High on life, your wife, and Barny Fife.

Heeeeey maaaan… Happy 4/20 and stuff, but like, four days late.
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It’s only appropriate that I acknowledge the pot smoker’s Christmas almost a week late. For my part, I don’t partake. I’m not just saying that because my parents read this site, but because it’s the truth.
I certainly don’t hold it against someone if that’s what they should want to do, but I prefer the good old Devil’s water as an escape from my reality.
That said I got a bit of reflection on the matter from Dave;
“I was so high once;
that i ate a deep fried gravy burrito with left over (week-old gravy) and a stale tortilla i found in the crisper.
ate a box of 7-11 doughnuts from the trash dumpster
took a shit on the outside of my girlfriends house because i didn’t want her to hear the explosive acoustic of my ass
watched roadie light a military smoke bomb in the same 7-11
built an 8′ tall snow cock in the front yard of my parents house and painted it red
stole an 8 pound ham from king soopers by smuggling it under my arm”

America’s war on drugs should really just focus on Meth and leave marijuana out of the discussion. The worst thing anyone’s ever done while high on pot I suspect was when Dave stole the ham.
In other matters entirely, would you all want to talk abut bike racing for a second? As many of the Black Market readership might know, there was a mountain bicycle machine World Cup race in Pietermaritzburg, South Africa this weekend, and waking up early I was able to catch the entirety of the men’s cross country event. For most people, watching cross county racing is about as dull as it gets, (as proven by the dwindling crowds over that last decade) but I love it. I have very fond memories of attending World Cup events back when we had them in the U.S., and it was always a thrill to see the internationally recognized professional men and women who I only ever saw in magazines.
Then one time, during a particularly ruckus round of heckling born again, and now deceased superstar Steve Larsen with some snacks and pornography (which incidentally is the only time I had ever seen him smile), we wound up in those very same magazines;
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For those keeping score, from left to right that is Ezra Manners (I think), Ben Jacques-Maynes, Stella Carey, Myself, and Loudass.
Anyhow, as an aspiring professional mountain bike machine operator myself, (40 is the new 20), I feel a connection with the often overlooked discipline and am pleased to offer an abbreviated and probably incorrect version of what happened on Saturday morning.
The men’s race really was little more than an extended dirt crit, and at six laps of a five kilometer loop, it paled in comparison to the double lap or point to point races of yesteryear. Even still, the promoters put together and incredibly technical course, which certainly separated those with both skill and strength from those with just the latter.
From the get-go it was anyone’s game between Julian Absalon, Nino Schurter and Jaroslav Kulhavy;
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It went back and fourth between the three, each taking a pull at the front of their substantial break from the chase group consisting of Spaniard José Ramos, Italian Marco Fontana and and Germanian Manuel Fumic (the latter of whom is not pictured here, because I wasn’t quick enough with the screen grab.)
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Finally in the fifth lap, Kulhavy got flicked and a grand battle began being waged between Absalon and the younger Schurter. It was neck and neck until their second to final pass through one of the two rock gardens and Absalon dabbed, giving Schurter a ten second lead into the bell lap;
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Try as he might, he was unable to reel the Swissman in, making up only a second before the checkered flag was in sight, which ultimately resulted in a win for the twenty five year old who some might consider to be a bit of a Thomas Frischknecht protégé;
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Meanwhile back in the chase group, South African favorite Burry Stander narrowly avoided a broken collar bone, or two, or three, in the rock garden, which is why people like me stand around in sections like this;
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Anyway, after all was said and done, I enjoyed my moment at the controls, but time was getting short and I had to break out to go engage in my own brand of rad getting with the recently arrived guest of honor, The Bike Snob;
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Making me promise that I would take it easy on him was the first hint that he was preparing on opening an East Coast sized can of whop ass on my frail body, but his request fell on deaf ears as I took him on an extended and Poison Oak enshrouded loop which he handled with deftness;
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Say what you will about him, but he’s no slouch behind the bars and ultimately took a break to stand around smugly with his arms crossed while enjoying some woods cocktails with our riding partners;
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As The Snob had mentioned recently, he has made a spiritual move to Minneapolis West, which only makes sense, as those in the mecca of peeler clubs also have an affinity for all things with two wheels. Captain Dave from EVIL Cycling turned me onto a group who embodies this love brilliantly;
JENS VOIGT’S ARMY
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From the reference to JFA, to the images of Sir Burton Leon Reynolds The Third, to the KISS Army shield adaptation, the JVA have snuggled up to my heart. Visit early and often.
Finally and in closing, here is a tidy little clip I found of one of my favorite bands (also who it should be noted Geno has repeatedly blamed for his hearing loss. Then again, he blames his appendectomy for his nearly unbearable gas, so his perspective is suspect) playing one of my favorite songs;

I have arranged for this song to be played at my funeral, to which you are all invited. Mark your calendars as it’s scheduled to occur some time between tomorrow and fifty years from now.
See the dead pigs on the highway.
Not enough to feed my soul.
You’ve had your chance now you’ll do it my way.
All the badges go down that hole.
I’m alone in the bucket of a Mach One,
and down inside I know you love me too.
So have a beer with Christ or Hoover.
Twin Earth’s coming down on you.

You see the reason I don’t smoke pot is because MM frontman Dave Wyndorf has smoked more than my fair share, which I’m happy to leave in his capable hands.
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10 thoughts on “High on life, your wife, and Barny Fife.

  1. 1) I believe his name is Nino Schurter with a “T”, not an “L”.
    2)Having seen those guys race in person a few times I can say holy shit are they fast. They go uphill faster than many go down.
    3)In Europe, the XC draws a bigger crowd than the DH and the XC riders make more than the DH’ers
    4)If I am not mistaken Julien Absalon was a junior french national DH champ and then switched to XC
    5)On Sunday Aaron Gwin was the first American to win a World Cup DH race since I think Myles Rockwell did it in 2000. I think that’s worthy cycling news in this country no matter what kind of mountain bicycling you’re into.

  2. Yafro- you are correct, though I had the spelling right at one point in the report. It’s with that that I remind you I prefaced it all with the declaration that I would get it wrong anyway.

  3. After my hypocritical jab about the Levi’s collabo (I was once proud of the Pop Shoppe logo on my BMX jersey), the Arnold pic and the Monster Magnet video have restored my affection for the creator of this blog. Unwittingly my wife captured the psychedelic spirit of this post by hitting the bong while, equally unwittingly, self-caressing her left breast. That served, too, as a pleasant reminder of the erotic poetry of Killdozer: “And the Pope was fondling Ann Margret’s breast.”

  4. Quote rom BikeSnobNYC : “It turns out that Stevil Kinevil is so evil that, when you obscure his eyes, light emanates from his nipples.”
    Man, You are Sooo Rad(tarded) !!!

  5. A couple of questions;
    1. How do you guys get beer into the woods?
    2. We used to be beautiful?
    3. Aren’t waterpit jumps in xc races the raddest fucking things?
    4. Are you ok with the fact that I didn’t know who the world champion was until now?

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