Just when you think you can't possibly bury yourself any deeper, you do. Oh my, that Mount Lemon is a dandy. I made it to the 10 mile marker.

Before you write me off as a completely lazy bastard, know that I broke a spoke at before the 8 mile marker and rode the rest rather tentatively. One broken spoke I can true up enough to get home, but any more than that and I could be in trouble. And, as some of you know, you can get the rim pretty straight by fiddling around with a spoke wrench and loosen the brakes to get that fucker on home, but she ain't gonna be perfect. Ten miles of pretty fast downhill with a wide open rear brake and a wobbly wheel does not confidence build.

Add that to the bandages I'm still wearing in three places from a wreck last week and you've got yourself a recipe for slow going.

Anything over 35 felt a wee bit on the scary as shit side of things. So I tried not to do that to much.

Good times.

From: Ass Subject: Drinkin' girl Is it a coincidence that your initials are BJ? Anyway, I am right there with you. Been riding/training and think I feel great then get shelled. Good thing there is beer at the tues night crit. It's nascar of bike racing I tell yeah. Here is a drunk chick.free.podgy.com/6/ Hope your surrogate wife heals up soon. Later- The Ass

No, its no coincidence at all my initials are BJ. I happen to enjoy a good blow job now and again. It's just my thing, I guess.

I'm glad to see I'm not the only guy around here getting his ass handed to him. Oh, it's a blast. Thanks for the link. I love drunk chicks.

From: Kiwipress Subject: (no subject) got hit by a drunk driver on sunday while riding my once new IF Ti road bike. Nothing broken except the bike. Man, I hurt everywhere. The guy blew a .27. A little cocked. dickweed!

Holy shit dude. I'm glad to hear you're alive after that one. I can't believe the guy blew a .27. Can I assume he's going to be spending some quality time in the pokey. Going on a little vacation. Up the river. That sort of thing.

Here's to your quick recovery, big jonny hoists Ten High Coca Cola cocktail in a coffee cup and drinks. Smooth.

Wednesday, February 27, 2002

tera patrick   I   aria giovanni   I   chrissy m

I succeeded in one thing today. And that was to ride myself straight into the fucking ground. I can rest easy now, knowing full well that I did exactly what I had intended at the onset.

You think you know racing? You don't know shit. Click here to find out just what in the hell I'm talking about.

Tomorrow I'm going to get dropped on Mount Lemon by the Gnome and that freak Justin. God damn guys are gonna kill me. I'm bringing a lunch this time because my time in the mountains will be long. I might even bring a pillow in case the urge to lay down a cry overcomes me. Again.

I love having big scrapes all over the side of my body. It's really boss. Showers are an exercise in self hatred. I scrub, I scream, I scrub some more. I'm quite convinced my elderly neighbors think I killed someone in here this afternoon. The cops ought to be here any minute.

And when they show, I'll pull the 'ol Nagel on them. I'll answer the door naked and bleeding. Then I'll back out slowly with my wrists together behind my back challenging the cops, "Go ahead, put 'em on me. Do it. C'mere."

It worked once. Why not twice.

Tuesday, February 26, 2002

nikki   I   nadia   I   shelby

Another day in the books at the White Stallion Ranch. I slept till I was no longer tired. I drank coffee till I had my fill. I rode around by Gates Pass without ever actually suffering the embarassement of trying to climb it. Four hours later I went home to a cold ultra fuel and a hot shower.

Then I had a mountain dew just because I can. That, and Justin left ten of them here last week. I don't even know what to do with all these things. Throw them at the neighbors trailer? Clean the counter top with it? I can't be expected to drink all this, it's way to extreme for little old me.

And let me tell you, showering with pavement burns all over the right side of your body is one dark trip, brother. I was practicing my deep breathing exercises as a scrubbed away the gunk. Oh, it's a fucking gas.

From: Marty Subject: chicks on bikes This link should get your motor runnin' equis.ya.com/coletassoft/bikes/index.html Cheers, Marty

Yeah, that got my motor running and then some. I think a certain Laura in Holland might just like that link. At least I hope she does. I live to please her. Hoo Ahh.

My man Heff sent in this link. It's funnier than all hell. If you like to make fun of riced out imports and trucks sporting every bolt on accessory known to mankind, you're gonna love beaterz.com. I know I did.

In the thread better late than never, here is a Valley of the Sun race report from my the glorious garden gnome.

From: Gnome Subject: VOS Valley of the SUn- Great ride, Great race- So I sat in. Well, actually, after a superb 90th placing in the TT I sat in (and yes I was really trying). I got 5 good intervals in at the RR on Sat, got caught by the cat 2 field, stopped by the officials, split-up and restarted, then I somehow manged not to get caught and DQ'd for violating the yellow line rule during the rest of the ride. Er...Uh, I mean, I never went accross the line so I didn't get DQ'd like the other 30 or so 1's. I did heard a whole lot of BS coming from the mouth of a hair-farmer in blue and thought, what the fuck? I mean seriously, does anyone care about what you have to say? Does anyone even care that were out here in spandex? Then the crit- yea, the highlight of my weekend. I got 5th. Oh, and not a mention of me in Velo Snews or anything. Dave McCook told me to "get the fuck outta here" when he and I were splitting a wheel with 4 or 5 laps to go. Funny though, he was the one that left. I guess I left an impression. So That's it, I'm unemployed and I don't pick up a pay check for riding so I luckily got 50 bucks in primes for food this week. Ah...the life of an almost- See you back at the RV next week Jonny, Love el Gnome-O

We're talking big time water under the bridge at this point, I mean like old news city. But at least he wrote something. All I can do is say thank you form the bottom of my heart to the great golden garden gnome. Man, I love that guy.

From: Jason Subject: Superstars Here are the results of our short lived modeling career for Dodge trucks. I was cut from the first photo because of an incident with the director but I still got paid. Marcia's tattoo paid off and made the center of the picture frame. In the second photo, I am the one at the top right with the raft in my arms. I am blurred---same incident with the director--- but I am there. Unfortunate for the other models that I had to be blurred and unfortunate for Jake and John trying to double dip with E-caps hats and Zeal t-shirts. If you want signed copies, please reply with your name, address, and how you want the photo signed. I use only quality paper and graphics and will number the photo since quantities are limited. The signed prints are free but include a check or money order for $26.75 for shipping and handling.

Don't forget us little people when you get all rich and famous. Or at least kick us down some dollars when it's donut thirty, you know, half past donut hour. 'Cause I love a glazed donut from time to time.

And so does my big fat ass.

Remember those bullshit ads the ran during the Superbowl about how smoking a joint was somehow tied into killing innocent people? Like, I went out last weekend and helped kill a judge in Mexico. Basically if you do drugs, you support terrorists. Remember that shit?

I do, and so does the Libertarian party. They want to run this ad in USA Today and the Washington Times. Doing it just to piss people off is a good enough reason for me, but they've got bigger plans.

Click here to find out more.

Monday, February 25, 2002

brianna banks   I   jill kelly   I   sky lopez

I love being hurt. It's just great. At least the swelling in my friggin hand has gone down. I thought I had broken my girlfriend for a few delicate moments there.

But, as they say, all is well in spankerville. God Bless America.

I've decided to be a total schlep and not ride today. I figure, fuck it, I need a break. And what better time to take a break that when you're oozing out of four different contact points from you shoulder down to your calf?

So instead of riding I've committed myself to updating the website in a big way this week. I've got some brand new shit for ya'll. A new gallery of fucked up pics and more hotties on bicycles.

All in a days work around here.

Aside from resizing sixty odd images and writing enough code to numb my brain for a week, the most challenging thing I've managed to pull off today was fixing myself a bowl of cereal. I must have had four by now, with no sign of stopping in the near future. I may graduate to canned tuna later this evening, and I may not. I might just take a nap.

I feel I've earned it.

How would you like a few jokes? They keep showing up in my mailbox, I might as well get some mileage outta them.

From: Paul Subject: Fwd: How to phone the police... I was going to bed the other night when my wife told me that I had left the light on in the shed, she could see from the bedroom window. As I looked for myself, I saw that there were people in the shed taking things. I phoned the police, but they told me that no one was in my area to help at this time, but they would send someone over as soon as they would be available. I said OK, hung up, and waited one minute, then phoned the police back. "Hello, I just called you a minute ago because there were people in my shed. Well, you don't have to worry about them now cause I've shot them all." And within minutes there were a half a dozen police cars in the area, an Armed Response unit, the works. Of course, they caught the burglars red-handed. One of the officers said: "I thought you said that you'd shot them!" I replied with "I thought you said there was nobody available!"

I've pretty much derailed this weeks plans to ride 20 something hours. So far today I've barley make it out of the fucking motothome. I'll have to drive over to the internet café tonight so I can upload all this shiznit. Maybe that will encourage me to do something tomorrow. Then again, maybe not.

Sunday, February 24, 2002

brianna banks   I   chloe jones   I   nakita kash

There was to be no race for the fat man this Sunday. I figure I can ride for two hours like a turtle. A big fat turtle. With bandages. I can't friggin race. My right hand is so bitched up I can't really grab the bars, I can just sit my hand on tip of it. I took a lot of shit from Randy on that one, but fuck it, I'm staggering around with a limp and shit. Fuck me running.

I was hopping to get railed out of my mind on a fist full of blue, yellow and purple pills, but I only managed to scrounge up a couple of Roxicets. They work just fine. I took a half of one when I got to the Cricket Pavilion for day two of the traffic cone follies.

I rode around in big, lazy circles for two hours. Just like a turtle. I accomplished my goal for the day. Big Gay Randy jus didn't have it today, so he did not accomplish his goal. The cute little Garden Gnome bagged a third place behind a really strong Nathan Mitchell. First place was a guy named Chris. I forgot his last name, but I can tell you that he can go like all hell when he wants to. You should see his eyes light up for a twenty dollar priem. The man is built like a brick shipyard.

Learn the name Nathan Mitchell. You will hear it again. You have been warned.

After a little ridey ride it was time for some food and the drive back down south to Tucson. I'm all bandaged up like a homo mummy, seeping questionable fluids through the bandages on my ass. Oh, it's a moment of pride to seep gunk right through ones pants on onto the sofa. Ugh. Fucking gnary shit.

We took a pit stop on the way back. I threw down about four shots of Vodka over at Nic's to wash down some Naproxen. Don't worry, that last one is available over the counter. Then I had Chinese food and Randy did all the driven. It worked just fine.

Saturday, February 23, 2002

susana   I   chloe   I   sydney

The only news for today is that I crashed out with 2 laps to go in a crit. And, yes, it hurts.

It was getting all jiggy and single file as we wound it up for the field sprint. Victory wasn't an option as there were two guys up the road already with at least 25 seconds on us. It was between those two now. One was our young gun Chad, and the other I don' know but he was from White Mountain. As you can imagine I wasn't doing much of anything but following the wheels.

As we entered the chicane, a quick left-right combination, all of us were freewheeling in single file. Well, almost all of us. I've got to be 6th or 8th in line, way out of it really. There is only three more corners to the finishing straight. All of the sudden, some bozo comes up the inside and yells, "On your left!"

I give him some room. I have to. If I don't he's going to run into me. So we make it through the left hander and approach the right. Now it gets ugly. He's got his shoulder up just past my bars now, and my drops are banging against his thigh. He's coming over the top on me in corner, it sucks, and I've got nowhere to go. The inside of the corner is a big cement cylinder holding up a light pole, so I can't go there. The outside line is now a guy leaning on me, hard.

We make it through the corner bumping each other and the whole time I'm just trying to thread the needle. I've got this guy smothering my left and I'm just trying to get my shoulder by the light pole, oh please, oh please, oh please.

Just as I think to my self, fuck, I'm going to live, I'm on my side and sliding. I can't believe how far I'm sliding. Am I ever going to stop sliding?

The fancy wheels I borrowed just before the race sure were a good looking set of wheels. I shoulda known better. The tubular rolled off the back rim.

I might have gone down no matter what I was riding. Maybe I was just doomed from the start. And, I can't really blame the guy who glued them up. Most of the base tape stayed on the rim, just the rest of the tire separated from the base tape. That's what you get for borrowing wheels five minutes before you start I guess.

Jesus Fucking Christ that sucked.

Friday, February 22, 2002

marisa   I   aria   I   devon

I like zdenka. Yes sir I do.

Check this shit out:

"A 31 year old Chicago man has been sentenced to 45 years in prison for killing 26 year old bicycle messenger Thomas McBride in 1999. Late last year, Carnell Fitzpatrick was found guilty of first degree murder after a jury deliberated for 16 hours over the case. He was considered for reckless homicide, a lighter charge than first degree murder, however the court eventually rejected the former after the killing was deemed to be deliberate…"

Send that bitch up the river, where he belongs. You can read more about it at cyclingnews.com.

I've got some incredible people reading my site. They have lives filled with excitement and glamour. I have a bike and live in a trailer. Here are some recent emails detailing the sorted lives of these proud American patriots. I think you'll agree there guys live like fucking rock stars.

From: Response Subject: Come on vacation leave on probation I am already home. I rented a 2002 Lincoln town car (the natural choice for high performance off road demolition mobile) and headed out to Tucson from LA on Friday. I was heavily laden with cash drugs, guns and ammunition. I met up with pistol Pete in the middle of windy nowhere. Hit hot springs someplace near New MEX. Watched naked hippy chicks run around, picked up on Mormon bitches at the local $6 buffet. Got some awesome four wheel drifts on the dirt trails in the Lincoln which we happily coined "the mini-mog". And blasted the shit out of a lot of conspicuous looking beer cans and misc junk in the deep Arizona countryside. Had a run in yesterday with Tucson's finest. Suspended drivers license, open containers, loaded weapons, trunk full of drugs and REAL FIREPOWER. They explained to us that the neighbors were concerned about the strange luxury mobile sitting in front of their house. They informed us that we needed to "Do something about our beers", emptied the ammo out of my 357 and handed both gun and ammo to me and left us to our business without so much as a slap on hand. GOD I LOVE TUCSON. Today, I was headed home, stopped to get gas in EL Centro. I had some Mexican bitch fucking t-bone the mini MOG. I was prepared to fucking bail but the goddamn MOG wouldn't start (in my drugged and panicked state, I didn't realize that it had stalled in drive and she wouldn't fire unless in park), Then the bitch promptly called the man. He let me off the hook, he could have arrested me on the spot (suspended license), but seeing as how it was her fault he was nice enough to give me a driving on suspended ticket (close to a grand). Now get to drive 3 hours up and back, with no license to that god forsaken piece of shit of a town. Karma is a bitch!!! Makes me want to never return to this overpriced conservative smarmy assed piece of shit state of Commiefornia again. It is simply not the place for outlaws. Response

And since I'm totally blown out from riding me ass off all week, I'm just gonna keep cutting and pasting my way right through this update. Just because I can.

This one I had to edit down a bit, only to showcase the utter brilliance of this man's writing. We had been firing stuff back and forth about how stupid it was to put a disc brake on the front end of a bike just to hit a price point. Gonna run disc's, run a pair. Anyway, read this:

From: Heff Subject: RE: funny looking little metal…deelies…with holes and shit. I'm sure of it. …you know what happened to me the night I fucking sent you that? I'm cycling back over the fucking Thames and my chain shears. not just fucking snaps, the thing splits in 6 fucking links and wraps itself around the back rim and sends me careening into oncoming traffic. Fucking peach. New front rim [which sticks out like a shiny new "steal me" sticker] repaired damn chain, now the fucker is a bit too tight and doesn't jump the way I like it to and I cant just kick back anymore and not worry like the fucker is gonna break. scraped my goddamn back and shoulder all the way to hell and back. showers fucking hurt. that's like taking out the two things that make my day bearable, and enjoyable; fucking ride and how showers, and pissing all over them. I wanna kill. and In case you haven't already everything at thumbzilla.com rocks. One Pissed Off Heff.

How's that shit grab ya. Kinda makes you wanna get out and ride doesn't it? Or at least drink beer and break something.

I've got one more for ya, then it's time to start packing up for the weekends races. I'll be doing two crits up in Phoenix. Ugh. I'm going to fucking die.

The best part is it's entirely self inflicted. I'm paying good money to drive out in the west valley and ride around in a parking lot as fast as I can. Maybe if I'm really lucky, I'll crack, get dropped and wipe out into a traffic cone. One can only hope.

From: Cuth Subject: Evil Upheaval Bitter after being snubbed for membership in the "Axis of Evil," Libya, China and Syria today announced they had formed the Axis of Just as Evil, which they said would be "way eviler" than the Iran-Iraq-North Korea axis President Bush warned of in his State of the Union address. Axis of Evil members immediately dismissed the new axis as having, for starters, a really dumb name. "Right. They are Just as Evil . . . in their dreams!" declared North Korean President Kim Jong Il. "Everybody knows we're the best evils . . . I mean the best at being evil . . . . We're the best." Diplomats from Syria denied they were jealous over being excluded, although they conceded they did ask if they could join the Axis of Evil. "They told us it was full," said Syrian President Bashar Assad. "An Axis can't have more than three countries," explained Iraqi President Saddam Hussein. "This is not my rule, it's tradition. In World War II you had Germany, Italy and Japan in the evil Axis. So you can only have three. And a secret handshake. Ours is wicked cool." International reaction to Bush's Axis of Evil declaration was swift, as within minutes, France surrendered. Elsewhere, peer-conscious nations rushed to gain triumvirate status in what has become a game of geopolitical chairs. Cuba, Sudan and Serbia said they had formed the Axis of Somewhat Evil, forcing Somalia to join with Uganda and Myanmar in the Axis of Occasionally Evil, while Bulgaria, Indonesia and Russia established the Axis of Not So Much Evil, Really, As Just Generally Disagreeable. With the criteria suddenly expanded and all the desirable clubs filling up, Sierra Leone, El Salvador and Rwanda applied to be called the Axis of Countries That Aren't Necessarily the Worst But Won't Be Asked to Host the Olympics Anytime Soon; Suriname, Guyana and French Guiana formed the Axis of Countries That Hate That People Always Assume They're in Africa Because They're Not; while Canada, Mexico and Australia established the Axis of Nations That Are Actually Quite Nice But Secretly Have Nasty Thoughts About America. "We have a waiting list as long as my arm," said Canadian Prime Minister Jean Chretien. While wondering if the other nations of the world weren't perhaps making fun of him, a cautious Bush granted approval for most axes, although he rejected the establishment of the Axis of Countries Whose Names End in "Guay," accusing one of its members of filing a false application. Officials from Paraguay, Uruguay and Chadguay denied the charges. Israeli officials, meanwhile, insisted they didn't want to join any axis, but privately, some world leaders said that's only because they haven't been asked.

OK, that's it. I'm done. Ya'll have a nice weekend. Ride fast, swerve lots.

Thursday, February 21, 2002

jessie   I   monica   I   lesbians

I found one picture of Dru dressed up like a girl at the 24 hour race. You can see it too, by just clicking here.

I watched Jim Shea fucking blaze a skeleton run last night. It was incredible. Go Jimmy. I didn't stay coherent long enough to find out if he medalled or not, but homeboy looked good as gold to me.

I had never even heard of the guy until I got an email a few weeks back. I posted it back on the February 9th if you want to read it. They guys a friggin riot. He likes to get pumped up before his event by having his coaches yell at him. He likes to be angry. He was all yellin and shit. Fuck great stuff. Go Jimmy.

From: Cuth Subject: RE: Beat first and ask questions later Jonny- Whoa brother, I can't believe you remember the tales of the red sled! That was like the mid-eighties! Yeah, that baby was my first ever full-on race bike. Customized everything, from powder coated, drilled hubs to accommodate bladed spokes, to engraved Colnago chainrings and stem. Yeah, that pup was a gem. No, it doesn't get any easier. Tho, in the end I continue to try to justify my losses through karma. Eventually, everything will come back at you...good or bad. Just one man's opinion. Anyway, thanks for the kind words. I am glad that you see the reality of what I tried to convey, and I wish that your site visitors will also share in the same feelings. I hope in the very least you are able to recover what was fronted (and then some) and only have to worry about the deductible. I can definitely empathize with your strife in tracking receipts and the ongoing discovery process. God it sucks. Lemme know if I can help in any way. However, your conclusion about sums it up. At least you can still ride...its always good to remain optimistic, or more accurate realistic, in that things could always be worse, no matter how pissed you get. Remember, the karma police are watching...payback is a bitch. Cuth

Yeah, baby, the red sled. You were still pissed when you told me that story. Fuck, I'm pissed now. I just figured out a few more things those pricks go outta me.

Ugh.

And, you're absolutely right, It can always be worse. At least I can still ride. All that material shit doesn't really matter once we lose our health, does it?

I was thinking about the Karma police when I got dropped climbing Gates Pass today. I was looking at the various trash on the side of the road, thinking that if I found a purse or a wallet, I wouldn't feel right taking the money. Even though I just got hosed and could use a couple extra bucks, I couldn't keep it in good conscience.

I guess that's the difference between me and the pieces of shit that robbed me.

Here is today's joke, compliments of June and T-Jay.

A 90-year-old man went to his doctor for his annual checkup. The doctor asks, "How have you been feeling?" The 90-year-old man says, "I've never felt better. I have an 18-year-old bride, who is pregnant with my child. What do you think about that?" The doctor considers his question for a minute and then begins, "I have a friend who is an avid hunter. He never misses a season. One day, when he was going out, he accidentally picked up his umbrella instead of his gun. He came across a beaver dam. As he looked around, he saw a beaver sitting on the far bank of the pond. He raised his umbrella and went, 'Bang, bang, bang. The beaver fell over dead. What do you think of that?" The 90-year-old said, "I'd say somebody else shot that beaver." The doctor replied..... "My point exactly."

Oh, stop, my sides hurt. Really. Thats what they call a good one.

From: filthy lover Subject: condolences Hi jonny sorry to hear about the bad luck man not a lot I can say but my condolences are with you and if you believe in karma that lovely front wheel of your will collapse on the bastard that stole it and well hopefully it will hurt him, you are damn right about night laps at 4.30 am they suck. the site rules man -- phil the horse lie, cheat and listen to heavy metal music.

Right on brother. I hope that wheel collapses too. Sorta. I laced it up myself, and in a way I hope it lasts forever. Maybe we'll cross paths again someday. Who knows, it could happen.

Wednesday, February 20, 2002

monique   I   aria and aimee   I   susana

Another glorious morning in the trailer. I missed the usual Wednesday group ride 'cause I got up to late. Oh well. Maybe the usual group missed me instead.

I'll still get my miles in. Its not like I have anything else to do today. Weeee.

It seems that I forgot a few details of the race in my last post. Good thing 'ol Nate was there to pick up the slack.

From: Nate Subject: 24 Hours Jonny, I am hurt. No word about my broken seat? What is up? And what about setting up your bike on the trainer at 4:00 fucking a.m.! I think I even started a heater up for your ass. Did you hear we finished 4th. We would have won the damn thing with gears. Give me a call. Love, Nate Beef Beautiful Eyes

How could I forget? I guess I'm just a fucking dumbass. The story goes a little something like this. At 22 minutes into his first lap, yeah, he checked, it was 22 minutes, Nate's seat feel off his bike. He stops, picks up the pieces, releases, fuck me, I can't fix this and goes onward. He comes in at 1:16. Not bad considering I only pulled one lap that was faster all night.

Nate, or Beef, starts eating, stretching, and eating more, trying to get his hammered muscles back in order. A miserable lap like that would've broken lesser men. Men like men for example. Nate recovers and proceeded to light that mother fucker up all night long. And for his last lap, he pulls a 1:06, our fastest. The guy is a fucking animal.

Somewhere during the night, round about when I came in from my third lap, Nate looked miserable. He was running second and I was forth, so we had this weird symbiotic relationship going. While one of us was out on the course, the other was asleep. Or, at least trying to sleep.

24 hour races are weird like that. You ride a lap of a little over an hour, not so bad really. Then you get back and you're amped out of your head. Personally I always feel like I'm ready for another lap. Then, once you start eating and sitting around, it hits you. Like the side of a building. Thud.

We had a strange little dance going on through the night. I got back and Nates deep in the pain cave. He's sitting in a lawn chair, mouth open, drooling a little. I'm firing on all cylinders, going a mile a minute trying to help him get going. It worked, he left, and I proceeded to fall apart.

So while Nate was riding I was in a coma. When he returned, all happy as shit and excited, I was in a dark, dark place. He's cooling down while I tried to rev up the old engine again. Nothing is working for me. Coffee, soda, ultra fuel, nada. I'm dead.

Nate puts my bike in the trainer, and lights up a propane heater to point at me. He's got an apon tied on and he's making me cookies. I'm trying to pedal, trying to wake up. I don't think I've ever been this deep in the pain cave and I don't like it. How the fuck am I gonna get out of this mess?

The coffee I'm drinking is about as productive as throwing bricks in the Grand Canyon. I'm doing something, but there is no discernable effect. Ugh. Fuck me.

At this moment I completely understand the issue of doping in the pro peleton. I would take anything right now just to make this all go away. Fuck it, cut me Lou! Do it!

I somehow get it together enough to get out on the course, and you know what? It went pretty well. I felt good as soon as I hit the start tent. Especially once I got a look at all the other sorry ass bastards waiting to go back out. It was grim for some of those guys. Me, I was ready to lock and load, baby. Bring it on.

So, Nate pretty much saved me on that one. I was fucked nine ways to Tuesday and he grabbed me by the collar and shook me out of it. It really was my darkest hour.

Tuesday, February 19, 2002

erica   I   nicole   I   busty

I'm not only a client, I'm the player president. You better ask somebody.

From: Bellladonna Subject: Hello! Hello, I'm a fan of your site, you really make me laugh. I tell all my friends about it! I found it thru a link on paulkatcher.com... I hope you like my pix, if you like big Russian tits then I know you will. Visit my site, you'll love it. Love, lust, breast wishes, Belladonna, aka Sasha Sweet

    

How fucking hot is that? White shirt, pigtails and a plaid skirt. Forget about it. I'm dying over here. I pretty much just broke my penis in half over that shit.

This is her website. And you've gotta check out her diary. I think I love this girl. It's like my birthday came early this year.

If you're like me, and I'm afraid that many of you are, then you know how much that forwarded pity party sob story email thing can be. You know the shit I'm talking about. Well, check out this one my man Tom sent me. It's the King Hell forwarded email.

From: Tom Subject: Please help Billy My name is Billy Evans. I am a very sick little boy. My mother is typing this for me, because I can't. She is crying. The reason she is so sad is because I'm so sick. I was born without a body. It doesn't hurt, except when I try to breathe. The doctors gave me an artificial body. It is a burlap bag filled with leaves. The doctors said that was the best they could do on account of us having no money or insurance. I would like to have a body transplant, but we need more money. Mommy doesn't work because she said nobody hires crying people. I said, "Don't cry, Mommy," and she hugged my burlap bag. Mommy always gives me hugs, even though she's allergic to burlap and it makes her sneeze and chafes her real bad. I hope you will help me. You can help me if you forward this email to everyone you know. Forward it to people you don't know, too. Dr. Johansen said that for every person you forward this email to, Bill Gates will team up with AOL and send a nickel to NASA. With that funding, NASA will collect prayers from school children all over America and have the astronauts take them up into space so that the angels can hear them better. Then they will come back to earth and go to the Pope, and he will take up a collection in church and send all the money to the doctors. The doctors could help me get better then. Maybe one day I will be able to play baseball. Right now I can only be third base. Every time you forward this letter, the astronauts can take more prayers to the angels and my dream will be closer to coming true. Please help me. Mommy is so sad, and I want a body. I don't want my leaves to rot before I turn 10. If you don't forward this email, that's okay. Mommy says you're a mean and heartless bastard who doesn't care about a poor little boy with only a head. She says that if you don't stew in the raw pit of your own guilt-ridden stomach, she hopes you die a long slow, horrible death and then burn forever in hell. What kind of cruel person are you that you can't take five freakin' minutes to forward this to all your friends so they can feel guilt and shame about ignoring a poor, bodiless nine-year-old boy? Please help me. I try to be happy, but it's hard. I wish I had a kitty. I wish I could hold a kitty. I wish I could hold a kitty that wouldn't chew on me and try to bury its stinking turds in the leaves of my burlap body. I wish that very much. Thank You, Billy "Smiles" Evans P.S. You can send the money to the person who sent you this because that person is very trustworthy.

Yeah, yeah, fuck Billy Evans. You wanna help somebody, send money to me and the Gnome so we can eat something other than this fucking mac and cheese bullshit. I'm getting sick of this trailer park and canned tuna.

No, I'm just kidding. This is fucking great. It's cheaper than dirt and I can just ride all my time away. Please don't send me any money. Spend it on beer for yourself. You deserve it.

Today I rode over to Mount Lemon for the first time. I won't lie and say I climbed the whole thing. I turned tail and packed it when I saw a sign reading elevation 6000 feet. It was right past the sign that said something about a ski resort being 15 miles away. Jesus, what a hill.

I heard some guy in town rode the whole friggin thing in an hour forty. You won't be seeing me do that. Ever.

Monday, February 18, 2002

rita   I   angelina   I   veronica

Another week, another opportunity to ride myself into the funking ground. Yee haa. Let's get into some reader mail.

Oh, I should mention that I'm hitting up an internet café a couple of nights a week, downloading all my mail at once, and sending the replies later. What does that all mean? I've been replying to emails a whole lot slower than I used to. I'm reading all of them, and trying to get back to everyone that takes the time to write in. It's just a couple of days turn around now.

And, sometimes I have trouble relaying mail off my internet provider up in Moscow, whom I still send a check to every month by the way. I've had a few messages come back as undeliverable a day after I sent them. I'm trying to fix that annoying little issue, but in the meantime, some mail isn't getting through.

From: dupe Subject: a very interesting link hi big jonny,I have come accross a link that is very interesting and somewhat applicable for your site. dutchteens.nl/galleries... it would make a nice story. ciao, ben

A very interesting link indeed. And, yes, that would make a nice story. How much fun would it be to say, hey guys, I went for a ride last Tuesday and the strangest thing happened. I've even got pictures to prove it. Hey, it could happen, couldn't it?

Why can't I come across something like that? All I ever get on rides is dropped. And, sometimes, if I'm really lucky, I bonk.

On the theft front, Mr. Cuth Baby drops a little knowledge.

I don't know what this is all about, and I don't care.

From: Cuth Subject: Beat first ask questions later Jonny- Man, I am so sorry to hear about the loss. I can only express my sympathy in that I too have been the victim of many thefts. Irreplaceable, family antique watches, countless dollars, multiple custom bikes, old school and new skateboards, sunglasses, huge amounts of stereo equipment and even antique bottle openers! No matter how miniscule or grandiose the dollar amount or quantity of belongings taken, each and every one of these acts is a direct attack on our personal space and a full on kick-in-the-face, ass-fucking violation of our hard work and ambition to legitimately acquire the things we desire, whether that be a terracotta roof tile from some schmucks house or a radial laced Mavic 517 on a Chris King hub (sorry Husky and O'Matic but the rule applies, fun is fun until you infringe on others). Most of this done with no idea what grief they inflict on others for the sake of a measly dollar, laugh at another's expense, or some finite high. Not that a finite high is bad, but for fuck's sake, earn your fucking cash and go buy it legitimately!! Some people's kids. And what if they do have an idea? Well, Jonny, think about that. Kinda like premeditated murder isn't it? I guess it is all different until it hits us personally. I don't mean to sound misanthropic or virtuous, but you know, the population is growing exponentially and we all need to gel in increasingly tighter spaces, so c'mon people, respect one another for their person, for their space, for their being, and for their belongings. You know how pissed off you would be if they took something of yours Yeah, you know, kill that mother fucker. So Jonny, publish that list, and the details of the other goods (you never know) and if I happen to run into someone who doesn't give me the correct password, I'll beat first and ask questions later. ttyl Cuth

That letter so on point I just don't have anything to add. You my friend, have a way with words.

Lets see, what else is going on. Oh yeah, the 24 hour race. Where do I start?

I got there Saturday morning. The rest of my drunkcyclist teammates were already there and had set up a killer camp spot. These guys have is covered top to bottom. Twice even.

We managed a fine fifth place last year in the 24 Hours of the Old Pueblo. In our sophomore effort, we expected to continue our record of unbridled ass kicking. We're realists. We accept the fact the 4 man team is a very competitive category and we're not doing ourselves any favors by tackling it on singles speeds. But while we may not burn out the fastest lap times of the day, we sure as shit keep on pounding through the night.

Men are separated from the boys at 4:30 am, my friends. That crack of dawn shit will make or break your weekend. And who bats clean up on our squad? Me.

I'm the last one picked for kickball, the fat kid no one wants on their team. I go out forth, virtually guarantying a race heavy on the night laps and short on easy street. Fuck, it sucks.

My slowest lap last year was the one I took where the sun came up. This year was almost no exception, but I'm getting ahead of myself already, aren't I?

As per instructed by my other team members, I went to a second hand store on the way out of town to peruse the ladies garment section. Savers, the thrift that shops like a department store. I love that place. I scored a wacked out flower print shirt adorned with the tassels you tie up on the side. In a word: Classy.

Not satisfied with cross dressing alone, I also snatched up some fine golf gear. Green plaid pants with a 48 inch waist and some white Arnold Palmer shoes. I had in the car already a big honking collared blue polyester shirt and a visor with a flipped up brim to complete my Jesper Parnivik look. In a word: Pimp.

Eight ultra fuels, a half gallon of coffee and a borrowed front wheel later I was ready to race. What did I find to replace my kick ass Chris King Mavic 517 race wheel that some asshole stole out of my car last Saturday night? Staying with the Mavic theme, I got my hot hands on a Cross Max demo wheel. Demo like demo-olish.

I gave it hell, and it's fucking still rocking and rolling straight as an arrow. Nice wheel, real nice. Did I run tubeless? Um, no. There is a metric assload of cactus in and about Tucson, and this race course is no exception. If you ride like me, with no regard for personnel safety, you're gonna blow a few corners. Like most of them.

I hit pieces of cholla and paddle cactus on each and every lap. I also hit a couple of suicidal desert rats, but they don't so much cause flats as just go crunch. Icky. In two years, no flats for me because I use slim tubes. I'd way rather deal with a little more rotational weight if I won't have to fix flats out the dark.

We hit the start dressed up like a bunch of transvestites. And we looked damn good. Kyle rode first decked out in a tight little raver top, skirt, a wig and stockings. Fucking scary when you think about it.

After the initial excitement of the start, I had to sit around and pic my ass for three and a half hours before I could ride. You have no idea how much it sucks. Anyway, my time came and I went out for my one daylight lap. I had better pay attention, because the next three are gonna be in the darky dark.

I turned a respectable 1 hour 13 minute lap. I was satisfies, thinking at the time that I could not have gone any faster. It turned out that I didn't. My first lap was my fastest. The rest of them were more along the line of 1:18, 1:19 and 1:21.

As the day wore on, more and more people began to show up in the drunkcyclist compound. I hesitate to call them support staff, because they were only there to do one thing. And it wasn't to fill water bottles. It was to get totally fucked up and break shit. And did they ever.

Dane from Maine and the husky midget brought down their dirt bikes and proceeded to teat shit up. I saw Dane out on the course about 2:30 in the morning yelling encouragement astride his Honda. Yardsale came all the way out from wherever the fuck he lives now on the east coast. I think its North Carolina. Nic and Casey were there too, and in rare form.

Husky is getting even husky-er. He can't even fit into his riding pants anymore. Casey was calling him Michelin Man all night. I found a nice pin with Mr. Michelin riding a bicycle and gave it to husky. He wore it all night.

Those guys are awesome. It was great having them around the start tent when I finished screaming and yelling my name, spilling beer on everything. Oh, the pride. There were more of us there to get loaded than to race. We feel it's a winning ratio. We were there to take all the day and night points both on and off the bike. Just because we can.

Missing Link Racing had a keg, just like they always do at the races. Just because they can. I was so deep in the pain cave, I couldn't even think about drinking. It would have derailed the party train for sure. As it was, I was heading full tilt for Hurtsville. Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead.

I was having enough trouble just trying to eat after I finished my laps. I never thought I would have trouble with that. Eating is one of my strong points after all. Maybe I should start smoking weed again, just for racing purposes. I hear it opens up the lungs. Fuck, I hear it gets you high too, so it's gotta be a good idea.

Big Nate pulled our fastest lap, a 1:06, out of his ass in the morning. This set the stage for Dru to totally fuck me over. All that bastard had to do was ride a 1:25, or slower, and I could pack it. But no. Dru goes all out and gets back at 11:53 am. Just so I have to do another lap. Thank you very much.

I went out and rode a 1:28. I was done. I rode most of the lap with a guy from Vegas with a couple of broken ribs. Cool guy, I'm bummed I forgot his name. I heard he rode a :58 minute lap too. I would have liked to ask him about that. Unreal.

Big Gay Randy rode for one of the U of A teams and put in a 1:00:30 lap that threw them into first. They kept their edge through the night and stood atop the podium Sunday afternoon. Fucking kick ass. That guy just likes winning I guess.

That's going to have to be it for now friends. I'll have more reports from the trenches tomorrow, and maybe even some race reports from the Valley of the Sun.

I want to make sure I thank the following people in no particular order for making my weekend kick ass from top to bottom: Tall Paul for the lights and endless Cliff Shots, the Mavic demo-olish program for the Cross Max front wheel, All my team mates for throwing it the fuck down all weekend long, Lee, Todd and everyone at Epic Rides for another smooth edition of the 24 Hours in the Old Pueblo, Domenic's Cycling Imports for the tents and Astroturf, everyone who supports drunkcyclist and yelled at me on the course, everyone who came just to get drunk and act like a maniac, Kelly and Lisa for just being there and doing what they do, Pounds of Bounds for showing me what pain looks like, Avid for making the best brakes on the planet, Bell helmets for the fine head gear, Specialized for making the tires that kept me out of danger, Intense shoes for the comfy foot wear and last but not least the makers of Slime. Two years on the most cacti strewn course in the world and no flats. That shit works.

Friday, February 15, 2002

yana   I   mason   I   chrissy

Top ten rejected Valentines day cards. From me to you, one day late. And a buck short.

10. I admire your strength, I admire your spunk But the thing I like best, is getting you drunk. 9. Our love will never become cold and hollow Unless, one day, you refuse to swallow. 8. I bought this Valentine's card at the store In hopes that, later, you'd be my whore. 7. This feels so good, it feels so right I just wish it wasn't $250 a night. 6. You're a woman of style, you're a woman of class Especially when I'm spanking, your big-round-fat ass. 5. Before I met you, my heart was so famished But now I'm fulfilled. . . SO MAKE ME A SAMICH!!! 4. Through all the things that came to pass Our love has grown. . . but so's your ass. 3. You're a honey. . . and you're a cutie I just wished you had J-Lo's "booty". 2. I don't wanna be sappy or silly or corny So, right to the point, let's do it, I'm horny! 1. If you think that hickey looks like a blister You should check out the one that I gave to your sister!

Fun, fun stuff for sure. And so close to the truth it almost hurts.

From: jim Subject: stolen shit That sucks that your shit was stolen. In a way I feel lucky to have gotten your t-shirt and socks before that piece of shit popped your trunk. But now I'm afraid to wear my dc apparel for fear of being chased down by a horde of drunk one-speeders yelling something about a big gay deer. In their state of intoxication they might not recognize me as one of their own. --the Pig Oh yeah, can you plug the Squealer on your site. I want the porn fiends properly represented at my event. Don't forget to mention that we'll provide beer. That will get 'em there.

Thanks Jim, really. And, that is the Squealer Jim's talking about. An even I missed last year because my fat stinkin ass had to work. I'm not going to miss it again. Click here to check it out.

I'm getting ready for the 24 Hours in the Old Pueblo race tomorrow. I'm sure it'll knock my dick totally in the dirt for about three days, but, it'll be great fun. Not as much fun as this. But fun non the less.

I think we'll do pretty good this year. I quite convinced that I'm going to come back friggin crippled, but it'll be worth it. I'll let ya'll know how it went on Monday.

Thursday, February 14, 2002

Susana spears   I   asia carrera   I   joanne guest

I rode for four hours yesterday. Apparently Gord Fraser is tapering down, because I got dropped.

I also learned that just because coffee refills are a quarter it doesn't mean you should drink tens cups and then go for a ride over Gates Pass. It won't be much fun when you're ears start ringing on the climb. But at least you get some quality "jonny time" when you get dropped by Gnomey Gnomenburg. You know, sit up, spin an easy gear, sip a little water and ride by yourself for awhile. Good times.

Here is today's Valentine joke.

Little Matt comes home from first grade and tells his father that they learned about the history of Valentine's Day.

"Since Valentine's Day is for a Christian saint and we're Jewish," he asks, "will God get mad at me for giving someone a valentine?"

Matt's father thinks a bit, then says "No, I don't think God would get mad. Who do you want to give a valentine to?"

"Osama Bin Laden," David says.

"Why Osama Bin Laden," his father asks in shock.

"Well," Matt says, "I thought that if a little American Jewish boy could have enough love to give Osama a valentine, he might start to think that maybe we're not all bad, and maybe start loving people a little bit.

And if other kids saw what I did and sent valentines to Osama, he'd love everyone a lot.

And then he'd start going all over the place to tell everyone how much he loved them and how he didn't hate anyone anymore."

His father's heart swells and he looks at his boy with a newfound pride.

"Matt, that's the most wonderful thing I've ever heard."

"I know," Matt says, "and once that gets him out in the open, the Marines could blow the shit out of him."

When you're done laughing your ass off to that one, check this out. It's all for a good cause.

I've gotten a lot of email this week offering support and condolence in regards me getting jacked for a ton of shit. Those mother fuckers.

From: mudflap Subject: sorry man hey, that really sux to hear about those ditch scum bastards stealing your shit. i hate thieves, especially bike or bike-related thieves. low, man, really low. a buddy of mine and i have had some shit stolen from us, out of our cars which we may or may not have remembered to lock, but that doesn't matter, because the bottom line is that what doesn't belong to you isn't fucking yours. period. i was under the impression that most animals walking on two feet understood this, but apparently not. evolution has a long way to go. he and i were actually thinking it might be fun on a day when we have nothing to do, to plant a bike on my car and sit back in the bushes with a six pack and a pellet gun. i cant think of a better way to spend a sunny day. good luck gettin your shit back in order, mudflap

Thanks man. I'm thinking of looking around for a duck blind some hunter had in his backyard just taking up space this time of year. We could wheel it out on the sidewalk, get a few cases and hunker down for some serious blasting. It'll be great. And speed-freak thieves make an attractive wall mount that can be enjoyed for years to come.

Click here. And then click here.

Wednesday, February 13, 2002

monica   I   devon   I   nikki nova

I am shot to shit right now. I did the nice little easy spin Wednesday ride that meets down by U of A. It's a piece of cake, let me tell ya.

Nah, it ain't that bad, but I am cooked. I found an internet café I can use to update the site. Outstanding

I'm pretty stokes about the 24 hour race this weekend. It's gonna kick ass from top to bottom. Just like you know it should.

Fuck it, I'm hungry. More tomorrow.

Tuesday, February 12, 2002

lesbians   I   aimee sweet   I   angel

Day one in the gay-bi-curious hostel on wheels is in the books. We came, we saw, we went for a ride. This place is gonna be like pressed ham in about twelve minutes. You should see the trailer park we're in, the Desert Shore. It's high class. Like crack cocaine.

I have no idea where and how I'm gonna scam up some internet access. I'll find some internet café, or some shit I'm sure. Setting up something in the big gay box is gonna be expensive and therefore unappetizing to both the gnome and I.

Speaking of unappetizing and expensive, the car break in of last Saturday night is getting worse and worse. As many of you know, I came down to Arizona with some new drunkcyclist t-shirts and, this is the real bitch, socks I had made by the 'sock guy'. They were badass, black with the dc logo in yellow on the cuff.

My cost on the shit that got stolen was over a grand. No shit. And my insurance will only cover 250 of it. No shit. I just got fucked in the ass, hard, with no Vaseline.

Life really is a bitch.

The good news is that the two sets of race wheels, tent, sleeping bag, therma rest, and sunglasses will be covered. Minus a 500 dollar deductible, of course.

At least that's something, right?

I can't tell you when I'll have more socks, t-shirts or anything else. I took it in the ass on this one. I don't see me having the money to print up much of anything for a long, long time. Like never, probably.

If anyone really wants a drunkcyclist shirt, just do what we did last year for the single speed race series. Get a wife beater and a black magic marker. Write drunkcyclist across the front and your name one the back. Then get out there and start kicking some ass. Make me proud.

Monday, February 11, 2002

veronica   I   chrissy m   I   susana

The Gnome and I are living fat. Large like Jan Ullrich in February baby. I'm so stoked I can't see straight. I hardly even mind that some dickheads jacked me for all the shit in my car Saturday night.

OK, I lied, I still mind. I'm madder than hell. But fuck it man, the sun will still come up tomorrow. At least I still have my bikes and my health. It could be a whole lot worse.

All I'm gonna do this week is blow my fucking brains out on the bike. I don't give a shit about anything else.

Can ya blame me?

Sunday, February 10, 2002…Second Edition

natalie   I   cameron   I   lesbians

If anyone got one of the new drunkcyclist shirts or a pair of the socks from me in the last week, consider yourself lucky. You now own a collectors item. My car was broken into last night and all of the remaining clothing was stolen. That means there are about a hundred pairs of drunkcyclist socks and 40 shirts out there somewhere, probably in a dumpster or at Buffalo Exchange. That shit cost me a lot of money. Fuck me.

I could not be more pissed off.

What a fucking pain in my ass. I'm out wheels, tires, clothes, sunglasses, tent, sleeping bag and all types of other shit I haven't even figured out yet. The good news is that I still have my tool box, shoes and both of my bikes. Although the did steal my totally badass front mountain bike wheel. Fucking radial laced Mavic 517 on a Chris King hub. Shit was totally dope. I'll miss that wheel. Fucking bastards.

I don't even want to talk about what race wheels got jacked. Let's just say it's a good thing I've got insurance. Whoo boy, this is gonna hurt.

They even pried open my Thule box thingy and fucked it all up. Sons a bitches, that thing was fucking expensive. All my camping gear is gone, but they left me a lawn chair. Good, now I can sit down and get drunk.

I have a list of everyone I sold a shirt to. I'm thinking of publishing it online so if anyone out there notices some asshole wearing my shit who didn't pay for it, you can bring me his head. It'd be a nice gesture, I can piss on it and kick it around like a fucking soccer ball.

Now I can't even ride because I have to wait for the cops to show up. Ho hum, la te da. That's about enough for now, I'll rant more later.

Sunday, February 10, 2002

47 year old school girl   I   jezy   I   danica

You want a peak at my life once I head north again? Click here. That's what I have to work with.

Looks like the Kendrick - Deary ride I used to do last fall is rated at 4 ½ out of 5. I'm jonny big dick from now on. I didn't see the two climbs out of Asotin on the list, but they should be. They are friggin huge. By far the biggest and best I've seen around those parts.

I went out to the White Tanks race today. No I didn't race it. Forty five dollars is just too much money for three laps around in a circle.

So I spectated, like a man I did. I rode the course with Bensey and a few others whose names I've forgotten. One of them was named John, I think. The name rings a bell for some reason.

And there was some beer involved. (of course) The Missing Link Racing guys always seem to have a keg. In fact, they're sponsored by a brewery. Smart, real smart. Good bunch of guys, it was a pleasure to hang out with them.

I tried to sign up for the Valley of the Sun stage race today as well. And when I say tried, I mean failed. Cat one through four is full up. I'm so fucking lazy.

The good news is that I've gone from an alternate to a full blown member of the drunkcyclist squad for the 24 Hours in the Old Pueblo. I don't know what I was ever thinking with this road bike shit. I should have been gunning for the 24 hour race the whole time.

I'm a fucking moron. What else is new.

I won't be able to update the page for a few days. But, I got a new mp3 up and some new sites of the week. What am I doing you ask? I'm moving from my sister's plush Scottsdale digs to Tucson. Me and the Gnome are shacking up in a motorhome. Yes sir, an R.V. Nice, huh?

Click here for a picture of our humble home on wheels.

I'm sure we'll have more pics as soon is we get down there and start clowning around like a couple of fucking jackasses. 'Cause we are a couple of jackasses when it comes right down to it.

I can't wait. It's going to be killer. We've got everything a man could need. Cheap rent, a couple of bikes, lawn chairs and a Bar B Que grill. Get up at 7:00, ride at 10:00, home at 5:00 and grill up dinner at 6:00. I can get used to that. I feel it's really going to play to my strengths.

Saturday, February 9, 2002

kitana jade   I   lesbians   I   kyrstal and sky

So I'm riding home from my nice little four hour ride today, feeling a little sporty and some son of a bitch gives me the 'ol "honk and swerve" routine. He's got two girls with him in his Suzuki Samurai and he's out to impress. I catch him at the next red light, roll past slow, make eye contact and flip him a big old bird. Fuck you, buddy.

So now he's coming up on me again. I'm looking over my shoulder at him and he starts honking and driving up on me. I spit on his windshield.

I fucking hate people sometimes.

On the other hand, we do have some great reader mail today, do dig in.

From: Steve Fry Subject: RE: you missed big jonny, here's a photo of what you missed. nothing says drunkcyclist like a keg, pulled by bike. -stevie the wonder

It looks like you guys found a little slice of happiness right there. Nice work, gentlemen, nice work. You guys are fucking heroes. No doubt about it. One man, one keg, one dream. Awesome. Get 'er done.

From: Cuth Subject: Eronomics Jonny- This has been round once or twice before, but in light of recent events, an addendum was necessary. Feudalism: You have two cows. Your lord takes some of the milk. Fascism: You have two cows. The government takes both, hires you to take care of them and sells you the milk. Communism: You have two cows. You must take care of them, but the government takes all the milk. Capitalism: You have two cows. You sell one and buy a bull. Your herd multiplies, and the economy grows. You sell them and retire on the income. Enronism: You have two cows. You sell three of them to your publicly listed company, using letters of credit opened by your brother-in-law at the bank, then execute a debt-equity swap with an associated general offer so that you get all four cows back, with a tax exemption for five cows. The milk rights of the six cows are transferred through an intermediary to a Cayman Island company secretly owned by the majority shareholder who sells the rights to all seven cows back to your listed company. The Enron annual report says the company owns eight cows, with an option on one more.

Yeah, that sounds right. I'm pretty sure that's about exactly how they did it. I love how the guys who play it fast and loose walk away making money on the deal. Actually showing a profit. I think that's the best part. All they leave behind in a smoldering pile of ashes and a whole bunch of poor fucks saying, "what happened?"

From: mark Subject: somebody to pull for at the olympics jonny- if this doesn't make you, and everyone else, pull for this guy, nothing will! you have to focus all of the good mojo you can at jimmy shea. he's the favorite for the gold in the skeleton event at the olympics. you know, the crazy f'ers that go head-first down the bobsled run. they go @ 80mph and pull 4 g's! anyway- his grandfather won 2 gold medals in speedskating at the 1932 olympics in lake placid, his father competed in 3 cross-country ski events in 1964, in Innsbruck, Austria, and now he becomes the third generation of his family to compete for the u.s. at the winter games. jimmy's grand-dad was known as "THE CHIEF" around lake placid, (he lived there) and was jimmy's biggest fan and supporter. the pisser to this lovely story is: just 17 short days before the olympics were to begin, and at the age of 91!, jimmy's grand-dad was killed by a drunk driver! 17 days before he was to see his grandson walk into the stadium and possibly win a gold medal, he gets killed by some selfish asshole that was too stupid or lazy to get a ride home. i'm going to will jimmy shea to win that f'ing medal, and everyone else should too! later- mark

Thanks for sending me that story. I hadn't heard that one, and it's about the shittiest thing I've ever heard. Bad news, man. I'm all for Jimmy Shea from this moment forward. I hope he gets the friggin gold. I'll be watching him for sure.

From: Jef Subject: sperm sandwich 100fukin?s wowfriday the 15 staying in a gutter maybe if im lucky try flakerson his couch is there.staying till march 1. lets ride some bikes,yes the cove is coming. it rocks,a little heavfty the way its set up now.ive been riding rythem sections on it a 12 pack to be precise,also learned wall rides and sprocet grinds on the handjob 1 byke 1gear 1love. r you ready for some darkness,see the big GAY dear some,love your favorite yardsale,by the way fuck spelling i love the mp3 of the week but the week is up(newproduct}

Nothing says "I love you" like a letter from Yardsale. You're like that one mother fucker on fat albert, mush mouth. Oba Kabe Fatba Alba and so on. But, I'm picking up what you're putting down. And, Jesus Christ, everyone is gonna be here soon. We should burn this fucking town to the ground. I say we rape the horses and run off the women. Or something along those lines. And stop calling me a gay deer.

Friday, February 8, 2002

exotica   I   szilvia   I   sunny leone

Holy shit, what a fucking nightmare. I just tore my eyes out with a fork.

From: Oliver Subject: new on-one hardcore street-dirt frame Probably not what you were expecting. it rules!! fuckin 'A' Check singletrackworld.com for the lo-down Laters o1i

Man, that thing is capital PIMP. I'm defiantly feelin' it. I saw a Kelly single speed cross rig at the trade show I couldn't take my friggin eyes off. It was lean, mean and green. Absolutely beautiful in every way. And this on-one is just as cool. Fuck, talk about another useless addition to my already swollen stable of bikes. I want on of those rigs in a bad way, baby. Fucking totally cool. Fuck, I need to start selling plasma and all this semen I'm just wasting.

Here's the link to the on-one webpage. While I'm totally riding on-ones jock, have you seen the forks they make? They look a lot like the old Yo Eddy Fat Chance forks of yesteryear. Fucking bad ass. I really like rigid forks. I can go faster downhill on suspension, but that doesn't mean I'm having any more fun.

I'm so sick of all this gimmicky crap that is always in need of constant reassurance and massaging. It's all fucking bullshit. I just want a bike I can ride that doesn't fuck up constantly and require piles of cash to be thrown at it periodically. My next bike will be steel and rigid and have one gear. That's the way cave man did it, that's the way dad did it.

Anyone for some motocross?

I totally spaced signing up for the White Tanks mountain bike race today. I had to drop my car off for a whole varied assortment of repair and service this morning and I didn't turn in my entry form on time. I guess I had till around noon. Too bad I'm such a fuckup. I hope they allow race day entry. And, I'm sure if they do, they'll dick me for a couple extra bucks.

Staying with the "dick" theme, check out these two letters.

From: Chris Subject: numb nuts Jonny, Help, I can't feel my dick. No, I don't mean THAT kind of help!!! I just got off the rollers. I tried tilting the saddle more forward. No better. The Kreitlers are the my only hope for this Spring. I don't want my manhood falling off, then I'd be like Stile. Help!!! Numb in New Jersey p.s. While I wait for your reply I'm off the Zippy's for a sixer of Yard's Ale, Philly's finest, baybee!

I don't know how to keep Mister Happy feeling, well, I'd settle for just feeling. When I ride my rollers, I go from 'free and easy' to 'so numb it ain't even there anymore' in about 40 minutes. I'll tell you this much, if anyone knows how to fix this little problem post something on the message board. Inquiring minds want to know.

From: Jason Subject: Little Tex Incident Jonny, I wanted to send a report quickly before the rumors spread far and wide. I don't know what Snake sent but this is the real story. The day started out right heating up to 70 degrees drinking some Late for the Train coffee, and nothing to do but ride. Six hours on the slate of beautiful flat farmland. About hour two on a smooth stretch of reservation blacktop, Snake coils up and strikes for a "Entering Gila Indian Reservation" sign. Only city limit signs count for the Krispy Kreme Prime but Snake likes to practice winning. So now I solo with Snake 100m up the road. No cars, perfect time to practice peeing off the bike. I roll up the right side of my shorts because I hang to the right. Little Tex in hand, I shoot a line of urine as far from my body and bike that I can. I getting good distance and try to write my name. Out of nowhere and out of sight, the mysterious pot hole strikes. I'm on the top tube trying to save it but have troubles and I'm on the ground sliding. With a huge tailwind, 23mph was an easy pace and now I'm going from 23 to 0 fast. I finally stop rolling and disconnected from my ride. No Snake and no cars= no reason to get up fast. My first concern Little Tex--he's fine with no dents or scratches probably due to my right hand never releasing him during the whole ordeal. As for the rest of my right side, I have two gashes on both sides of my knee, road rash from my hip to my shoulder. Left side good. Not too bad a sacrifice for my little guy and he is small. Sadly, I come from a small penis town. I take E-caps but no help in the penis dept. Bout all from warmsville, we did finish our flatland century and now I got go try out Little Tex just to be sure. Have to be a trial run by myself. Hurt and lonely, Jason

Buddy, I don't know if that's going to end the rumors or just start more. Fuck me, I'm glad to hear you're still alive after that tumble. You say you never let go during the whole thing? You are a man with priorities.

And at the risk of sounding gayer than a tennis helmet, what's this small penis crap? You are the holder of the Texas Package after all, be proud. I've seen you in your lycra, hell we all have. It looks like you've got a friggin water bottle stuffed down there for Christ's sake. Who are you trying to kid?

Thursday, February 7, 2002

grocery store?   I   school girl?   I   jenna jameson

Some things just piss me off. Maybe it'll piss you off too. I think everyone should read this.

If anyone wants to know just what kind of tank heads show up at a Wednesday group ride in Tuscon, let me tell you they are much tougher than I am. Oh yeah. If they're a ten, I'm a negative 412.

From: response Subject: whip the donkeys ass starchild.streams.com when you are reeeeaaalllllyyy fuckedup, this game makes even less sense. Response

My man, that is one fucked up game. But, I still played it twice. Maybe I should drink about ten beers and have another go. It ain't doin much for me now. And I like the Wesley Willis reference.

From: marco Subject: RE: Breaking down the greatest comebacks. Agree with you on Lance but you forget someone else who performed an amazing comeback. Got a burst appendix (sp?) (almost died) Got shot (almost died) Ate too many burgers (almost died) Won the tour de france when the europeans had it pretty much sewn up. Top man that Greg Lemond. Too easily forgotten in the current cycling climate. marco

Not to mention he once got a forth place in Paris - Roubaix, best showing by an American to date. A feat only matched by George Hincapie. Just like his three tour victories has only been matched so far. And, was it twice as World Champion? Two words: All rounder.

From: Cuth Subject: An Interesting Site Hey Jonny- Thought you might find this site of interest. whitehouse.org Cuth

You know me like a fucking book, don't ya? Great site, just great. What a crack up.

From: Husky Subject: The case-town bandit Here's Casey with the trusty battering ram. He's quite a hoot! Definitely no spandex taking place on this ride. Where's the Ozzy soundtrack? Here's a pic of Case and the "Ram" obliterating a terracotta roof tile we stole from some schmuck's house. Call us bad! Late.

Anyone else want to know what drunkcyclist is all about? I didn't think so.

Wednesday, February 6, 2002

tabitha   I   leanna scott   I   angel

I had heard about this, but I still can't believe it. I guess it was inevitable when you miss a bunch of drunk mother fuckers up with a pair of 72's. Poor bastard. At least he went out with his boots on, so to speak. Here it is folks, death by boobs.

From: Little cyclist Subject: gotta read Groom Killed By Stripper's Boobs Wednesday January 16, 2002 GENEVA - A fun-filled bachelor party at a strip club turned deadly when a 32-year-old groom-to-be who was enjoying the attentions of a well-endowed stripper suffocated while his face was buried in her breasts. The mind-boggling drama unfolded, say cops, while Daniel Greene was attending his bachelor party at the Pretty Kitty strip club. The club had been rented out for the private affair. According to investigators, Greene was enjoying a lap dance when disaster struck: One of the strippers, Kandy Kane, got too into her performance and suffocated the man between her 72-DD breasts. Witnesses said that Greene had had his fair share of beer, but didn't seem out-of-control. When the song "I'm Too Sexy" began to play, Greene became excited and began to dance on the tabletop, hooting and hollering, pals said, "like an idiot." Miss Kane, apparently pleased to see someone enjoying her choice in music, moved in closer. When Greene took his seat, she began giving him a lap dance, shaking her breasts in his face. The more she shook, the deeper Greene got lost in her cleavage. "Daniel was having so much fun," partygoer John Gillman said. "We all thought he loved being in that gal's chest. "Who could have known that when he was waving his hands around, he was signaling for help?" Cheering onlookers eventually realized that Greene was no longer moving, and pulled him from between Miss Kane's breasts. Now Greene's family is suing Miss Kane and the Pretty Kitty for wrongful death. Greene's father, George, won't specify the amount they are suing for, but claims that it isn't about the money. "Those breasts were lethal weapons," he told reporters. "The Pretty Kitty should not have allowed Miss Kane to have her bust enhanced to the size that she did. "We hope that by filing this lawsuit, we can send a message to other strippers: keep your bra size within a reasonable range." Kandy Kane made a statement through her attorneys: "I thought he liked it in there. " The Pretty Kitty declined comment.

My vote? Its gotta be bullshit. Funny bullshit, but bullshit none the less. This next letter is not bullshit.

From: Les Subject: no subject Hey Johnny, Tell little cyclist from SC that another great cyclist came back from a life threatening gunshot wound to win the Tour, all hail Greg LeMond. Keep up the good work. Later

Thanks, and I will keep up the good work. Because at drunkcyclist, quality is job one. We build excitement. Tonight, make it drunkcyclist. Something like that anyway.

And you're right about LeMond. Between Armstrong, LeMond and Museuw you've got about all the comeback stories I can handle.

How cool is paul katcher? Well, he linked this in his last update. Can I get a "hell yeah"?

I'm heading down to Tucson to ride a bit with Big Gay Randy and do some on site trailer park inspections. I gotta find a place with trashy broads and low rent that isn't so ghetto that the Gnome and I get friggin killed. I let you know how it goes. I figure where ever we go, we'll be straight running shit after about three days. We're just like that.

Tuesday, February 5, 2002

um, bad jonny   I   amber michaels   I   tanya danielle

I was offline for about 30 hours and 40 new messages showed up in my inbox. Since I'm completely ruined from this weekends racing, and can't come up with anything coherent and witty, I'm just going to share some of these gems with ya'll. Good shit this week. My fans fucking rule.

From: Ride fatty Subject: Thanks for the great site Thought you might like to check out the ladies that us mtb riders enjoy riding in Denver. Check out milehighamateurs.com

Good work gentlemen. Those girls look like fucking trailer trash. I love trailer trash. I hope the gnome and I can find some of our own soon. There is a pretty good chance I'll be in Tucson living in a motor home by the end of the week. White trailer trash bitch pimpin', here I come.

From: little cyclist Subject: from SC I went to a msnbc poll the other day and saw the greatest comebacks of all time by an athlete. Nowhere on that list was Lance Armstrong. Instead they had athletes such as Jennifer fucking Capriatti. She came back from a drug addiction, how fucked is that? Anyway, I am going to send you the link, maybe you could persuade your readers to write about this horse shit. Not that I really am fretting about it, but fuck man, some people are just fucking ignorant and don't think. Breaking down greatest comebacks. Thanks brotha and keep up the good work!

You're right. That is horse shit. Yeah Jenny, you go girl. That Lance guy, he had it easy. What a pussy. Now take a tennis player hopped up on goof balls... Now that's tough guy stuff. Fuck you guys, really.

From: Husky Subject: I am the Husky Midget, I come to take your girlfriend! Big Schwanson, How the hell are ya? I guess we're not racing in the 24 hours of Oracle this year. That sucks because I've been training really hard. (NOT!) The only physical activity I've seen lately is when I try to break it off in your mom! I guess Swilliams is coming to Penix for a little while. We'll suffer a mild corndog shortage for a few weeks. Case-town and myself have been spending Tuesday afternoons with Satan. Last Tuesday we took out the battering ram and terrorized Tempe. The battering ram is his cruiser with a swingset welded to the front for optimum destructo characteristics. I tried to "later" a cinderblock wall with no such luck. The laws of inertia helped save my neck, chest, knees and head. Case pulverized a ceramic roof tile that I stood up in the sidewalk for him. I thought only black powder could cause such destruction. We capped off our evening with PBR as we took out those pesky alley trashcans. Luckily for us they were relatively empty. Case is the only boy I would consider kissing on the mouth. What!?...Sorry, I lost my concentration for a second. Did you catch wind of the NightRacin' we did out at Casa Grande? I would encourage every god-fearing cyclist to NightRace sometime. It consists of going to races on a Saturday night after all the granola, gu, and spandex have long since departed. Bring your favorite group of badasses and lost of PBR. You may also choose to "head for the mountains" if you know what I mean. Drink, ride, drink... you get the idea. The important thing is that you follow the exact race course and search for shortcuts. Certain maneuvers yield points. I won the NightRace by puking on demand, carrying most of the beer, and nearly breaking my arm. These activities score very high during a NightRace. All participants must bring a prize so everyone wins after a long night of NightRacing. The idea is not so much speed, rather agility and resilience. Remember, no matter how much it hurts, eventually your body will heal itself. Jonny, can't wait to hear from you. I'd be interested in a weekly column at dc. let me know what's up. We can call it "the world according to Husk". We are going to see GWAR at the Nile tonight. Superbowl Sunday with GWAR! Wish you were here.

Husky, if you want it, you fucking got it man. You had me laughing so hard I'm fucking crying. Oh God, you are my hero. Stay away from my wife. And my dog.

Oh, and we ain't even close to done yet. Oh hell no.

From: marco Subject: good week From: London Marco Hi there Mr Big Jonny Had a good week here in London; after much reading of your and your friends' sites I finally got a singlespeed together. Used a near brand new 98 Kona lavadome that I got from a pawnbrokers for £200 and added a set of secondhand £10 canondale rigid forks and a singulator and I've got one of the best bikes I've ever ridden and I had a great time out in the storms we were having on Sunday. Also got my 1955 fixed gear road bike running again and I have now resolved that once gear is all I need until I start racing in the Summer. Even then Ill probably ride time trials on the fixed on road and ss off road. Also finally got a handle on Linux this week and got a redhat box networked up. Linux runs on crap hardware and is free, if fiddly. Bit like singlspeeding really. And to top it all off I found over 500 photos of old style big knockers for you and your friends: retroclassics.btinternet.co.uk/Funbag18 through to retroclassics.btinternet.co.uk/Funbag36 (you have to use a little intelligence on each url) Hope you have a good time in AZ. I was starting to wonder about you with all that $tarbuck$ shit so its good to hear you are out of there. keep well marco

I don't even know where to start. I'm stoked to hear you're rockin a single speed. Fuck all that gear shit. And, thanks for the links. I'm diggin it. Hoo Ahh. That's a whole lotta big saggy boobs to look at. My friggin head is spinning over here, whoa. Good night.

Monday, February 4, 2002

busty   I   sylvia saint   I   delicious-women

I'll tell ya, you never miss something till it's gone. Like my sisters 300 channel digital cable and high speed internet connection. No bueno. For some reason, it isn't working and it blows.

I am such an internet junkie. Sad but true. I don't even know what to do with myself without it. Big jonny trainwreck.

Yes, the big man raced Usery. And the big man got his ass dropped. Like a frigging stone, I tell ya.

Of course, I didn't really come down here to get popped, dropped and rolled, but thems the breaks, pardner.

Like my old man likes to tell me, "Tough shit? Chew harder."

I love that guy.

I hung in there for awhile, but no long enough apparently. I just can't climb. The short ones aren't so bad, but the four miles (whatever it is) up Usery were enough to tail me off the back like nobodies business. It was grim.

At least I got high fives from Bensey, Marsha and the Gnome when I came through the feed zone. Bensey even offered to give me a hug. I wish he had a ham sandwich. Or, a cold beer. But, the encouragement was nice.

It's tough riding around in the snow and cold in Idaho, driving all the way down here and getting dropped. But, like my man Snake told me today, "Dude, coming from Northern Idaho down here where everyone is riding balls the wall already. These guys are flying, what did you expect? Don't worry about it."

I know, I know. I'm here to get my ass kicked. But I still walk away feeling like, pretty much, I suck.

In other news, because I'm a viable news source now, the Tour de Heart crit is a well put together event. I would recommend that race to anyone. All put together by one man named Bill. Good work there buddy.

Jonas Carney took the big dog race in a sprint, with Little Green Dave Herbold in second and Big Tex Tallous in third. Talk about a fast finish. It was like watching cars drive by. Them boys is speedy.

You can read the results here.

The Usery Pass race is a hard one to miss too. But, the 7:00 am start time sucks. It's a road closer, traffic control deal. But it still sucks. It's friggin dark and colder than a witches tit. 31 degrees this morning. I did not drive 1400 miles to ride in 31 degree weather.

The elite race is a who's who of all the AZ big boys. All the local and out of town, just here for the winter talent shows to hand out beat downs. Fun to watch. Hard to do.

Ol' Randini took the field sprint for 13th. Maybe. It looked like a field sprint anyway. Coulda been ninth or eleventh, but it wasn't first. I could check, of course, but I'm just not that thorough.

You can read the results here.

And thats about it for now folks.

Sunday, February 3, 2002

hide the night stick   I   little package   I   mason marconi

I raced Saturday for the first time this year. I sucked a mile of cock. I made it for 25 minutes, in a race the was to last for 35. No bueno.

Like my man Big Tex Tallous told me today, "It's good to get that first race under your belt, so you can see where you need to be."

I hear that. Where I need to be is in a strip club getting all shitty. I can handle that. In fact, I could excel in that arena.

I race again today. I'll probably suck another mile of cock. More news at eleven.

Speaking of news, here's what everyone is clamoring over:

The Gnome done went green. No more rumors, it's a done deal. And good for him. I hope he has a great year. I always thought he'd look good in a little red suit with a pointy hat. Maybe holding a shovel, standing by a potted geranium or something. Perfect little addition to any garden.

Randini is not green. He's kinda blue in a rock and role kinda way. If ya know what I'm saying. Same deal, best 'o luck my man.

The Mighty Mitchell is seventeen going on pro dressed up like a candy dish. Or a plate of jelly bellys. You get the idea. Watch for that kid, he's gonna be somebody. I name for the future.

And me, I suck a mile of cock. I'm the clown prince of cat. 4.

From: scott Subject: you missed big joinny, you missed the brr ride what is the the brr ride it's like 22 miles in the iowa cold the temp at start was like 18 or something like, that I pulled a keg the whole way ,the ride starts in perry iowa and goes to rippy iowa, all you do is DRINK ,i'll send pics when i get them., i told every one of drunkcyclist.com. well i'am way drunk and need to go. -stevie the wonder!

Steve, you're all right. You sound about as trashed as I am. Iowa kicks ass, don't let anyone fool ya on that one.

Saturday, February 2, 2002

I am   I   going   I   to hell

Check this out. Good stuff.

I'm doing the Tour de Heart crit today. Or, maybe the crits going to do me. I'm not sure yet.

Let me go take my beating first. Then I'll decide.

Aside from that, I don't have much to say. It'll be my first race of the year. I've been living and training in the frozen wasteland of Northern Idaho, so my legs are great. I don't know how I'll do. I wish it was starting right now.

Fuck it, I'm gonna go play some playstation on my brother in laws giant tv. Just because I can.

Friday, February 1, 2002

erica   I   office girl   I   nikki nova

All I gotta say is God Bless America.

If you want more of that action, and I think that you probably do, click here. I don't know about you, but I like it.

I heard a funny story the other day. Turns out I sold a t-shirt to a guy at Interbike who had never seen the site. I guess he just liked the name, or something. So, the guy goes home and checks it out. Now he doesn't wear the shirt and tells people, "I don't know if I'm comfortable promoting that website."

Fine by me. Have fun in church, bucko.

Here are some nice pics to use as wallpaper. Whick one is my wallpaper right now? This one.

Check out the e-card I got in the mail. Now that's what friends are for.

I went to the local Safeway grocery up here in Scottsdale, to get the usual low budget bike dork stuff. I wasn't really prepared for what transpired. But, I guess I shouldn't have been all that surprised. I am in Scottsdale, after all.

I parked down near the end of the row, as I'm not too concerned with a little walking. Most of these fat fucks could do with a little exercise in their day anyway. But, instead of burning a few calories, they battle it out for that elusive 'close as I can get' spot. At the end of the row nearest the store there are two handicapped spots. Just like you might see in any parking lot, anywhere.

They were both occupied by cars that cost a whole lot more money than I've made in my lifetime. And, of course, neither had handicapped plates.

I got a look at the couple driving one of these cars. They sneered at the world as they picked out a cart and entered the store. I sneered at them. I saw them again in the bakery department. I got what I needed and even managed to say hello to the woman who was working there. Like a person should. You make small talk and wish the people helping you out a nice day. It pretty much a common courtesy.

Not for these rich fucks. The act like they own us. I was treated to a vision of the wealthy shitbag bourgeois landowner beating down his servants just because he could. It was then I realized two things:

One, I'm much better off as a poor as fuck bike racer with a porn site than a rich cock sucker like that guy. And two, I had better hurry up and eat something, because I'm starting to fucking hallucinate.

Amazing the things you can learn in a grocery store.

Here is some reader mail:

From: shift8 Subject: no subject You guys think it's cold up there and think that the snow gets in the way. Try living and riding a bike in Saskatchewan right now, not only is it fucking freezing there's snow and ice covering everything. We won't be able to bring out the bikes for a long time now. Were all in denial right now and are stuck watching video clips and reading about it on your site and other internet sites. Check this out scanpage.boom.ru

Fuck me runnin that link is great. My fave? Without question, this one. It makes a nice background too, take my word on it.

And I'll leave the 'I'm so cold I can't stand it' shit alone awhile. You know, since I'm in Arizona now and all that.