Friday August 29th 2008, 1:23 pm
Yes! Can you smell that change from McCain/Palin? I can! It smells like victory!
No, wait, sorry. Smells like fat bastards from energy companies wetting themselves with glee.
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Change We Can Believe In! Change! CHAAAAAAAAANNNNGGGGEEEE!!!1!
Well, his priapism would probably hurt his ride…
Friday August 29th 2008, 9:04 am
I’ve never done the Malibu Triathlon. Every year, injury and inertia have kept me from signing up. It’s a local race, it’s a good swim, one of the few rare times to ride on PCH without any cars, I know, I know. Let me eat my croissant in peace.
But there’s always been this nagging in the back of my mind, and it is this: David Duchovny. He does Malibu every year, and he does pretty well. He’s never won the thing, but he’s the biggest male celebrity to race solo, and that makes him The Target (that is until last year when Jon Cryer beat Duchovny, thus making Ducky The Target, though I feel a little bad ’cause, hey, he’s Jon Cryer and don’t you just want to give him a hug?). He’s the one to beat.
So, here I am, training, prepping the bike, renting bloody race wheels, all in order to crush Duchovny, and then this happens:
Duchovny enters rehab for sex addiction.
Damn. Next year, Duchovny!
Damn, damn, damn
Thursday August 28th 2008, 11:45 am
I didn’t know Barbara Warren, but I rode past her on Saturday. The ambulances had just arrived, and there were two people on the pavement, one upright and dazed, the other flat on the ground. Both were bloody. I’m assuming she was the one lying down.
Triathlons are supposed to be tough, but there are plenty of ways to mitigate the risks. Choosing a bike course free of traffic and hazards is paramount, and I think the race directors dropped the ball. In between the messy corner where outbound bikes went left across the inbound ones with a lone volunteer trying to stop the more aggro riders (and you assholes know who you are) and the potholed hairpin descent down Toro Canyon (where the crash happened), there was a course begging for trouble. When designing a race, you’ve got to balance toughness and safety, but safety has to win every time.
The current description of the SB bike course calls it “deceptively challenging.” Every time I think about that, I start to get pissed off. Which is why I’m going to stop writing and just keep Barbara Warren’s family in the light.
Courage.
Dan Santat: The Man Who Has Everything
Wednesday August 27th 2008, 1:00 pm
This is my friend, Dan Santat. He lives a charmed life.
You know…
Friday August 08th 2008, 2:48 pm
…I was about to write this big, huffy post about how I can no longer drink my favorite mass-produced beers (Franziskaner, Redhook, Bass, Widmer and Boddington’s) because they’re either owned outright or distributed by Anheuser-Busch/InBev, which is what Hensley & Co (aka Cindy McCain’s company) deals with.
And then I read about South Ossetia and realized that I am a petty, petty asshole.
Count me out
Monday August 04th 2008, 9:08 am
I am not going to watch the Beijing Olympics. I will not have them on our tv at home, period. I will probably go on the Tivo and give everything with “Olympic” in its title three thumbs down. I won’t click on any Olympic news stories, and just might avoid NBC and its sister stations altogether (which will be tough, now that Eureka is back).
This is supremely blowful because I want to see my brother’s friend Amin Nikfar throw shot. I want to see if Dara Torres can kick as much ass now as she did in the ‘84 games. I want to see the cycling and the triathlon and the sheer ferocious beauty of the 100m dash.
But all of that is overshadowed by Beijing’s overwhelming oppression, the IOC’s hypocrisy, and having to listen to Bob fucking Costas drone on and on. That’s just too much bullshit for a man to take just to watch some athletics. So, have fun without me, people. I’ll be in the saddle or the pool or sweating for myself.
I Get Paid For This
Wednesday July 23rd 2008, 1:31 pm
I was going to write a long screed about the movie I just saw for whose marketing we’re trying to pitch, but I’m too nauseated to be coherent. So, allow me to boil it down into easy-to-digest bullet points:
-If you think watching someone be flayed alive is entertaining, you need to check your ass into a psychiatric facility now. I don’t give a damn if you’re the creator or viewer of said content. Get thee to a nuthouse, ’cause you’re fucking crazy.
-If you expect me to try and sell this trash, you’re even crazier.
-But if you intend on recutting this flick so it’s all about the zombie demolition derby, then we can talk.