I represent the hardcore, rough, rugged-n-raw…

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…big jonny, son. The keyboard’s my only friend.

Diggin’ in the crates today. Came up with PMD’s Business is Business from back in ’97. Classic. (Torrent here).

One of my greatest fears is what the “perfect storm” of a black man as president and a steep economic recession will bring forth. Oh yes, the Right Wing Violence cometh. Heard the latest one, from right here in Arizona?

According to local law enforcement, three people posing as police officers forced their way into the home of Raul Flores in Arivaca, Arizona, about 10 miles from the Mexican border, on May 30. They shot and killed Flores and his nine-year-old daughter, and wounded Flores’ wife. The three, Shawna Forde, Jason Bush, and Albert Gaxiola, were arrested and charged last Thursday and Friday.

Source: tpmmuckraker.talkingpointsmemo.com.

Shawna Forde is the “leader” of the Minutemen American Defense. Awesome. More on that story, including a short nightly news vid from a Seattle, Washington station, here: kirotv.com.

How much worse is this going to get? I think it’s going to get a whole lot worse. A lot worse.

The tape of the 911 call was released. A few excerpts typed up at fox11az.com. And be warned, it is some heavy stuff. The actual 911 call is up at crooksandliars.com, but I have not listened to it beyond the first second of the recording. And I most likely will not, ever, listen to the rest it. Who shoots a nine year old girl in the head? An animal, that’s who. A fucking animal.

No women. No children. Ever.

This is a fun email, so let’s do that. White-power jokers with guns get me down. Makes me want to go out to the garage and clean my 9mm instead of doing positive thing like truing up wheels, adjusting a derailleur, fixing flat tires and re-taping handlebars. (Which is what I actually did with the balance of my afternoon, in case you are wondering.)

From: Response
The other day, I was half watching one of the numerous Chinese public service announcements on Teevee. They were showing people throwing trash in the gutters and plugging the storm drains stupid. Then they cut to scenes of heavy rain flooding the streets and people wading through waist deep water. Of course, I never thought that shit could happen to me. However, I was chilling at the coffee shop waiting for a friend to pick me up.

It began to rain like something broke in the heavens. I get a call from my friend who says the road is flooded and his car can’t make it. WTF?!?! That’s only 2.5 km of city driving from here. No big, I’ll ride my bike. I am wearing swim trunks and a polyester shirt (they dry fast), my wallet and phone are in a plastic baggy and of course my keen “angry lesbian sandals” are on my feet. Much to my surprise, the 6 lane boulevard behind the coffee shop has turned into a river that can only be slowly driven on its very center crest. I see a 3 wheel taxi bike parked near the curb, seat deep in flowing water with its driver sitting patiently on the handle bars. I scope out the scene and it appears that there’s no getting around this. I pick a course that looks safe enough. I manage to find a path that is only slightly above bottom bracket deep (yes I hate having grease in my bearings!). Good looking out.

While pedaling, I am considering jockeying for the center crest of the road, however, the giant buses with their sociopath drivers are playing king of the crest and they are leaving 5 foot tall wakes for the losers to suck up. Meanwhile I think I am on a sidewalk. My tires are fishing for stuff likes, holes, curbs, a brick (I think), and a healthy long piece of tangled bailing wire that mercifully passes through my front wheel and fender without cutting me or getting tangled in my shit. The final test, a floating armada of beat up 3 inch diameter bamboo poles! Meanwhile, I am trying to keep my mouth closed to avoid drinking this shit (again). I see children playing in the grubby water, but that doesn’t mean anything, those kids are a thousand times tougher than this white boy.

I finally navigate to higher ground only pedals deep now. Traffic is snarled and the sidewalks are packed. I am one of the few things still moving. I hang a right and left to find even higher ground. Traffic opens up. I am forced to play in traffic or walk. I feel the oddest sensation, yes, I have been hit by a car from behind. Some asshole in a black car is pushing my back wheel. There is not enough traction to fold the wheel under, it just pushes me along. Well, I fade right as Mario Andretti tries to mash me into the car stopped ahead of him. I open his passenger door and offer to pull him out of the car and defend myself. He looks at me, 10 kinds of scared. He is saying something to the effect that he is sorry, but I cannot figure out if he’s saying he sorry he hit me, sorry he didn’t kill me or sorry he didn’t lock his car door. Probably all three. I smile and tell him “cào n? z?z?ng shíb? dài = fuck your ancestors to the eighteenth generation”. He returns the smile, simply because he understood my shitty mandarin. That’s me, making friends wherever I go.

I am in the home stretch now. I pull onto a dry-ish sidewalk and realize that my front tire is going flat (probably the bailing wire). Another 100 yards and I am at a bike shop, none too soon. This shop is pretty modern and clean. I yell for service, nothing. I look in back I see a fat woman who is watching Teevee. I yell again. She makes a waving motion like she is fanning away a stinky fart. I see she is watching a soap opera. FUCK! I look around, there are tools and air handy, but no patches or tubes to be seen. I ask for her help again. She ignores me. FUCK!

Well, it’s only another half KM to my destination. I am all rims on the sidewalls now. The rain is pouring and I am riding on the rocky shoulder next to the river. Life is good. I make it to a low end bike/scooter shack. A family of 5 (going on 6 as mom is baking one) lives in this “lean to” garage. The patriarch comes to me in the rain. He effortlessly/expertly patches my tube with the wheel still on the bike in less than 10 minutes and charges me a mere 2 Yuan about 30 cents US. I am grateful as hell and thank him profusely. I make it to my destination, my friend is not there. His car is stalled in a puddle en route to my place. Nothing to do but smile and head back….

That man lives the life we wish we could. Sorta like my man Randy. Who is, assumedly, out in the woods somewhere at the moment. Which I think is an excellent idea. I hope to do a bit of that myself soon. I need to get the fuck outta Dodge.

My kind of people.

(314): dude did u upper deck my toilet?
(1-314): haha like two months ago
(314): i cleaned the bathroom like ten times before i realized what the smell was…..i hate u

More at textsfromlastnight.com

Link dump:
When lifetime ain’t the right time: velonews.com
Yeah, it was only Letterman: abcnews.go.com
If the shoe fits: huffingtonpost.com
Wednesday round up: dailykos.com
When twitter is a force of good: andrewsullivan.theatlantic.com
Objective? Subjective? Let’s call the whole thing off: blogs.tnr.com
Two steps behind: mattsteinglass.wordpress.com
Get on mah plate! flickr.com

Video: Franz Ferdinand – Ulysses

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