Motorcycles

10 Mar

I enjoy when a stupid thought seeps into my skull by some kind of unintentional and permanent drug-induced osmosis, and rather than dripping out my facial orifices unresolved and gross, it settles somewhere

 

I wondered what it is about motorized, two-wheeled vehicles makes men band together into somewhat juvenile man-clans.  Now, I’m not speaking of the Hells Angels or groups of these nature.  They all have similar temperaments and interests, namely;  gang beatings and meth. But what I noticed and what initially fueled this quandary was that all motorcyclists feel a connection with one another, and they express that by a subtle thumbs-up given to any passing cyclist (a cyclist with a motor).  When in groups, any people who own a motorcycle will inevitably gravitate to each other and spend the rest of their time in each others’ company talking about their motorcycles.   Here, in Suburbia, I see dozens of different rice-rocket bike gangs populated by 17 year olds; and I’ve seen, seemingly, well-to-do middle-aged men with inocuous names on their denim vests.  What about these things demands group I’m not trying to sound condescending, I honestly don’t know.

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Rojas and Benji: A Goat and a Toad

9 Dec

Deep in the heart of New York’s Adirondack Mountains, a pair of hopeless yet gleeful nomads trekked through the dense vegetation, talking excitedly about hypothetical events and situations they found entertaining.

“Alright, you’re not a goat and I’m not a toad–we’re both crayfish, would you rather be a crayfish with super-powers or a crayfish that single-handedly brought about World Peace?” Asked Rojas as he perched loosely on his partner’s upper neck.

“Why do we have to be crayfish?  I think the question would be the same if I was a goat and you were a toad…”  Benji was experiencing the confusion that seemed to creep in anytime Rojas got bored and vocal.

“Because Crayfish kind of suck, they live under rocks, they get eaten by everything, but if it had Superpowers its life would suck less. You see, its only chance at having a life that doesn’t suck is a life with super powers…”

“Go on.” Said Benji

“I was going to go on…anyways, so you have your one shot at a decent existence as a crayfish with the superpowers, or you could reap no real personal benefit, still live under rocks and look like a bug but drastically improve the World for all those species that already have a life a crayfish could only dream of,” explained Rojas enthusiastically.

“So, you’re saying our lives as a goat and a toad are so fucking sweet now, that superpowers wouldn’t be as enticing an option and thus make your question too easy?” Asked Benji.

“Precisely, “ said Rojas, “I have a seductively long, sticky tongue, you can eat fucking anything, and we’re both the only examples of our species speaking English….thus World Peace would be the obvious choice.”

“But if you were a crayfish, you’d forego World Peace for a super power?” Benji inquired with suddenly legitimate interest.

“I’d certainly consider it.  What has the world done for crayfish?  Show me one statue or sports team or division of military named after crayfish.  Give me one reason why I—as a crayfish—should make the world—which has done so little for me—a better place ,” fired off Rojas.

“I can’t,” conceded the Goat.

“Of course you can’t, crayfish get no respect.  But they would, you bet your fucking ass they would…imagine the looks on human’s faces when they see a flying crayfish …”

Benji tried to look up at the frog sitting on his neck.  It was chewing on his fur in between rants about crayfish. “Two thoughts are coming to mind right off the bat,” sighed Benji, realizing he had been thoroughly sucked into another ridiculous ‘would-you-rather’ conversation.

“And they are?” Croaked Rojas.

“So, everyone knows you’re the crayfish who brought on World Peace, right?” Benji asked.

“Yes, it’s common knowledge,” Rojas replied.

“Then there’s your respect right there.  People are going to worship the mystical creature who brought about World Peace; much moreso than a crayfish that can fly,” Benji explained to his friend.

“A crayfish who can fly and read minds…” interjected the excitable toad.

Benji was exasperated, but didn’t feel like going any further with the conversation.  He knew—of course—that even if the flying crayfish was also a psychic crayfish, that the World Peace crayfish would be much more popular and therefor have a much finer existence which was the crux of the question if Benji could remember correctly.  Wait, thought Benji, had the question been what would be best for the crayfish, or what would you do as a crayfish in that situation?  It had been the latter.

“Are you thinking about what Super Powers you’d pick?” Asked Rojas

“I’d pick World Peace,” muttered the goat nobly.

The two continued plodding through the fallen leaves and clambering over rotting trees; in and out of deep, muddy ravines.  The woods in those parts were primeval.  Some of the oldest rock formations in the World are located in the Adirondacks.  In fact, Benji had just let Rojas hop off his neck so the toad could piss on a rock as old as the moon.

They were both thinking about life as a crayfish when they came upon a stream.  Naturally, Benji lowered once more to allow Rojas to cool off and dampen himself.  They were both eagerly hoping to see a crayfish so that they could interrogate the poor animal in a language it wouldn’t understand.   Regardless as to the creepy water-bugs ability to comprehend their words, the two friends wanted to at least look the little beast square in its beady, black-pearl eyes and get a sense for its inner most misery, hopes and insecurities.

But, alas, the creek was void of noticeable life.  Rojas splashed around briefly but enthusiastically before demanding Benji kneel down so the toad could take its rightful place upon the Goat’s neck.

 

 

 

Huevas de Pescado: Part 1 of 2 (possibly 3)

21 Apr

What did I like the most about Ecuador?  This is a question that, really, no one has asked me.  And for good reason.  I am not a man who naturally keeps close attention to detail; a man who can therefore transport a reader to any destination using only a keypad and his keen memory.  In fact, I forget most of the physical details of any trip rather rapidly. The wallpaper in hostels , the color of the bus I took through the Andes mountains, even epic views I told myself would be life-changing, these things, in terms of appearance and scale are almost entirely lost to me now.  Instead, I remember feelings.  Contentment, confusion and curiosity being the most common and most alliterative, regret and suspicion occasionally jabbing into my consciousness.  I remember my trip to Ecuador mostly in emotions tied loosely to activities and locations, sometimes even smells. I do, honestly, wish I were better at typing out a scene in splendid detail, but I’m not good at it and I do not enjoy trying.   So, sit back, get stressed, and listen to my wicked emotional week in South America.

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Bored at lunch-Proverbs

24 Mar

I had some time during lunch and I haven’t posted anything in a month of Mondays so here’s some fresh nonsense for you to not know exists.  I also take a decidedly negative take on these for some reason. I blame the winter.

“You have to learn to crawl before you learn to walk”–  This is horse shit.  First off, I don’t have to do anything.  Unlike most posers, I’m not bound by society’s–or even physics’–rules.  Secondly, what if I was born without arms?  Shall I just give up on all locomotion altogether since I will never know what it is to crawl?  Can I inch-worm before I walk? Roll? Scoot?  This phrase is as fascist as it is wrong.

“You only live once”- So try to make that life as short as possible?  Technically, I suppose this phrase may be true (according to a few religions and in direct opposition of a few religions) but the insinuated message usually attached to this phrase is to live without fear and if an opportunity arises that may be more dangerous than rewarding, you should take that opportunity anyways…because fucking YOLO.  But if you only live once, should you not cherish it?  Take care of it ant try to extend its existence in this universe as long as possible?  To laugh at those who need to risk losing It in order to appreciate It?

“Two wrongs don’t make a right”-  Right off the bat I’ll give you this scenario;  Tim Wrong and Kelly Simpson meet in college at a frat party.  Tim likes Kelly because she’s breathing and seems not to mind looking at him.  Kelly liked Tim because he was drunk.  They end up getting married.  They are now Tim and Kelly Wrong.  Both being rather dumb and fans of acting without thought, they quickly and frantically conceive a child.  The child ends up being a brilliant and philanthropically inclined billionaire who, as his triumphs in life mount, changes his last name to Right in protest of his stupid father.  Two wrongs just made a right.   I don’t think that was a stretch at all.

“Fortune favors the bold”- I could list thousands of bold decisions that lead to either death, poverty, runny diarrhea or a truly stunning medley of all three. “Fortune occasionally takes pity on the bold,” seems more accurate to me.

“No man is an island”- Says you.

“Never look a gift horse in the mouth”- ‘Gift horse’ is an old timey way of saying Sabre Tooth Tiger….if I’m not mistaken.  Which would actually make this the one proverb that makes a little sense.  But, I looked it up the meaning behind this gem and it actually means don’t ask questions to someone offering you a gift.  How fucked is that?  I ask questions to anyone giving me anything.  Whether it be a gift or a handjob or a quick jab to the gullet, you better believe I’m asking why I’m receiving it, I’m asking for the credit score of the person giving it and I’m asking a series of riddles to ensure they’re wise enough to give me anything.

“If it ain’t broke don’t fix it”- Preventative maintenance, bro-slice! You’re on the fast track to a fiery car wreck with that attitude.  And even not taken so literally, shake shit up once in awhile, raise your standards; maybe decide not to settle on anything that is less than “works well.”  “Not broke,” still leaves tons of room for it to be shitty.  Don’t let shitty be your watermark.  Does ‘shitty watermark’ sound like a pleasant combination of words?  Of course not, do the right thing.

NSA Scandal: Make-Up Your Own Mind…by reading my opinion and agreeing with it.

12 Jun
Listen to Hobbes

Listen to Hobbes

I get it.  Your privacy has been invaded and Orwell’s worst nightmares are coming to fruition.  The government can read all your shit.  All your internet shit.  The country is divided into several parties on the issue.  Those who I am speaking to now–those in hysterics,  those who simply couldn’t give damn if they tried and those who see the invasions as necessary preemptive measures against terrorism.  Continue reading

All Aboard the Oscar Wilde.

7 Jun
Here she is, looking snappy.

Here he is, looking dapper.

Oscar Wilde wrote many things that many people enjoyed.  He is also a large ferry.  Few people know that Oscar Wilde was, and currently is, a ferry.  Okie dokie, enough lighthearted but possibly offensive wordplay  The  Oscar Wilde was the name of the ship that would carry us from Cherbourg, France to Rosslare, Ireland.   While on board this ship, shenanigans abound.  This is a recap of said shenanigans. Continue reading

DeAndre Hopkins or Bust: Follow Up.

22 Apr
Image

This particular hotel bathroom was destroyed by a stubborn dingle-berry and a man living too close to his edge.

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Hopkins or Bust

10 Apr
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April 25, 2013, there was a draft in NYC, tell me where was your spleen?–Crude play on Sublime song

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This is a rant, this is only a rant

5 Apr

wanderlust

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A Rally, My Bills Fans

5 Apr
Pretty much sums up my point

Bills fans put the passion, in compassion.  Don’t really know what I mean by that.

At some point it seems that blind, passionate optimism has been snubbed by the realists and snarks that run football-society.  To believe beyond all accepted factual evidence in success has lost the positive social perception I feel it deserves.  Instead, cynics, with an eye for a potential failure can splatter the internet with their demotivating, hopeless–albeit factually accurate–stories of why and how a team or person will fail.  I am mostly speaking of the Buffalo Bills and the many articles I have read detailing my beloved Bills’ offseason moves–or lack thereof–and potential draft picks. The trendy move is to foresee the failure of an alluring draft pick (Nassib is Fitz 2.0, Barkley comes from USC and nothing good that throws the ball comes from USC, etc.)  or to ignite a premature mutiny against the brand new head coach and his entire staff.   Continue reading

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