Mr Trail Safety Speaks!

Fashion Do's And Don'ts I hope you saw the original story on the Huffington Post, where Condi was nominally cheering the Georgians from the safety of a TV studio after their disastrous surprise attack on South Ossetia. Of course, she went dressed as a Russian sailor, continuing the Administration's fatal addiction to costume pageantry. I guess her Star Wars Dominatrix outfit was at the cleaners. Read the original here: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2008/08/17/us-allies-contemplating-a_n_119441.html I found Putin here: http://blog.kievukraine.info/uploaded_images/3027-799072.jpg

I was riding home from work yesterday afternoon. The bike: my neo-vintage '87 Schwinn Technium with the Scott bars, and rear rack. You may have forgotten it. Old Town, Pasadena. Just past the techno-dorks waiting outside the Apple Store for their 3G, and well beyond the IndyMac meltdown debacle. Its 90 degrees; mild, given the time of year. Me, waiting for the light to change, daydreaming. A young woman is crossing in the crosswalk. She's easily 5'10", with the approximate confirmation of a corsetted water-balloon. Wearing flip-flops or sandals, and sucking down the remains of a coffee-whipee milkshake. The wind turns and I catch a whiff of her apple-candy perfume—like she'd been run through the Bratz Sheep-Dip Trough. This fearsome valkyrie is not alone. As she passes me, she turns to her friend, then looks at me and says "Your bike. Sucks. Balls" Damn! She is in love. I turn to her, and say "See ya next time, honey!" and ride off into the ...

John McCain's birth status has been questioned as legal. Turns out he was born in the Canal Zone, eight months before an obscure statute which clarified matters somewhat. Blah-fucking-blah. The wise electors of this country don't give a shit. But, playing along here... if it turns out that he is ineligible to run, his candidacy is in trouble. There will be Darkness in St Paul. The campaign will pow-wow, while other GOP contenders howl for their chance at glory. All is Uncertain until The Ultimate Solution presents itself. Nominate Cindy. In a stroke, the campaign now has a candidate who is telegenic, coherent, and just plain H-O-T. Furthermore, she has a massive private fortune, and can tell the FERC to shove it. The only downside is that John will have a massive coronary. Next stop, Arlington!

Ever wondered what happened to Goofus and Gallant? Goofus and Gallant didn't die. They became Carno and Vego, undergoing the transubstantiation of the flesh, and reincarnated into a new form for this new troubled century we live in. Study the chart. You've probably partied with one of them.

I was summoned for jury duty this past May. I showed up. And here's what transpired: -------------- Greetings, citizen! You'll be amused! amused! that my troll shirt, a pair of wrinkled trou, some beat-up shoes and 3.5 days of whiskers got me off jury duty. As we marched in, we were studied by both attorney teams. There was an abundance of sleek prosperity, poolside tans, expense account lunches. The shoes alone equalled many months rent where I live. The case: a 6 week donnybrook involving Mr & Mrs Mexican Plaintiff suing Toyota and the guy driving their FourRunner on New Year's Eve 2004, after it got hit by a Chevy Lumina. You know, the rolling beer-can. I pleaded Extreme Financial Hardship, [along with 7/8 of the jury panel]. We were recessed. Outside, I was talking to the guy sitting next to me. He'd plead the same. Only he was wearing D&G glasses, had designer jeans, shiny shoes and an oyster chunkette watch. I walked, he didn't. BTW: the costume sugges...

Years of cycling in this strange city and I’ve seen all kinds of weird shit. One of my faves was a chubby Latina backing her Scion mini-brick out of her driveway. She was on her cell, and balancing a plate of tamales with her right hand. Or the eco-betty driving her Prius, and giving me the stink-eye because I just happened to get in her way as she was coming down an offramp. Another moron decided he just had to yell at me. I caught him at the light, leaned into the car, and blew my whistle. Loud. “Man, you scared me!” His eardrums had ruptured, blood was seeping out. His girlfriend had a resigned look on her face. Yeah, you scared me too. Go fuck yourself. Do I hate motorists? Of course I do. All of you dicks are not paying attention, ever. Your inattention is now my problem. Shouldn’t be, but is. So it’s generic. Last Saturday I was at the Silver Lake Farmer’s Market. It’s a sweet little deal. I’d ridden over to do my weekly greens run. Between the annoying guitarist and the flower ...

Hi fans and haters out there! Dakota here! First, I want to apologize to any of my fans who were shocked that I appeared at NASCAR wearing that Farmer John t-shirt. I know I said something about being a vegetarian, I dunno… sometimes all a girl wants is a Dodger Dog, the kind that Plump When They Swell. You're being a hater. But I AM SO *EMBARASSED*, mmm-kay? I don't know what Dad was thinking. It's a mullet thing. Jurassic Love. Second, my Passage to Indio has taken a detour. I was going to look for Sam Sarah. I heard he, like, booked, and shit. Currently, I'm hiding in the fountain at the Americana on Brand here in Glendale. That's in Cali. Now I'm smoking my American Spirits, drinking organic half-n-half, and waiting for the Naturepedic Yoga Centre to open so I can realign my chi. Or chai. What-fucking-ev-er! BRB!!!! CU L8TR!!!

Rush hour distraction, Phoenix AZ, Oct 2005. For some reason it made me think a bit about the country we live in now. Maybe you've seen these numbers, either still or in motion: World War I Woodrow Wilson, DEMOCRAT U.S. deaths-115,000 World War II Franklin Roosevelt, DEMOCRAT U.S. deaths-400,000. Korean War Harry Truman, DEMOCRAT U.S. deaths-36,000 Vietnam War John Kennedy, DEMOCRAT U.S. deaths-58,000. The War in Iraq George Bush, REPUBLICAN U.S. deaths-4,000. This recently surfaced in response to a Joe Conason column in the New York Observer. Of course I answered it. And in honor of the 15 people who'll read this in the next few weeks, here it is, in an expanded exposition. I love it when crap like this bobs up! Lets review the facts, as it is still a "reality-based" world. Let's take down two of these howling wing-nut talking points for starters... World War I : US entry speeded by German torpedos at US shipping, culminating in the sinking of the Lusitania. I...

A Touching Forward Last summer I'd staggered to the top of Mt Wilson from Sierra Madre. I wasn't having an especially good day, but the water fountain was reason enough to continue. When I got there, there was a doe-eyed, hairless punk with half-unzipped leathers slumped on the retaining wall. "Ride to live, live to ride" was tattooed across his chest in big letters. There were at least six bikes dumped in a cluster around him. I was curious. "Where's the rest of your crew?" My curiosity was about to be rewarded. The boy looked up and said morosely "…uh, [Bobby] was trying to get some air, but he landed badly. We had to call a paramedic. We were going to ride down to Chantry, but now we're waiting for a ride.…" Dead silence. The flies were unconcerned. Outwardly, I was solemn. Inwardly, I was flippin! Stoogin' going whoop- whoop- whoop- whoop- whoop!, while spinning on my shoulder on the parking lot asphalt! It doesn'...

Millions of Californians went to the Super Tuesday Primary polls. You just fell asleep reading that. Too bad. You would've been wide awake voting for the I-96 "Whole Foods Casino Initiative". I-96 completely redefines gaming here in California. Ratifies amendment to existing gaming compact between state and Free Range Wholistic Bands of the Wasichu Nation(s); amendment would permit tribe to operate 3,000 additional slot machines in each central location of Santa Monica, Brentwood, Montecito, Hillsborough and Marin—with other locations to be determined. Omits certain projects from scope of California Environmental Quality Act, except the part about second-hand bong smoke; amendment provides for Tribal Environmental Impact Report and intergovernmental procedure to address environmental impact. BYO yoga mat. Specifies where revenue paid by tribe pursuant to amendment deposited; amendment requires tribe to make $20,000,000 annual payment and pay percentage of revenue ge...

  That was then, this is now. I remembered I had an ice axe and hammer. They were at home. I also had crampons. They were in the car. It would've been nice to have them. I was front-pointing a 30' section on a 45-degree slope of hard-crusted, packed snow. In snowshoes. Welcome to my world, late Saturday afternoon, on the chilled north-east face of Mt Lowe. A Priori: The Back Story All this was far in the future when Big Snow finally arrived in the San Gabriels this week. I pulled my straight-outta-1978 Fischer metal-edged cross country skis from their dreamless sleep. What the hell—I pulled the '89 Black Diamond Espressos too. I had hopes on getting them cleaned and waxed, but that was a long shot. And the snowshoes came out too. I wanted to have a full choice for winter fun. CalTrans saw fit to close the Angeles Crest Highway right above the blanco-y-blanco village of La Piñata. Snow? Landslide? Accident? I wasn't about to wait for a re-opening, so I busted a U and ...

French President Nicholas Sarkozy has a hot girlfriend, Carla Bruni. Rumours are swirling that he's gonna marry her. Swirling! I'd say "Yo, Niko! Chill! Test drive on a road-trip before signing the lease, dig? OK, whatever. It's been 60 days. Here are my questions: Is France a community-property state? We do know that under the Napoleonic Code, you are guilty until proved innocent. If they get married, and then divorce, does she get half of France? Which half?

"In A Metal Mood" is one of the most hilarious practical jokes in the History of Röck. Boone managed to startle and outrage two highly conservative constituencies: Evangelicals and Heavy Metal. I doubt that Pat had that in mind at the outset. Consider the readings of "Crazy Train", "Panama" and "You've Got Another Thing Coming". By the technical virtuosity of the participants, and the smoothie-stylings of Mr Pat, the irreducible cheeziness of the originals are revealed. Some of the other tracks like "Stairway to Heaven" sink into primordial ooze and can be deleted from any playlist. Overall, an Essential Perverse Masterpiece.

After McCain's New Hampshire blowout, I had to ask myself about Rudy [cue music, flattering light]… How many times does 404 go into 911?

How many times have you wondered how things change from one state to the other? And how many of those times were you a kind and wondered where all that yummy Spam came from? This is the answer you 've been looking for. I recently rediscovered this obscure revision of the Periodic Table. Pork : elemental sign: PO. Atomic number: 50/50, Relative Atomic Mass: 120.69 Spam: elemental sign: Sp. Atomic number: u81-2, Relative Atomic Mass: 206.666 (note Satanic fractional number) Lead : elemental sign: Pb. Atomic number: 82, Relative Atomic Mass: 207.21 For years it had been conjectured that Spam® was in fact the missing-link isotope of pork. Scientists at D&L Industries Research Lab carefully monitored the projected use-path trajectory, considered its original source, and then followed it to its ultimate atomic conclusion—where it literally turned to Lead. It becomes even more relevant in This Here Holiday Season®™. Especially after the recent LA Times article describing the rel...

Consider the likelihood of the following narrative: A disturbed brother, one of three, who had built a thriving business in the 1920s. The weather business cycles, and become well-to-do. In later years their franchise is set upon by sharp-toothed rivals. They begin to weary of the struggle. But they cannot agree on a direction. There is a dinner at the local IHORG (International House of Rubber Gaskets) to iron things out. However, two of the brothers have made an alliance against the third. They've always been suspicious of his center part. Besides, he's busy doing the other brother's neglected wives. Moe gets the bad news as the house specialty, Gaskets Alfredo, is served. The brothers tell Moe that his future is really with the Hupmobile Auto-Victrola Gramaphone business. His help will not be required in the primary auto business. Really. At a pre-arranged signal from Manny; hairy-armed, burly, no-necked attendants burst into the dining room with nets and lightning sp...

Sunset Junction Street Fair, a Gathering of the Hipsters. A full on heat-fest and scrum within a 10' tall chain-link fence and wildly overpriced water and food for the newly-hungry once the sun went down. There were an astonishing number of really cute/hot women and yes, my little woodchucks, MILFs galore. In the midst of the swarm were also girls who looked like they stepped straight outta 1979. The hair, the curves, the clothes, the look in the eye, and none of them were older than 23. There's a cosmic mystery to ponder. Now we are waiting for Morris Day and the Time. Me and 10,000 of my new best friends. Directly in front of us is a swan-necked, alabaster brunette beauty. She has a completely non-generic profile, ringlets, a sensuous mouth. My brain is squirming like the proverbial toad. And she is with a troll who knows that He Is Going To Get Very Lucky, Soon. I begin to notice that her skin is disfigured with utterly generic tattoos. A skull and crossbones. "Califor...

Havana, 2018   Today is the 40th anniversary of the death of Che Guevara. Fidel Castro has always preferred dead heroes to living rivals, and Che was no exception. To frame it in American terms, imagine the following: Bill Clinton and Al Gore are comrades in arms, or W and Dick Cheney. You decide. In any event... Bill and Al have a colossal falling out over the direction of world revolution. Al leaves the country with other members of his staff and cabinet. He goes to a desperately poor English-speaking country to foment revolution as an outsider—against ALL the rules that had defined a guerilla struggle. Let's say that country is Belize. the local inhabitants view the Army as a menace, and the presence of the outsider to be an additional threat. When the Army comes and asks "where are the foreigners?" and the villagers point. Now two threats are removed. Al is at the end of his rope after 11 months, and has lost 100lbs. He can barely stand for his captors, and within 12 ...

While at work in Hollywood on Tuesday afternoon, a Ford Exploder hit a fire hydrant on Highland Ave, and gave the entire neighborhood a free diversion. Incidentally, neither Christ nor the Virgin Mary were spotted in the water column.

Barbarella is simultaneously a quaint artifact and and the edgy progenitor of the modern graphic novel. The iconography successfully incorporates elements of Jules Verne and the Nouvelle Vague in a retro science-fiction dreamscape. Many of the elements in the novel have been worked over ad infinitum—the leggy heroine who is a determined hedonista; but other classic ingredients of French erotic fiction are well used—court intrigue, betrayal, awkward situations, and the boundless capacity of humans to plunge blindly in pursuit of pleasure. I hadn't read "Barbarella" in over 35 years. It was interesting to see what I'd remembered, and find out what I didn't see back in my weedy youth. Good times all around!