As a video commenter pointed out, SOPA would make it so things like this wouldn't be available for public consumption and that would be a bummer.

Gif file pinched from The Whore Church.

It's not necessarily a bad day mind you. In fact, it's a good day.. Even a whole series of them, but when you have been living out of boxes and you can find your tanning lotion, and you have spackle under your fingernails and all of your biggest and most feathery pimp hats are in storage, all you want to do is have some semblance of organization in your world.

It's been like that around here, and I'm hoping that in a week's time or so, the dust will have settled and I can get back to business as usual.

Not only am I moving physically, but I'm moving virtually as well, and this whole site is in the process of getting an array reconstructive surgeries. (To call it reconstructive is a bit of a misnomer. It would be like someone with a big nose getting it powdered rather than getting it smallified). The interior of the Black Market store will give you some idea of what's cooking, but until the switch is actually flipped, I have no idea what's ahead.

I might just wind up at the end of the internet.

With all of this being said, I am taking a week's leave of absence (or at least maintaining a sporadic posting schedule) and will be returning for full time duty on Monday the 13th of February (or March 1st. Really, at this point, this month is so screwed up I couldn't tell you what is going on). In that time I will be poking around here and there, and maintaining the AHTBM Facebook page, Flickr page, Tumblr page, Twitter feed, and now the Google Plus page, or perhaps just soothing my frazzled nerves with spontaneous bursts of dancing like Rerun;

I will also make a second, or third, of fourth to final announcement that the order window for The new AHTBM speed suit closes on Monday the sixth of Febuary. That's in two days for those of you without big, or even small wall calendars.

Here is a photo of a number of items from my speed suit ensemble drying on a rack;

Even hanging in a soggy state they look fast, which is more than I can say for the clothing's occupant.

Speaking of soggy occupants, a new episode of Horseshit From a Dirtbag has dropped, and as the kids say, 'it's horrible'.

... Just like the person who wrote it.

In an attempt at offering some fodder that's not impossibly offensive, I have a correspondence from Dennis regarding cyclocross athletic pursuiting;

"Stevil-

D"

Dennis is a good guy who used to be big and round and now he's small and fast.

Though my body and words will be absent, (or maybe not. As I said, everything is in the air at the moment) my heart will be present and filling orders, and mostly returning emails, and probably not answering the phone.

Be good, dear readership.

We will catch you on some kinda flip side.

It seems as if our beloved president has taken a step back into the land of WTF and appointed the former VP of Monsanto, as Senior Advisor to the Commissioner at the FDA.

If this doesn't make your hair fall out due to sheer shock, I've brought Curtis in to break it down into easily digestible bites, which I implore you to take the time to read. I promise when we get though this, we'll get back to blowing stuff up and other fun things;

"Stevil-

-c"

You got all that?

If that weren't enough to make you sit up and pay attention, in protest, Hungary recently destroyed 1000 acres of Monsanto corn crops.

What business does any of of this have being on a bicycle and bicycle parts related website you ask?

Because I think we are all compassionate and thoughtful individuals who not only love the bicycle and share that in common, but we also don't like getting screwed by The Man.

That said, Please sign this petition asking Obama to sever ties with Monsanto.

It's a small step, but hopefully one in the right direction.

Now then... Moving on. If by some chance any one of the Black Market readership might be interested in sending me on a dream vacation, I'd like to go here;

I told you we'd get back to explosions eventually.

On the bike front, Black Market super homies, Ritte Van Vlanderingham got a recent nod over at Wired;

I keep waiting for Lanolin to cite his relationship with the Black Market as one of his greatest inspirations. It looks like I will continue to do that.

As we continue down this road, I've noted a number of times over the course of the last month that the clock is ticking on the latest edition of All Hail The Black Market ride wear.

Febuary sixth is the deadline for getting your order in, and once the door closes, that will be it. I suggest you get on the good foot, and drape yourself in my latest finery. Not that Ms. Demonika needs any assistance in the department of looking good, but the threads certainly don't hurt;

In closing, and to hopefully take some of the edge off of today's post, I offer this shot poached from Can't You Hear Me Knocking?!;

There's not much about that image that doesn't make a person happy.

We can learn a lot from this young man, as well as the unsettling nature of today's post.

As I used to say when captaining the U.S.S. HTATBL, sometimes part of avoiding a bummer life is to face it head on.

(*Note*- This is not my house. You can tell because I don't own a microwave.)

I have magazines, and slides, and piles of the ridiculous, some of which I will present to you now.

Upon opening a large drawing pad, a number of illustrations I've done fell to the floor. These were two I did for the 2002 SSWC shirt and poster;

Then there was one I did for a BIKE Magazine ten year anniversary shirt, and one which was done more recently for an article on doping in the first issue of Paved;

Possibly because I knew the irony that it would one day be saturated with, I also kept an actual test that BIKE did of the then revolutionary Shitbike;

I didn't read the review, but I'm pretty sure no matter what it said, the conclusion was that the bike sucked.

I also found the issue they did on which Big Dave graced the cover;

This was also noteworthy because I think it was the only time a black guy appeared on the cover of any bicycle magazine, ever.

In that same issue was proof of the point I made on Friday that Rick James (R.I.P.) was indeed a fellow disciple of dirt;

Digging deeper I came across the founder and president of The Pretty Boy Modeling Club®, D Squared and his modeling debut;

I think it's safe to assume he wasn't wearing any pants.

I then uncovered piles of oldish punk magazines;

I'm still waiting for some tapes and flyers I traded out of the Flipside classifieds.

Discovering the discoveries continued. Cracking open folders of long since forgotten memories I stumbled upon number plates, race medals, and most importantly, photos of toddlers pouring keg beer;

This young man's name is Tyler, and he's the son of one of the five Amigos (Northern California's premiere orange jump suited one speed team, natch). He began attending one speed camps as a bald little grub of just nine months old.

As I stated elsewhere on the interwebs shortly after scanning this photo, you don't get much more old school than that.

Now at sixteen, he's followed in his dad's footsteps and can be found ripping around California's Gold Country on his own one speed, and making his old man (shown below, enjoying a quiet night of cocktails out with JMac) proud as proud could be;

I found a photo of Ian Marshal and me drinking responsibly and crushing all comers at Schwinn's Sea Otter Classic Sting Ray race in our lord's year of 1999 or there abouts;

At the conclusion of this event I did a powerslide under the team Rav4 and broke a rib.

Always profhessianal, never not.

To the winner goes the spoils, and as we all know, the victor of all of the Singlespeed Mountain Bike World's (and some of the Singlespeed Cyclocross Worlds) walks away with a tattoo. At the event we organized in Downiville in 2000, Robert Ives suggested we mix it up a bit and actually brand the winner.

That year's race was won by Travis Brown and Ms. Stella Carrey. In my bag of archives I came across the scabs Stella carefully peeled off of her inner bicep and taped to an index card;

Historically significant artifacts don't get no historicalier.

Funny thing, when I pulled them out I initially thought they were alphabet soup letters until the smoke cleared and I actually remembered where I was.

I also found one of the only known samples of photographic evidence that I was ever actually employed as a bicycle messenger, shot at the 1996 CMWC;

This of course was back in the dark ages when the CMWC was attended by actual bike messengers, not to mention that this was when there was still such a thing as bicycle messengers;

I found an even older photo of me shot at the Berkeley art museum banks;

Both of these images were clearly shot before the advent of color photography.

Of course pulling all of your treasures out is only half of the process. You then have to carefully pack them;

and then seal and label the boxes for safe storage and transport;

As for the random bits and pieces more recently tucked away in my computer, the lot of you no doubt watched the World's elite men's race this weekend in Koksijde, (Cockside. Hilarious) which looked more like the Belgian National Championships;

I kept switching back and fourth between the French and the Flemish feeds, all the while listening to the song-like qualities of Peter Webber and Greg Keller's commentary;

It was an unbelievable race...

Actually scratch that. It was purely believable as the Belgians absolutely kicked the crap out of everyone else who attended, as most folks expected that they would. Sadly, the one favored to win, Sven Nys didn't emerge victorious, but rather his countryman, Niels Albert held tough with consistent and incredible six to seven minute laps to pull the win and his second rainbow jersey;

Unfortunately my internet connection shit the bed (I believe that's the technical term for what happened) near the end of the bell lap and I wasn't actually able to witness the finish as it occurred.

I'll just have to file my pile of screen shots away in my box of memories.

Though there are many things of both a physical as well as virtual nature I may hoard, it's obvious I have fairly exquisite taste in inventory.

Tell the kids to leave the room. My man makes a very good point. Listen and learn.

(Note- There was 200 views when I wrote this, and now there's 25,000. I guess I missed the scoop.)

You're welcome.

Moving along, Warpath formerly of The Soil Saloon and presently of NYC Velo emailed me a heads up for an upcoming shindig they are hosting;

It promises to be a good time and I hear they won't even mind if you show up wearing your pajamas.

That's actually a lie. I didn't hear that from anyone. I just made it up, but now that it's on the internet it must be true.

On that very same weekend, and continuing on the topic of dirtbag celebrations, Kenny sent along notification that he's involved in his very own;

"Hey master of disaster,

Kenny Kaos"

Who is Kenny kidding? He doesn't have any friends.

While trolling the book of faces recently in an effort to find a mistress, I came across a photo shot by H.J.T. of the Southland's Langtown event that sums up everything that is right with the world;

If ever you need a reminder of exactly which side our bread is buttered, please refer to this image.

Now then, as you may or may not recall, sometime in the last two weeks I cleared out a bunch of emails I had sitting in my inbox, after which I was feeling pretty high on myself. Little did I realize that I had only scratched the surface as I was still uncovering transmissions from the summertime. Case in point is this one from Mike;

"Hey Stevil

MikeH"

In honor of the king, I would one day like to visit his resting place and burn an unwillingly restrained hooker with my crack pipe.

It's a little known fact, but towards the end of Rick James' life he became quite fond of the mountain bicycling. Often times he could be seen wheeling around Marin on his bicycle of the same name, so the guy couldn't have been all bad, right?

Speaking of Christian mountain bikers, after Wednesday's inclusion of the dreadful 'Peloton' trailer, I was inspired to dust off this old chestnut which I had originally posted some time in 2010;

It's like 'Rad' but with mountain bikes, Jesus and a black guy.

Is it because this is a topic I care about, that every bike movie made is the worst thing ever? I've seen lots of movies about art, being drunk, philandering or all three that I love dearly. Why is it that movies revolving around a bicycle as a central theme are always so terrible?

Please let me know. Operators are standing by.

I think today we'll finish up with a pinch of business and I will mention that I have a smattering of smaller sizes of both small and medium AHTBM 'black metal' shirts, as well as a few small Downzig shirts that I am blowing out for ten bucks a piece. I have to make room for some new product, plus I want to carry as few items as possible during the upcoming move I keep jibberjabbering about;

Secondly, I will re-remind anyone who cares that the 2012 AHTBM kit order deadline is quickly approaching with just a week and a half to go.

That's Febuary sixth, so do your worst because after this run, they are done.

If you don't care to look as impossibly dashing as this individual, that's your business;

Demonika makes for a pretty good ready-made model. I would include an image of myself wearing the kit but I'm sworn to including only one gorilla image per post.

It's Friday... Do what you do.

-The Black Sheep.

-Me.

Let us begin at the beginning today and see what pans out. Some time ago I received an email from an individual about assisting in a push to bring the 2014 Cross Nationals to Austin, Texas. It was a petition, or Facebook fan page something like that, but because I have little to no order in my life on the best of days, I almost immediately misplaced it.

Oh.. Wait. No,.. Never mind. I found it.

Anyway, On Tuesday I came across the following list of why Nationals needs to be in Austin;

As far as I'm concerned, one of the only things wrong with Austin is that it's in Texas.

Secondly touting glorious weather for a Nationals race seems to be a little contradictory, but what do I know?

Maybe it's not road riding, but rather cyclocross that is the new golf.

Speaking of cyclocrossing, but with a slight detour, of the many aspects of being a blogger, the most unfortunate is being a blogger.

A very definite perk of filling this dubious title is having been able to both virtually and physically meet numbers of people over the years that I might otherwise not have been able to. One of these folks is a fellow out in New England named Nick Czerula.

Well, it seems old Nick has kept his nose pressed firmly against the grindstone recently as he just released a book of photographs documenting the efforts of a little known frame builder who goes by the name of Richard Sachs;

Nick very kindly sent my very own copy complete with a friendly inscription;

Little did I know that Nick wasn't just a random internet anonymito, but a highly skilled photographer as well;

It should be noted that I don't impress easily, (who am I kidding? I celebrate every time I put my pants on frontwards), but I was more than taken with Nick's efforts and am humbled by his gesture of sending me a copy.

If this is something that you might would like to include in your own personal library, and by all means it should be, alls you gotta do is go here

As we take a small bite from the mail bag, Lucho from Cycling Inquisition got in touch with a heads up regarding a movie that I have nothing but a morbid interest in;

"Sorry if you've seen this already. I guess every generation needs a bad cycling movie to cringe their way through".

Even though there wasn't a fight scene included in the trailer, the fellow declaring "we rode our bikes!" is the quote that makes up for that fact in spades.

I'm sure I'd get goosebumps if I weren't so busy fending off nausea.

In other news, For the last few days I have been going through my things and paring down my possessions in preparation for an upcoming move and have come across a number of treasures.

Like for example a signed letter from a convicted murder;

In hindsight his query about my sister has an entirely new meaning.

Besides moving physical addresses, which as we all know can be a daunting process on the best of days, Master Gary Simms, The Cobra Commander and I have been working feverishly at moving me virtually.

After the last six years of residing on my current platform, All Hail The Black Market is moving to a brand new spot in town. Of course the url will be the same, it will just have a few more bells and whistles as well as a spanky new look.

Needless to say all of this has me figuratively running in a million different directions, with a constant sweaty glaze across my upper lip and a brow so furrowed at times I feel like so;

With my head screwed up crooked, and all of this chaos occurring simultaneously, 'one foot in front of the next' wouldn't be such a tall order, if I knew whether I was coming or going.

Cause it was awesome;

At least I have my denim vest, and I don't know about any of those guys, but I earned mine;

I have a friend named Daniel Wakefield Paisley who lives in Portland and happens to be a pretty brilliant photographer.

As a matter of fact, here is a photo of Daniel wearing the previously mentioned vest at the conclusion of the 1999 SSWC;

Anyhow, as I was saying, over the last decade he has honed his skills behind a camera to a fine point which is illustrated here in his new project Hey Buckshot;

Daniel was Epic® before Rapha® was Epic®.

Another Portlandian called Amanda from the Blam which resides in The Backyard sent out a mass email last week regarding an event in which individuals can compete and win a thing that is coveted by many, donated by some people who have hearts in a color that's close to gold;

"I can't even put into words to describe how excited I am for my next event, but I can try.... STOKED! This Feb 4th at Portland's first indoor MTB park, the Lumberyard, we will be throwing a Super Cross race called "Cross Up". Single speed cross bike will be provided so just show up, race, and win.

:::amanda sundvor"

I do have a blog and I did post this flyer, though I can't say whether or not any going off will occur because of it.

Speaking of blogs, as I mentioned on Thursday, back in the dark ages of my youth, blogs were called 'fanzines' and because they were much harder to make and distribute, and unlike their electronic counterpart, far fewer existed that chronicled the banal details of a middle aged woman's journey across the street, or how to make pancakes from a pancake mix.

This isn't to say that there were no boring fanzines mind you. They were just as self congratulatory, there were just fewer of them.

Anyway, after the immediate rush on issue #0, I was inspired to return to the copy store and get cracking on issue #1;

This one is much better than the first effort due to the fact that not only is it all new content, but this one comes with a centerfold that if you want, you can pull out and tape in your locker or on a dorm room wall.

Seriously, who doesn't love taping things to their dorm room walls?

If you want one, do your worst.

I also am very proud to announce that I just took delivery of a spanking new run of AHTBM Chuey caps, modeled here by the sexy and talented Chlöië;

Mmmm, that Chlöië is a hot tamale.

Needless to say these almost totally match the new kits (the order window for which closes on February 6th, by the way), and are guaranteed to get the top of your head laid, if not your entire body.

There are a number of ways I've tried, but in my experience, a handsome chapeau is the least expensive way to combat emasculation.

I should mention to those who bought one, (as well as apologize as well) that one aspect of editing a fanzine is to sit down the day after it's completed and read it. It is then that you find all the typos, and feel a sense of dismay about how much the thing you spent an entire day on, sucks.

It's offensive, angry, full of profanity and generally nothing like the website, which possibly can be chalked up to the fact that I loathe my printer.

Anyway, there's my disclaimer. I'd offer people their money back if I hadn't already spent it on lunch.

(*The entire run of 'zines were sold out in a matter of hours. Issue #0 is kaput. I credit the promise of an autographed picture. Issue #1 is already in the works.)

As we continue along our way, I recently received a transmission from Kachusha of Chuey Brand letting me know that the new bad ass caps were right on schedule;

More or less anyway, due to the fact that I was hoping to get them by Christmas.

I'll have these in the store directly and you won't even have to worry about sewing them up yourselves, unless you want to and then I'll give you a discount.

Relating to that completely, have I mentioned that I have opened a second order window for the new kits?

I have, and the details for it are as follows;

*NEW* $55.00 for a short sleeved BMX jersey
*NEW* $60.00 for a long sleeved BMX jersey

$70.00 for a short sleeved jersey (club and race raglan)
$65.00 for a vest
$107.00 for a short sleeved skinsuit
$78.00 for a men's or women's short
$88.00 for a men's or women's bib
$90.00 for a long sleeved jersey (club and race raglan)
$90.00 for a jacket
$127.00 for a long sleeved skinsuit
$35.00 for arm warmers (one red, one grey)

Please note that the order deadline for this run is Febuary sixth, so don't get caught sleeping.

As I've said previously, go here, log in, place the order, and get ready to be way more good looking.

In other news, with some frequency folks will send me whatever randomness their heart's desire. Naturally Joe's desire was to send me a black and white photo of a one legged roller skating rope jumper;

It makes perfect sense.

As I dip further into the mail bag, I got a heads up from George;

"Hey Man - check out this link, it's from my wife's sister Ashley, who is part rad, part amazing 80's music dancer, 3 parts tequila slammer, part blonde, part mountain bike clothing visionary and all around bad ass;

eat shit
g"

That George always takes good care of us.

I saw this next bit on The Drunk Cyclist a couple weeks ago, but as it turned out, I actually ended up knowing the individual who penned the letter.

I obviously keep excellent company.

I thought it should get as much traction as possible, on account of because it's bad ass. I have also decided that its author should remain anonymous in order to protect the innocent;

"You tried to pass me while I was passing the FedEx truck, then you all but ran me off the road, fortunately I was able to travel into the church parking lot.

I was riding a bicycle.

You were driving a white Lincoln.

You were less than a quarter mile from home.

Had you slowed for just five seconds and been courteous, kind, and respectful of me and my safety, it would have changed everything.

You did the opposite.

You were in too big of a hurry to be kind and considerate, and you risked my life with no fear to your own just so you could pull into your garage five seconds early.

You have no idea who I am.

I know where you live."

Needless to say, that was a message worth delevering...

I'll tell you one thing I did win... It was the battle of ludditedom. While people were nit picking about 'SOPA' this and 'PIPA' that, I hid away in the sterile and quiet confines of a Copymat and finally got done with the first ever issue of the All Hail The Black Market fanzine;

See, fanzines, or 'zines as they have sometimes been called, is what people used to call blogs, back before glowing naked lady boxes lived in every home.

When I was thirteen I made my first zine called 'Shred Sheet', or 'Street Shredder' or maybe 'Street Shredder Sheet'. Whatever the case, it sucked. Many years later once I was in college I made several issues of a 'zine called 'Get Off My Wagon', which made way for a few more called 'A Beggar's Answer To A Question Posed'.

After a couple years of messengering, and filling sketchbooks while on-call, I came to have nightly access to a Xerox machine (or it could have been a Cannon). It was then that I made a micro-comic called 'OISMFIMA' . I eventually got tired of that and another decade passed before I started doing one called 'Sideshow';

For the last year I've been stewing about how to make a web log based zine, and it was Wednesday morning when I realized I'd been over thinking it. I lifted some old content, made some copies out of some sketchbooks and printed out random samples of clipart.

Voilà, a new member of my mediocre fanzine family was born.

If you are one of fifty five people who would like to get one of these, prepare to be dazzled. I can almost promise I will also include an autographed photo of me, or a sticker, or absolutely nothing at all.

Here is to sticking it to The Man, one Xerox at a time.

We're gonna drink some beer, smoke some pot, snort some coke and then drive... Drive over 55."

If anyone knows the relevance of this image to today's post title, you are old as well as in possession of a brain that contains both awesome and useless information.

Kicking things off, Charlie penned an ode to why his dad is tougher than yours;

"This my dad. He is the gnarliest person I know. If I had this much road rash on my face I would stay on the ground.

I would certainly not a) get up b) get back on my bike at 6:30am in the dark and cold c) ride to work d) unlock all the doors e) turn on all the lights so the kids can go to school. I would lay on the ground and cry like a girl. His modeling career may be on hold for a bit but his ass kicking career is going strong."

Just reading that I found myself curled up on the floor and whimpering. Indeed Charlie is cut from some durable cloth.

On the other end of the spectrum is Yuri, who made contact regarding the contents of his closet;

"Stevil,

Now, go wash out your eyes and have a great Friday!"

The objective here is to help My Alibi gain some traction. Not make anyone within shouting distance go scrambling off into the woods.

While I'm thinking about that particular locale... Last week I went into the post office to deliver an assortment of AHTBM goods into the awaiting hands of the local mail persons, and as I opened my wallet to retrieve their payment, a very sizable and dead tick fell out onto the counter. With my gloved hand, I poked at it and kinda pushed it around the surface while wondering how long he, she or it had been in there.

It was at this moment when I realized that, as far as the woods were concerned, I had been spending just the right amount of time there;

Hey you want to talk about presidential elections?

From my perspective, this is all that needs to be said;

I can only hope he decides to throw his hat into the ring again this year.

And have you ever seen the Cthulhu's hat? It's huge.

If you've been reading this web long for any length of time, you know that I enjoy broaching the topic of politics from time to time. It's an endlessly fascinating subject matter, especially when I get the opportunity to point out when a politician is a hypocritical scumbag, which is almost always.

A good case in point is an article I found recently regarding the SOPA issue.

As it turns out the author of the bill, one US Congressman ("and poor-toupee-color-chooser") Lamar Smith is a dirty copyright violator.

Way to step in it, Lamar. I can only hope that this is the keystone to SOPA's undoing.

In happier news, a crew of heathens descended on my home over the last two days and with them came the orange scourge which has occupied my attention for several weeks;

While some came by mini vans, others arrived by more unconventional means;

Like clowns in a car, we piled into my cramped garage space, taking turns turning wrenches while drinking beer and telling lies;

After tightening the final bolt, and storing all of the goods for the night, we all adjourned inside where we enjoyed a few more nightcaps and readied ourselves for whatever was to come.

The sun rose with a promise for another lovely winter day and soldiers began trickling out of their quarters. Eventually Mr. Blacksocks and Rick Hunter joined the fray and after some time, we rallied and finally got our acts together to get on the road.

Test riding a new bike has always been a little bit of an emotional challenge for me. My OCD takes over and I begin to obsess on every nuance that might be different from my other bike, or where that rattle is coming from or did I remember to close the front QR... Things of that nature. Right out of the gate, and I mean immediately, I felt as if this beaut was as tried and true a steed as any in my quiver.

Granted, Robert (the individual at Ventana Bicycles who built the frame) applied a couple of my measurements to the equation, but by and large, this is the exact same frame you would get should you call them and order one for yourself.

Ask most people and they would tell you that Bianchi had the first production one speed frame when they introduced their B.O.S.S. in 1998, but this would be an untruth. Ventana beat Bianchi to the punch by at least 730 days when they offered their El Toro to a small but enthusiastic audience.

The El Toro Bravo is every bit the bike that the El Toro was (my first proper one speed frame, natch) but with bigger wheels and updated bells and whistles. Robert often refers to the sensation of having a new bicycle in your life as having 'new bike wood', which I suppose should be mentioned that is not specific to a gender. Keeping 'new bike wood' in mind, I would like to say that the El Toro Bravo absolutely has exploded my pants.

Metaphorically speaking.

Anyway, enough of that. Let's look at some photos I took of some rad getting during it's maiden voyage;

I've moved on from black bars and random male genitalia and now concentrate more on asses.

All of which of course concluded thusly;

It was a brilliant weekend with a group of friends who I have known for a combined total equalling considerably more than my entire life, on a bike, the mere thought of which makes me smile;

You can keep your Metallica t-shirt, and your little tiny, baby moustache.

Our Sammy Hagar weekend trumped all.

'Here' of course being where this photo was taken, while 'there' is any one of the points in the distance. Clearly what lies in between is the important part.... Or maybe not.

On December 19th, 2010, I posted a plea for people to come to the aid of Wisconsin's Upper Hixon Forest.

I hoped my plea wouldn't fall on deaf ears regardless of where those ears might be located, and after Wednesday's meeting, and the following transmission of UHF's Facebook page, my fears were put to rest;

"Thank you to all of the Upper Hixon Forest Supporters! Every single person counted! We turned in 4500 signatures, have over 1100 Facebook Supporters, made numerous contacts to the Council, and generated over 100 in attendance last night. At the hearing, a council member stated that he appreciated the positive energy from this initiative! A special thank you to Tim Keneipp for writing the petition and to Marvin Wanders for sharing Upper Hixon on a walk with council members! And, of course, we would like to Thank the Council for making the right decision!"

I'm reasonably sure the AHTBM readership were responsible for at least half of those signatures.

Anyhow, on behalf of all of the folks in that region who depend on that open space for solace and peace of mind, not to mention the animals who call it their home, as well as myself, I want to offer thanks to the folks who rallied.

For those who didn't, I believe you to be lazy.

In news of things of a far less important nature, Wednesday evening Zeke, (pictured here);

notified me that he had spotted one of my decals front and center on the Travel Channel's 'The Layover'.

For those who are unaware, The Layover stars a relatively brash, yet lovable New Yorker named Anthony Bourdain who travels the world and spends a short amount of time in each city he visits, spotlighting what qualities he feels to be the most noteworthy.

It's like an 'Insomniac' for grown ups. Anyway, among the many spots Mr. Bordain visits while in the West Bay is a bar called the Zeitgeist, where as a youth, I spent many hours, and to this day remains the only bar I've ever been 86ed from.

If you'd like to watch the clip, feel free;

If you'd like to see the only part that mattered, that's understandable too;

My fifteen seconds of fame is rapidly ticking down.

Of course you recall the post from that same day and my admission that cute things cut me to the quick?

Tom from Salida, Colorado (this fact will be pertinent in a second) took advantage of that bit of information with the skill and efficiency of a ninja;

"Stevil

Tom"

Sarah McLachlan has got nothing on me;

Dear reader, do you live near Salida? Do you want to give a baby a good home?

I can't believe we have come to this. 'Missed Connections' and 'Lonely Hearts' are sure to be right around the corner.

In news not relating to that in the least, via the Twitter, a different Tom recently notified me that out in Iowa there is a woman named Abbie who is in the process of Launching a line of women's cycling clothing called My Alibi;

(Feeling beautiful on a bike is really all I ever wanted.)

Now knowing the disdain I have for female cyclists as you do, I was hesitant to make any mention of it, but upon further investigation came to realize I know both Abbie and her husband Bill and have on occasion given them both thumbs up for being extremely talented cyclists as well as very nice human beings.

At that point I was torn. Should I help promote My Alibi's Kickstarter page and risk my hard won reputation as a misogynist, or toss the opportunity in the rubbish and possibly damage my relationship with Abbie and Bill?

Obviously I chose the former, but make no mistake- Don't take this as a sign that I'm getting soft.

In other offerings of the internet, Schreiner, pictured here;

Has penned yet another heartbreaking work of staggering genius, which I should remind you is probably not suitable for those with delicate sensibilities or anyone who doesn't like getting EPIC™. (Trademark included to avoid being sued.)

Speaking of Specialized and their various currant litigationings, I will refrain from delving too deeply into the matter due to the fact that I only have a half baked opinion of anything. Besides, The Bike Snob has said that which I am intellectually unable in this recent post. I will say that I have a deep appreciation for my friends who work there, equalled only by my disappointment in matters such as this.

I like to look at the bicycle market as an infinite pie. Everyone who is not riding a bicycle, could be with the encouragement of the industry as a whole. I see Specialized's strangle hold on the existing market share, not to mention holding their dealers over a barrel as unproductive in the short term at best and wholly damaging to the industry and perspective market in the long term, at worst;

You see what I did here? I made an illustrative representation of a pie being choked in a noose. Inspired, right? I'm like an interpretive dancer, but with Photoshop.

I would hope that the adage of 'competition breeding excellence' would prevail, but in terms of Specialized's mode of operation it seems as if the only thing it breeds is continued paychecks for their legal team.

However these current wranglings pan out, (*So far so good. With the exception of 'breach of contract', Specialized has apparently dropped all claims against Volagi) I will continue to love and support my friends who are in the company's employ, as well as my stable of bikes and product conspicuously absent of any giant red Ss.

Alrighty then... There are things to do other than to laze around here. Such as, attending to this;

Nevermind that turd on the left. It was something Geno left in my possession like, three years ago.

The continuation of cleaning the previously referenced and proverbial cracks can wait until later.

Of course a couple would say snorting yards of cocaine off of the backs of moderately priced prostitutes, but by and large, the answer would be cute stuff.

On occasion I might portray myself as a rough-and-tumble individual, but even the most emotionally hardened person has their Kryptonite. Unfortunately for me, Little Brumble found mine;

'Get the hell out of here', I say. That's so I cute I refuse to believe it is real.

Some other individuals that I'd guess were cut from the same cloth, but who would probably gut me from tip to toe rather than look at me are my new friends from The Whore Church. Their site's not family friendly, or safe for work, or terribly politically correct, (then again, the site is called 'The Whore Church') and it sometimes takes forever to load but they love cats and have occasional images like this;

... Which is awesome. Anyway, don't say you weren't warned.

In other parts of the world, Ondine keeps me abreast of other things of an equally grand sort of nature.

While I thought it was clever to change my last name to 'Pornbong', I've been trumped by a fellow who legally changed his name to Beezow Doo-Doo Zopittybop-Bop-Bop.

In this day and age, it truly is impossible to be an innovator.

Because at its core, AHTBM is a bicycle and bicycle parts related website, I will now broach that subject with the following. As I'm in the process of building up a new single speeded and twenty-ninering style of mountain bicycle made by the capable hands at Ventana, I've had to scrape together parts by any means necessary, including, but not exclusive to bartering, begging, borrowing and stealing. One item that I've used on my single speed style of mountain bicycles since their release is the Surly Torsion Bar made by NITTO.

What initially attracted me to these is that I was never able to find a flat bar as wide as most riser bars that were on the market, but with the same degree of sweep. Secondly, no matter how little I care about anything, I absolutely refuse to put bar ends on riser bars, and any one speeder worth their salt knows that bar ends are a key component for a bike of this nature. I would also like to note that I didn't pick that bit of information up on the internet, but rather through fifteen years of my own practical experience and thus is my own opinion.

Strange for someone who maintains a web log, I know.

Thankfully Surly came through and laid a pair on me, shipping it with style;

Furthermore, for the price of a dinner, and my unfaltering adoration, Yafro came through with a frankenfork constructed with all manner of bits and pieces of whatever was available on his work bench;

Whether or not the fork's internals are comprised primarily of hotdogs has yet to be confirmed.

Speaking of Yafro, while in the company of him and two ladies who I have yet to kick out of cycling, we recently suffered through yet another dismal winter's day;

It was horrible.

And it was just a mere forty eight hours later when I once again was found twentey-ninering around the woods when I snapped this photo;

I don't always ride, but when I do, I wear bellbottoms.

Anyway, as I was wheeling about in the woods feeling footloose and fancy free, I ran through a pile of particularly sloppy and wet dog feces which then splattered up my left leg. My happiness when into deficit, and I used the last of my water and patience to wash the offending substance from my front tire.

I then began ruminating on those who leave bags of crap on the side of the trail. "Hmm" I thought. "I don't like that either, but it beats what I am contending with currently." Then only minutes later, as if Dog had mistakenly zapped me with a bolt of misdirected bad karma and needed to make up for it, there on the trail in front of me lay a brand new twenty ninering tube.

Here we have definitive proof that both bad and then good things sometimes happen simultaneously to bad people.

Moving on... Thanks to the lovely and talented Katie, I've been notified that just good things are in store for good people here in my backyard this coming Thursday evening with a fund raiser for Project Bike Trip;

"Hey Stevil,

Katie"

I don't have anything but beer drinking friends.

Secondly, you're still not familiar with Project Bike Trip you say?

Then allow me to fill you in... Or rather, allow the magic of Vimeo to fill you in;

Teaching high school kids how to work on bicycles and the importance of them in one's day to day existence?

I'll drink to that.

Now that's we've touched on hard goods and kids, we will broach the realm of clothing, which all sounds morally questionable.

Sheppard Jones is a bespectacled individual who resides in Kansas City. Of this I am almost sure, unless I'm thinking of someone else, in which case, that can be scratched. One thing of which I am sure is that he sent me the following email;

"Stevil,

Shep"

EVIL has a funny way of worming into the least likely of places.

It's with that, that we arrive at the conclusion of today's post.

Please feel free to insert clever reference to stepping off a cliff, denim schpants or both, here.