Mr Trail Safety Speaks!

1. The money I didn't make in my earlier years was inversely proportional to the cool things I was doing 2. I shoot film in mid-century semi-vintage cameras. By the time I die I'll be shooting with an 8x10 view camera using very slow film. 3. I'm really glad I quit smoking. Everything. In 1981. 4. I've been riding bikes since I was 7 yrs old. The thrill never fades. 5. Garlic and cayenne are Nature's way of saying you're special 6. I hate looking for work 7. I don't believe in God, or any of the prophets. My religious notions reside between Haitian Voudou and Tibetan Buddhism 8. I have better friends now than I ever did before. 9. Other people do marriage way better than me. 10. I've got at least 5 good photo books in me. Getting them out is going to be the fun part. 11. Tango gave me a new viewpoint. 12. I need to travel more. 13. Espresso 14. 86% of the drivers in Los Angeles should be on bicycles—everyone would benefit. 15. My math grades in elementa...

I just pulled out of the CNN Inaugural vortex. Everything today has found me happier, more emotionally touched, proud, welling up, excited and moved in ways I never imagined for an inaugural. The events were bigger than the supporting players, voluntary or mandatory. Rick Warren's touted presence and invocation bleated away in the thin winter air, while Dr Lowry's came, sat, and made themselves at home. W looked shrivelled and puny, which he already was, but was now without the props to sustain him. Obama stood tall, and spoke as an adult to a nation that had been spoonfed drivel and jabber these last eight years. And who can deny the delicious symbolism of Dick Cheney in a wheelchair; a final symbol of the cripple he's been, and inflicted on the nation. Obama's inaugural speech was clean, tight, and gas-free. Thank Gawd—'bout time too. A nice backhand rebuke to the pasty-faced torture mendicants sitting in the departing seats was all good. The GOP leadership sat st...

I was recently asked to source a quote. The screenplay mentioned is probably representative of the post-Tito Serbian Modernist genre, and modestly, I quote: His face was side-lit from the blazing sun off the street. We were sitting inside, deep under the portico. Even the flies were somnolent in the afternoon heat. The barman indolently cleared a forgotten beer-glass from the counter, while idly watching the sun-beaten English girls across the square. “So I’m turning 29. This Sunday. Oh well.” He looked up over his glasses. The blend of irony and deadpan fatalism hung in the air like blue Gauloise fog. -- “Zastava Smackdown” by Giovanni Nessuno, p 183. Rome, 1991.

Actually, this is the gift you've been waiting to give that special someone. The Gift of Mr Trail Safety Bullshit. Think about it. What do you give that Special Somebody Who's Got Everything? Where do you go when you have Perplexing Questions? That's right. Mr TSBS is specially formulated so you can enjoy it as a hit-n-quit snack, or full-blown Roman Banquet. Here, have some wafers, Mr Creosote:  ================== DUBIOUS ADVICE 12 Advice Nuggets for Newbies & Others   Recently there have been a spate of anguished "drops" from the UltraList regarding content, tone, and suitability of the message, if not the messenger. Inasmuch as the majority of these messages appear to be from relative newcomers to the sport, or the List, some clarifications are necessary. MOUNTAIN BIKERS ARE PUSSIES 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. W...

Since I believe strongly in faith-based solutions, I wrote the GOP with my ideas for their Reconstruction. So to speak. They should resurrect Francisco Franco and Alfredo Stroessner. This would give anxious, fearful white voters not one, but two authoritarian figures they could venerate. And fear, if need be. As long as we're at it, lets gin up the Drum Circle to bring back Augusto Pinochet and Dr Salazar as well.

Image: Artist as yet unknown. Scan of original 11x17" graphic, swiped from a telephone pole in the Glassell Park/Eagle Rock area, Los Angeles, CA. Nov 4, '08 Yes, it happened. I didn't expect Johnny Mac to concede as early as he did. We'd just finished dinner and were about to head out when Karen said "lets check, I don't want to hear this in a cab". So we did, and saw the live video stream. This is all too perfect! I never expected to see this in my lifetime—esp after the last 8 yrs of hardboiled willful ignorance, thievery, criminality and pasty-faced incompetence. Obama's speech was simply perfect. All the right points, and didn't waste people's time saying it. Oh, the work that lies ahead. In the meantime, I'm savoring the joy of seeing the hosers and posers of the Johnny Mac Road show [Sarah the Impaler, Joe the Plumber, Willie the Pimp, and all the Angry White Faces] choke on a fucking chicken bone. Game over, bitches!

...back in 1980, I was subscribed to the National Review by my elderly grandmother. So I used to come home after working nights, crack open a Heineken, roll a joint, and read it. Surreal. One day an NR survey arrived in the mail. Actually, two. The killer question the GOP had that year was "Who would be the best candidate to defeat Jimmy Carter?" I took a long hit on the joint, and wrote in my answers. Jane Fonda, and Alfredo Stroessner. I'm sure somebody was amused.

The sudden rise of Sarah Palin prompted me to think about Andrei Codresceu's "Blood Countess" . Imagine what might happen if Johnny Mac dies on the campaign trail. Do you think Palin is going to let Cindy and Karl stop her? I don't think so. The tiger is well and truly out of the cage now. My money is that once she gets her sea-legs, she'll chew her way through these flabby white men like a chainsaw. More disturbing about Palin is her glittering capacity for cruelty. I have no beef on hunters who eat what they kill, but shooting wolves out of a helicopter is cold-blooded serial murder. If she's so much the shit, and the Freepers are jacking off in a frenzy over her, how come she doesn't run on foot and give chase with a spear? Furthermore, if she's all about less government, what's with the Books She Didn't Like as mayor of Wasilla? The first thing these self-styled Big Faith /Small Government types like to do is get inside your head and tell y...

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?