Ego don’t sentio tardus.

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Now while you might be sitting there reading today’s post beneath a cloud of smugness thinking that you have busted me breaking my own new, new year’s resolution, allow me to make an observation.
In this image stolen from the magnet of freaks, not only does the number eight on the young man’s number plate resemble an hourglass, but I believe that these two individuals appear to be connected by the head, which of course would make up the same shape as well. I’m not making fun. I’m simply making an observation.
So there.
Relating to figure eights or hourglasses in no particular way, while spelunking around the interwebbings recently, I came across a feature that Ryan from Go Means Go is producing concerning folks who make stuff with their own two paws.
I was of course taken by the following video about my ace homie Corndog of Dank Bags for a number of reasons. Two of which being that Cory is a sharp fella with a bag fetish that equals my own, and the second being that he is just about one of the sweetest folks you would ever want to meet;

For years Cory has told me of his increasing desire to finally get off the road, and hoping to one day use his bag company as a vehicle to do just that. If you happen to be in the market for some handmade goodness, give him a call and rest easy knowing you are helping out one of the good guys.
You know who else is a good guy?
Me.
At least depending on who you ask. Anyway, if you are one of the straggling few who would side with me in a fire fight, don’t forget that I still have this bad dog simmering in the pot;
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Remember- while the order window is open until April 6th, there’s no sense in delaying. Get your order in now, and you will already be 25% better looking.
Generally, the thing that can take care of at least 2% of the remaining seventy-five is some new tape on the bars with which you handle;
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Perhaps January wasn’t the most opportune time in which to make the switch, especially with wrap so blinding and white, but nothing makes you feel more like Jens Voigt than some new tape.
“What kind of tape” you ask?
Why, Cinelli Gel tape of course. The goods don’t come cheap though. At $26.00 a roll, I was actually shedding tears as I was wrapping, but with my bunged up left hand, it makes all the difference in the world.
With my fancy new 42c Zed that Hurl gifted me in place, I made the most of one of the worst winter days we’ve seen so far this year;
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Oh the humanity.
While this is definitely an upside to living in the place that I do, a downside of course is the fact that I pay exactly one hundred trillion dollars a month in rent. That said, when I see photos like this.. It doesn’t seem to shabby.
Plus, if I didn’t live where I do, I wouldn’t be able to see Skinny Bee take a slug off of Scoutmaster Aaron’s $179.00 bottle of Johnny Walker Blue;
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He puts the ‘ass’ in ‘class’.
Finally in closing, and as usual having nothing to do with anything, Max sent me this link, for a fairly interesting looking documentary;
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Excitedly I forwarded it to my metal loving brethren, one of which was Carlos Alberto Del Castillo Cabeza De Vaca from The Cycling Inquisition.
As usual, his response was one for the books;
“I’m torn. Some of this music is good…. But it’s also just a bunch of bearded fatsos, which makes me cringe. I think I’ve officially reached the point in my life when I just go “ehh….I dont know, it came after the point in time when I stopped paying attention.
I will say this: I saw Kyuss open for Danzig in 1993. That was the time when crazy skinheads would show up to see any and every single band. I remember seeing about two hundred of them seig heiling through both sets. Then a huge fight broke out, and outside the venue police on horses showed up, and someone punched one of the horses, and they got arrested for assaulting an officer. The horse had a very high rank. No joke.”


At this point I would like to draw a connection between conjoined twins, mouthing a bottle of prohibitively expensive fire water, and punching horses. You know.. Conclude today’s post with a clever quip about the three, but I’m not going to. I’m not going to because I can’t, and for that matter maybe I shouldn’t. Sometimes you should leave things to chance… Untethered actions in an unruly existence, because sometimes all we have to hold on to in this big crazy world is chaos.
It’s Friday. Go get the hell out of some rad.
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6 thoughts on “Ego don’t sentio tardus.

  1. Given the choice of riding peanut butter singletrack on the Dirt Bomb, vs. a steady diet of snow shovelling, I’d say you’ve made the right geographical decision. Good thing you’ve got rent control. BTW, I still have one Zed 42c in reserve, and I’m not scared to use it.

  2. I may ride slow as fuck on my cross bike (well, all bikes in general) but I’ve never been able to ride anything but white bar tape on a bike- no matter the season. Dirty white tape just proves you ride the shit out of your bike anyway.

  3. Blue label tastes like burnt plastic to me. Just sayin…
    And I challenge you to use the word “autoschediastical” in a blog at some point during the 2011 calendar year. No, I won’t tell you what it means. It doesn’t matter what it means.

  4. the best thing is all the shit tony from tee pee records caught via saying something akin to how sabbath was totally overdone/overrated; he didn’t mean it the way it was edited but everyone who heard about it got their boots in a snit before they’d even seen him say it.
    hey, you should go to austin for sxsw in march – red fang signed to a new label and is playing some shows…

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