blank as best as you can.

JB said...

Anony Coward: most of these ball= sport people will reply that cycling, track, etc. are contests, not sports. Me, I don't care.

Olle Nilsson said...

_________ "woosie" pastime?

JB said...

PhilboydStunge: Snobby's nothing if not redundant. Sometimes he's superfluous too.

Dooth said...

Well, then, pornography must be a sport.

Anonymous Coward said...

@JB - ah, a too much time on one's hands kind of debate.

bikesgonewild said...

...s'trooth, dooth...

Anonymous Coward said...

Jesus: "I hate Buddhists"

Buddhist: "All you haters suck my balls"

Anonymous said...

I love corn dogs but I ONLY eat the organic ones. I'm either way with potato chips. Doesn't everywhere have happy hours and house pets?

RayG said...

Oops, that was a typo. I meant "he also played while being a fat bastard".

crosspalms said...

Anon Coward
Does that make Buddhism a sport?

Anonymous Coward said...

@crosspalms indeed

Dirt McGirt said...

Meanwhile, back in Brooklyn, when I'm not riding my "fixie" and I'm planning "epic" "trail rides" in Prospect Park and daydreaming about "PDX," where the white people are stupid and the black people...

Uh, so who ** are ** the nannies of Portland anyway? Samoans? Inuits?

Dooth said...

I'm in love with you...
(purely platonic (not that there's anything
wrong with that)...).

Anonymous said...

There is no such thing as "inorganic" food and, in particular, it is NOT the opposite of organic food. Actually, food contains a lot of inorganic AND organic components. It's bad enough that the word "organic," which means things that contain carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, and nitrogen, was co-opted by health foodies. Now you're going to ruin another perfectly good word. Sheesh.

Anonymous said...

Pocket pool....putting your hands in your pockets while you move balls around

Anonymous said...

Hey, thanks for the free publicity!
-Barefoot Salmon who you also featured in your blog last year - ie, the barefoot guy running in Prospect Park! Feet er I mean Feel free to say hi next time!

Anonymous said...

The author's organic bio.

Anonymous said...

corn dog aka Pogo!

darryl from down unda said...

awesome read this morning mr snob.

jdlvtrn said...

Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, you have opened my eyes!

Jesus said...

Snob, my child, hate is such a strong word. I only resented Buhhda because the Centurions couldn't get his fat ass on a cross and stand the damned thing up! I forgive you.

Poem Solved said...

Their once was an Aussie cricketer,
Who happens to be a giant prick-eter,
While was driving with angry desire,
He ran over a cyclist tire,
Now he's complaining on twitter-er.

JDH said...

A Portlanderish couple knocked on my door the other day. They said they wanted to work for food so they could feel more alive. I said they could paint my porch. I gave them the painting supplies and an hour later came another knock at my door. The young couple beamed and said "We are done, but that's not a Porch, that's a Mercedes!"

ce said...

I've been trying to ignore Warniegate because it's just depressing. So then I turn up here at my favourite humorously absurd, escapist destination... and guess what Snob has written about. Normally, when the idioting in the spotlight takes place in far away NYC or some imaginary place like Portland, the contention is distant and academic and doesn't inspire the ire. But this incident occurred mere hundreds of koalamaters from my home.

There is really only one thing that can be said in the face of such idioting:

"Budgie Smugglers!"
(the Australian equivalent of "Panties!")

bikesgonewild said...

...okay, jdh...nicely's actually an old line but it's apropos of bsnyc/rtms/wcrm's post & it's definitely a good chuckle...

...again, nicely played...

...& dooth...just keep your hands out a' yer pockets where i can see 'em & we're good, mate...

JDH said...

@BGW- Thanks,I try!

Anonymous said...

That sexually deprived chick totally horked down those corn dogs with out the farmers having to tell her that they are a cylinder of macerated lips and assholes wrapped in a corn fritter.

Spike Lemming

Anonymous said...

When your culture is nothing more than consuming other lesser-known cultures then the Midwest is the last great culture frontier.

Soon, hipsters will fly the stars-'n-bars, stockpile ammunition, drive overcompensating trucks, and, well, they already drink cheap beer. However, the preferred brand will change to Bud-Light or Bud-Ice.

The circle of irony will be complete.

winkybiker said...


I grew up in Australia. Hell on earth for bike riders. Full of "Warnies". Home to more stupid and aggressive motorists than anywhere else I've ridden. I left 8 years ago and will NEVER go back.

Dooth said...

bgw, I must say--even though I may have fractured a rib from laughter--you're a good sport.

Anonymous said...

Hey, I'm wondering if I am that legendary Bike Salmon after all - I've only been biking regularly in Brooklyn for a year as a result of less parking spaces and rising gas prices! And I know you've been searching for quite a few years and as I mentioned before even encountered me running in Prospect Park some time ago in that trademark hat ooooga boooga it's the Barefoot Man! And oh yeah, the love handles. They can be pretty hard to get rid of after a certain age!

Back to the picture, my disappointment is as one commenter pointed out

one: I am not salmoning in that picture (I'm glad to have learned that term from reading this post - now I'll make more of a conscious effort not to salmon!).

two: the shot is not close enough for you to have seen that my pedals are actually flat and plastic to accommodate the bare sole. The metal spiked ones were hurting so I replaced them!

Still I'm quite honored to have my picture up there - yep that green helmet is mine and I'm glad to have learned about Shane the bike killer! I knew there was a reason I've been wearing my green helmet on my butt! I think I'll change my name to the trout or sturgeon. Tuna's been taken.

Hmmm. Barefoot Loch Ness Monster. Now I like that one.

Also love that parody of Werewolf in London and that one about taking off my shoes cuz of dog shit. I once used that as a reason why I went barefoot into some venue in Yupster (hipster turned yuppie) Williamsburg (hope you can credit me with that phrase if you ever use it). Turned out the manager preferred dog shit ridden soles to bare feet. Some bizarre folks out there even more so than barefoot bikers! Anyway, keep blogging away - I am amused! Oh and I do dig the Cayenne but hey, I'm allowed to after all I am in my 40's - really the new 20's but with more intellect. Cheers!

Anonymous said...

Do all barefoot salmoneers look like Jimmy Superfly Snooka?

Anonymous said...


You little fucker! You funny little fuck.

cramitsucko said...


Anonymous said...

What a great mind is here overthrown!

Dave Ward said...

Hi Bill, regarding Shane Warne, he was a great cricketer but like many other people in life is something of a twat. As for bowling in particular, and cricket in general, it's far more strenuous than you could possibly imagine. Warne was a spin bowler, and a very good one, and if you have a look on YouTube I'm sure you'll find clips of him in action.

But the really strenuous stuff is undertaken by fast bowlers. These guys bowl a ball at the batsman at speeds of between 70 and 90 miles per hour. The really fast ones can reach 100 miles per hour and when they let go of the ball they are only 22 yards away from the batsman meaning than said batsman has a mere fraction of a second to decide whether he's going to try to hit the ball or get the hell out of the way.

The problem with trying to get out of the way is something called the bouncer. Once every over (that's the six balls a bowler bowls before someone else has to have an over from the other end) the bowler is allowed to bowl a bouncer at the batsman. The bouncer is a ball pitched short and on some pitches (called wickets) rises sharply enough to take a batsmans head off. Indeed, there have been a number of deaths, and many more serious injuries over the years due to batsmen failing to get out of the way in time.

So although on the face of it cricket seems like a slow paced, easy to master, tranquil walk in the park the reality is very different.

Having said all that, Warne is still a prat!

On the subject of barefooting, I can ride my bike barefoot but cerainly not with metal pedals.

Also, I'm envious of you. I struggle to walk on frosted ground so fair play to you for being able to walk on snow!

CommieCanuck said...

I heard reports of the Barefoot bike riders from Iowa, something to do with anal probing and cow molestation. Sounds more like a NY thing.

don the cyclist said...

marital infidelity pays? how much?
raw crickets are organic.

Anonymous said...

All cricketeer are innocent.
There is know way they made their way with children or Lobbed a few balls.

Anonymous said...

I didn't read all the replies: I can't believe these people survived eating INorganic food. Were they forced to eat quartz crystals and mud pies?

Samuel said...

"After we discover Mark has suffered a recent death in his family, as I have in mine, we talk grief, loss and the protracted process of healing. After Lindsay reports she went to an inner-city public high school, as I did, we talk race, class and the supreme relativity of privilege. After we learn Mark loves photography, as does Jenne, we talk cameras, composition and the criticality of self-expression."

I thought "we talk X, Y and the [adjective] of Z" as a formula was confined to heading up patsy interviews in celeb mags or lazy music journalism. And yet, three times in one paragraph... quality writing right there!

Feel sorry for the subjects who thought they'd just talked about death, school and cameras, but who now look like the metaphorical tube socks of an epic conversational foff fest.

Anonymous said...

I herd them farmers for free WOOFERS are really the new hoi palloi ( I think they called them slaves in the 1850s.)

Everthang is diffrunt now that Mitch Romney has come to town and leveraged all the bike companies into bankruptcy and sent all the bike companies overseas.

See ya slopping the hogs in my leg irons!

Rebecca said...

As an Australian female, let me tell you "Warnie" is a national embarassment.

Thought you'd like to know the cyclist is suing for damages......

Anonymous said...

You know that going barefoot everywhere is the last thing left that is still truly rebellious and actually is is alternative, in a much more real way than just buying some dumb status symbol inanimate object. But for those too young to remember, going barefoot, even in NYC, was quite the fad during the late 1960s and early 1970s. But it has been out of style for so long by now, that it may just be the next big thing....

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