Tony Kornheiser. I’ve pretty much had nothing good to say about the man since I was forced to endue his inane chatter on Monday Night Football. I was stoked when they replaced him with Jon Gruden.

And now I somehow like him even less.

Mr. Kornheiser is advocating vehicular assault, reckless endangerment, and quite possible vehicular homicide.

Kornheiser was discussing the addition of bicycle lanes to some streets in Washington, D.C., when he said on ESPN Radio 980 that he despises bicyclists and supports drivers intentionally running into them.

“And they all, my God, with their water bottles in the back, and their stupid hats, and their shiny shorts, they’re the same kind of disgusting posers that in a snowstorm come out with cross-country skis on your block,” Kornheiser said.

“Run them down.”

Kornheiser twice said, with disgust in his voice, that he thought Washington, D.C. was turning into Beijing. He did, however soften his tone ever so slightly by adding, “So you tap them. I’m not saying kill them.”

. . . Armstrong, the seven-time Tour de France champion, didn’t find anything funny about it.

On Twitter Thursday morning, Armstrong ripped Kornheiser, saying, “Listening to Tony Kornheiser’s comments/rant on ESPN radio re: cyclists. Disgusting, ignorant, foolish. What a complete f-ing idiot.”

Armstrong also urged people to contact Kornheiser’s bosses on both the radio and Pardon the Interruption to register their complaints. “Not happy about Kornheiser’s comments? Let them know @ESPNRadio980, @ptishow, and here,” Armstrong tweeted, providing the link.

Read the rest: backporch.fanhouse.com/2010/03/18/lance-armstrong-rips-tony-kornheiser

Good on ya, Lance. Way to advocate. We all appreciate it.

Tuesday night I get the call from bobejin:  “dude, what the shit! It’s Tuesday night, why haven’t you posted anything yet? I know  you were on a road trip this weekend” then I proceeded to ignore him and sit back on the chair in my driveway with a can of Tecate and watch the pretty girls walk by.

The truth of the matter is, I did in fact just get back from a little road trip and I was just plain worn out. This weekend’s travels took me to southern Arizona, down Mexico way. The plan was to ride a little bit and to explore some potential trials south of the border or “over of the line” as the locals called it.

The Arizona Trail down around Patagonia, AZ is beyond words. It is such rugged and remote terrain it’s hard to imagine somebody running for freedom through such a scene. But that is  the reality of what happens every day down there. I saw more border patrol than any other people. In fact when I tried to cross the border in the town of Sasabe, 4 US agents came out of their stations and pretty much told me I wasn’t going to Mexico that day. The exact quote was “You will not have very much fun, there are a lot of bad guys over there right now”. Having spent 2 days prior camping and cut off from society I wasn’t aware of  the rash of border violence that had occurred. It definitely explained why everybody was a bit on edge, and heeding the agent’s warning, I stayed on my side of  the line. Here is a little sampling of what the trail looks like down there:

Note the snow capped mounatins in the background. 15 miles from mexico. This place blows my mind. I saw two other sets of tracks out there and I am pretty sure who they belong to, and they are friends of this site. Send us a link if/when you do a write up! Because you rode a lot further than I did!

I think I am going to head back down that way this weekend as well, I will let you know how it works out. Keep it dirty.

Who has now defined BAD ASS FEMALE to a degree that few mortals can hope to match?

Katie Spotz, 22, successfully rows solo across Atlantic.

Spotz made good time partly because she didn’t face any storms. As she approached South America she did hit strong currents and 20-foot waves, which struck from the side and swallowed her yellow 19-foot rowboat whole. Spotz found this insufficiently terrifying.
“This boat was designed to take 50-foot waves,” says Spotz. “I never got to see what it could do.”

She puts us all to shame.  Inspiring story.  Cool boat: popularmechanics.com

I’ve said it before (this always predicates me saying “I’ll say it again.”) and I’ll say it again:  he is not a mesh hat.  he was not fodder for rip-off artists at white trash beach superstores.  He was Von fucking Dutch.  Kenny Howard, dammit.

In his own words, “I make a point of staying right at the edge of poverty. I don’t have a pair of pants without a hole in them, and the only pair of boots I have are on my feet. I don’t mess around with unnecessary stuff, so I don’t need much money. I believe it’s meant to be that way. There’s a ‘struggle’ you have to go through, and if you make a lot of money it doesn’t make the ‘struggle’ go away. It just makes it more complicated. If you keep poor, the struggle is simple.“

behold:

Seen here in 1961 aboard a chopper bearing the gains of his astronomical ingenuity, Kenny was clearly a man of his own design.  Spend some time respecting him, mean drunkard as he was.

And dig this guy while you’re at it.  Roger de Pankaoenke (european for “pancake”) could lay down the hammer.  Just lay it in the road and bail, like a roofer at whistle time.  The Pancake eats rare steaks for breakfast, for fuck’s sake.  How do you sit in that back pocket when bitch eats a RARE STEAK FOR BREAKFAST?  and fuck racing in a baby hat.  1970’s windtunnel technology proved that sideburns the size of paint rollers caught bitches by surprise.

Hopefully you’ll also now see  that Brooklyn was a brand of gum LONG before it was a place to move your trend-thirsty trust fundy pile of shit known as “yourself”.

That wraps up a night for this tepid wet washcloth.  Keep it limber.

FINALS – OVER!  Today!  My last out-processing appointment with Sgt. Beer has NOT been canceled or postponed.  ORDERS:  Go directly at Beer:30 to appointment.

I’m posting mainly to tell you about an incredible wine that I’ve discovered – for $8.99 at Mt. Vernon Coop – look for it at YOUR wine merchant.  Buy as many bottles as you can.  It’s amazing.  So perfectly balanced, and complex, with hints of very ripe black cherry and cocoa.  It is one out of a hundred for wines at less than $10 a bottle, I find it under-priced and bought all the bottles on the shelf.  I’m going to talk to the wine stocker and find out what’s stored in back – it’s THAT GOOD.  From spain, 100% Monastrel.  I’m going to soon try M3, which was there in place of all the M1 bottles I and others bought.

pro sports is my game.  i eat the wins.  i kill the poor.  the losers are toilet paper.  the fans scream.  the winner is me.  i win.  vote with my dollar.  we are the ones who play.  others lose the wad.  sympathy = loser.  winner = hamburger.  i win with ketchup.

here comes the weather.  here comes make good choices.  keep yours in your lap.  text while you eat it and drive.  pour condiments on your life.  thank satan you’re a cyclist.  sign jerseys with a rolled up certificate of victory – a dollar bill.

(there was another image here, too.  it wasn’t right.  i’m sorry.  love, snake hawk.)

now dance.

now dance.

no, seriously, dance.

Got home at a good time. Not too early in the afternoon, but not too late either. Played with my daughters. Dinner was a bowl of chili. It was good.

A shot of Pelinkovac, a can of beer. Then helmet, the shoes, and the bike. Bell. Sidis, and Fondriest. The door, the resounding click as I step in to the pedals. And then the wind in my face as I set sail.
I miss this.

A lap around the block, maybe two. Just a bit, my dear. Just a short while together. Before the books. The books can wait. The bastards. They can wait.

And they will, you know. They are always waiting. It’s like rust, it never sleeps. They call it “learning.” Shit. It’s a racket. There is always more one can do. Always one more resource to utilize. Always something I should be reading, something I should be reviewing, something I need to know.

The City smells of orange blossoms tonight. Mark once dated a girl who spoke of the Phoenix Springtime in that manner; oranges, blossoms and renewal.

The whole city smelled of orange blossoms, she said to me once. Mark roared, with this head back and balancing a bottle in his lap, she’s my woman! They were a good couple. For a while, anyway. Then his Art consumed them, as it would, I suppose. What else could it do, sit idly back and let her take him away. No. Art would fight. And Art did. And Art won.

I miss that guy sometimes. No so much his Art, though.

I pedal circles. Or, try to anyways. The legs remember, true, but they forget a little too. I see young couples in the park watching their children play. A girl turning into the drive way of her family’s home on her purple bicycle. Her tires are white. I like them. Her backpack sits up her shoulders, full of books. Dinner is already on the table, and she is late. I see the tanned Latino men arriving home in their trucks. Hard workers, that lot. Any man who says a Mexican is lazy is a lying son of a bitch. Those guys bust their asses. Each and every day. Then they come home to their kids who run across the lawn to greet them like conquering heroes.

I pass young Turks on their skateboards. They smirk at my helmet. It’s OK, you know, I don’t mind. I was once like them. Young, bullet proof, immortal. Now I am old and broken. I’ll keep my helmet, thank you very much. Waking up in the hospital once was enough.

Enough for a lifetime of surprises.

From: frye
Subject: recycle
i finally found a use for the stock bars from my track bike…..tap handle…swweeett if yur east valley and need a drink hit me up for some delicioso tecate.

love the site
later
frye

I like the man's style.

Frye, you just might get some takers. Better find some other old parts to make a tip jar, quick like. And some bar tape.

Speaking of dopers, the International Court for Arbitration for Sport (CAS) has rejected Alejandro Valverde’s challenge to his two-year suspension from racing on Italian soil. Further, should the UCI decide to pursue this matter more openly, Valverde could face a global racing ban for up to two years.

CONI investigators had acquired blood samples seized as part of the ongoing Operación Puerto case in Spain and were able to compare DNA to another sample Valverde submitted to Italian anti-doping officials when the Tour visited Italy in 2008.

An analysis conducted on the blood seized in the Puerto case not only matched Valverde’s later sample, but also contained evidence of EPO use. As a result, the Italian panel imposed a two-year ban on the Spanish rider.

That suspension, however, has not translated into a world-wide ban. By upholding the Italian suspension, it’s assumed that Valverde will likely face a worldwide ban. The UCI already tried in vain to keep Valverde out of the 2007 worlds based on alleged Puerto links, but CAS ruled then to allow Valverde to compete.

It’s about time this matter was resolved, either with a ban or just let him ride. Puerto was what, 2006? Glad to see the wheels of justice are finally rolling along.

In this latest appeal, the three-member CAS panel ruled that CONI had jurisdiction to impose the suspension and concluded that evidence presented in the case was not only admissible but also relevant and could reasonably lead to a two-year suspension.Meanwhile, Valverde didn’t appear willing to accept the decision without a fight. In a statement posted to his website following the CAS ruling, Valverde’s attorneys said they plan to appeal the CAS decision in a Swiss federal court, accusing at least one of the three CAS panelists of being inherently “biased,” since had once worked for the World-Anti-Doping Agency…

Yeah, it’s because one of the panelists was biased! They didn’t bother to look at the pile of DNA analysis and supporting evidence. Maybe it was something in one of his supplements? Maybe it was that shot of Patron?

More over at CyclingNews

Kacper Szczepaniak, the young Polish rider who placed second in the U23 World Championships in Tabor and subsequently tested positive for EPO, tried to kill himself.

Read more here.

Honestly, if these kids are being told to dope by their fucking coaches, this is SHIT. Let them fucking race for GOD’S SAKE. The pressure they have on them to WIN and the $$$ and the greed all get in the way of the fucking sport.

“The one thing that never gets old, is new strange.”
The Legbreaker

shit Im glad Monday is fucking over.

Snake

Just got home, checking email and the like. What’d I get? I got this:

Bernard Hinault taking out the slack.

When I work from home, I watch what’s going on outside. Dope boys come and go from the house across the street. He seems to be the steady supplier for many. I often wonder what drug he sells. His kids come over here to get their bikes fixed. Not once have they ever thanked us. Dominic has even built up junk bikes from the LBS for these kids. Do you think their fucking drug selling parents even give a shit?

I rode 213 miles this week. Enough said.

No trail riding anytime soon. Unless I drive 4 hours to Ray’s, the MTB won’t be used much till May which really sucks. I hate to have a new bike and not be able to ride it the way it’s supposed to be ridden.

Not related at all to cycling but something I found interesting:
They call it Mellow Yellow. I am thinking it is NOT a good sign to have a government controlled strain of marijuana. Scary shit.

Early Runaways. As in, jailbait. One of my favorite songs – WASTED.

it’s weekend as fuck over here.  time to get cracking.

never pick up hitch hikers.  DO pick up beer.  and while you’re at it, pick up some cigs, and since you’ve come this far, you may as well just go ahead and rent some videos.  do it, sissy.

celebrate the re-launch of this site.  i could spend hours up in that joint.  i DO spend hours up in that joint.  i’m playing an open hand here tonight, skidmarks.  all cards on the table.

while you’re at it, should you need to brush up on all the various types of bitches, this is the source.  you gotta fucking go there.  check that shit out, and if you don’t get it, i don’t get you.

peace, weekenderz.  keep it swervy.

Two years ago, I bought a chain
fattest chain I could find at Bimsco Hardware on Stone Avenue.
Tonight I did the same thing I’ve been doing
three nights in a row, and that is
yin within yang: sitting by the woodstove
listening to BBC World News
and chain smoking from my mesquite pipe.

But this time I got something accomplished.
I pulled that chain, smoking, out of the used motor oil
a hellish stink swirling in the cool wind.
I said:
“Harden the fuck up, chain.” and I laughed.

Protect the Landshark [“never get out of the boat”]
Absolutely god-damned right. That’s my BIKE.
but MY bike is going in a box, and then in a trunk.
(There is your wife, and then there is your rose rouge)

That perfect lover, that perfect fit
that fitted with me, and loved me -
I had her for only five weeks.  It was sweet.

But this bike – this perfect fit masterpiece…
I get to keep her forever. And I will.

“Harden the fuck up, mate.” [remember: “The mountain is my woman now and she beats me.”]
“Right.” Turn the cup [Your love is in a box].
Opening it will be softening into joy; into a spring ride. [liberation, strength, the way]
And I’ll say:
“GOD DAMN what a sweet bike.”

Yang within yin: gathering wood.
Yin within yang: sitting by the woodstove.

in keeping with Snake’s theme

It’s all about the Attitude

Its that simple. Life is what you make of it. If you want to bitch and complain about shit then do it. Dont expect anyone to listen to you for very long. Why would they. Its like Big Pun always said. Less talkie and more doie. Its fine to bitch and moan but what are you going to do about? What are you actually going to do about it?

One of the best stories that I have ever heard is this.

A teacher is his/her classroom. The class slowly files in and sits down. The teach calls for everyone’s attention. The teacher has everyone stand back up and stand next to their desks. Then the teacher tells everyone to look under their chairs. To all the students delight there is a dollar bill taped to each and every chair. The Teacher then says take the dollar and sit back down. Then the Teacher says to the class, “what is the moral of the story?” The moral is this if you want to make a buck then your going to have to get off your ass and do something.

Im not saying we should go out and chase the dollar. What I am saying is that if you want change then your going to have to go out and get it. Your going to have to get off your ass and find it. Its fine with me if you want to bitch about how tough you have it. But you had better be heading out the door to make a change while your doing it. Because I will listen for a bit to you, but if your not moving forward with it, then you my friend are part of the problem.

Snake

Thanks Missy.