In keeping with Wooley’s theme of wondering about stuff on Monday’s, there’s something I’ve always wondered about…chain. Good ole’ tow-chain, tie-down-chain, just chain. The stuffs been around forever. Nothing beats a six foot piece of chain when the need a’rises. Here’s the question: Why is it you always see someone ‘dragging’ a chain?
If anyone can answer that, please enlighten this old fart. It’s always puzzled me. I was puzzled by that chicken or the egg thing for years until I found out it was the ‘rooster’.
Here’s the pictures from the First Annual Salinas Veterans Day Parade. No editing, no nothing. Just the way they were taken. If anything is out of focus just squint and take a shot of JD. You’ll never know the difference.
Anybody remember Barry McGuire? In 1965 he did a song named “Eve of Destruction”. It was one of those radical anti-government protest songs. Some of you gray haired old farts probably remember it. Of course that’s the gray haired guys only. We all know there’s no gray haired woman thanks to Clairol Nice ‘n Easy.
Barry McGuire was in Santa Cruz last weekend. I don’t know why and never found out. I did however listen to a 2-hour bitch & bull session he did on a local AM station. Apparently he still thinks the government is a bunch of morons, which I agree with. The one thing that I got from the 2 hours, besides a caffeine buzz, was that Barry got with the original writer of “Eve of Destruction” P.F. Sloan and they did a updated version to reflect how peaceful we’ve become in the last 40 some years. Its called "Eve 2012". The original from 1965 is on the same page. So if you’ve never heard it you can compare them and then you’ll understand the saying: “The more things change, the more they stay the same”.
In keeping with the somewhat biker theme of this blog, I’ll tell you that Barry did his last movie in 1971 called “Werewolves on Wheels”. Billed as a ‘B’ outlaw biker flick. It’s on You Tube if you want to see it. But be forewarned; alter you state of mind first.
Just in case you’re wondering, that picture up top is the Snoopy band-aid the pretty nurse put on my ass this morning after she gave me a injection of Toradol.
Lets face it; the Country is in the toilet. We all know it, we just don’t want to admit it. I had to drive by that failed gov-ment sponsored solar panel company, Solyndra on Sunday. It sure is a impressive property. To bad it will crumble into dust soon. Nobody will use the plant, there’s no profit to be made manufacturing anything in the States anymore. I’m having a hard time trying to think of anything we make. Our beloved Harley Davidson is no better. I’m sure their corporate folks would sell out their mothers for a profit. Go to your local Dealer and look through all the ‘Genuine Harley Davidson Parts & Merchandise’. See if you can find anything that doesn’t have a sticker that says ‘Made in – insert name of outsourced country here’. They’re just like everyone else; they have assembly plants, not ‘manufacturing’ plants. Very few if any of their parts are made in the USA anymore. Just a damn shame.
Lots of people say that we’ve turned into a service economy. I prefer to think of it as a slave economy. Every other Country owns our ass and we’re just here to serve them when they come to visit and check on their money. Reminds me of the plantation owners of the Old South. Funny how history has a way of repeating itself.
And don’t think that any of those shit for brains morons running for political office will change a thing. There ain’t a damn one of them that wouldn’t sacrifice a virgin on the steps of Town Hall if it would get them re-elected. They’re all about me me me. You you you don’t mean shit to them.
Just my opinion, and you know what they say about opinions…..
Ever wonder if a 94.5-inch long bike will fit in a 61.1-inch midget truck-bed?Turns out it’s kinda’ like the old 10 pounds of shit in a 5 pound bag. After you figure out all the geometry stuff, it does works pretty good for a one-man operation. All you have to do is ignore the legs bending and the thought that the cheap-ass hyd cylinder could blow at any time and it works fine. The truck told me it wants a set of air shocks for its birthday.
Spied three bad-ass looking govment’ helicopters landing at the airport this morning. Really tight formation. No doubt they were military pilots. Probably some 3-letter agency here to bother the street gangs. Them guys drink a lot of coffee. Maybe I’ll run into them so I can have some fun with um’. Ever walk up to a stranger and ask if they’re a FBI agent? Try it sometime.
Well the filthy bike got a new pair of shoes. Fine Italian rubber. A nice shinny pair of them thar’ Pie-rel-ez’z. I run Pirelli’s on my Ironhead with no complaints. But that old bucket of cast-iron is a different ride than a modern computer between your legs. So now I need to figure out what psi I like. If I stuck with the OEM tires I would know that. But changing brands means I’ve got to experiment. The plan is to run Buggie at 38, 41 & 36 psi. See which one corners the best and leave it there. Oh yea, I just named the bike ‘Buggie’. Ran it today at 38 psi but couldn’t tell much. It was so damn windy you had to fight to stay in your lane. Guess I’ll have to repeat that part of the experiment. The work never ends.
Why ‘Buggie’? Well it’s always covered in bugs. I just can’t bring myself to wash it. There’s something about the artistry of Ma’ Nature that Man can’t duplicate. The delicate patterns and designs they make on chrome are not to be fooled with. It’s the way ‘She’ wanted it. It’s not nice to fool with Mother Nature. There’s a reason She had that bug fly into my eye. Don’t know what it is and it pissed me off. But there’s still a reason. Plus it’s a wheeled conveyance used to get from point A to point B. Sometimes it’ll even get you back again. That’s close enough to the definition of a buggie for me. Now I just need to look under the frame and see what sex it is.
The damn thing needs a new pair of shoes again! How does this keep happing? Its called living folks. Like going through a tiny mountain town at 3 AM and scaring the crap out of the young lady stocking the corner store you thought was closed. Not seeing the surveillance camera until after you pissed. Or the young lady in the window stocking the shelves trying to act as if she hadn’t heard the Harleys in the middle of nowhere and desperately trying to avoid eye contact.
Having someone whisper when you’re half asleep that there’s a coyote behind you trying to sniff you like a piece of meat. Hey, the desert’s the coyotes’ house. So I guess it’s his rules.
Being woke up by the Ride Across America bicycle folks at 12:30 AM doing a rider and equipment change with their RV’s. They were nice people and they fed us. So we let them live.
Starting to nod off behind a out of business gas station and noticing a Sheriffs’ car across the street in the shadows that wasn’t there when you parked. He left after about 10 minutes. Guess he hadn’t seen the video from the country store yet.
Riding the last 200 miles of a 1500-mile jaunt in 40-degree temps at 2 in the morning. No such thing as packing to much cold weather gear.
Maybe that’s how the tires keep wearing out. That and a bunch of those yummy 5-hour energy drinks.
So, we have to file federal income tax and state income tax. How about having to file county income tax? With no limit on the amount of the tax. Sound good? Bet you haven’t heard about this one. Wonder why. Kind ‘a like a dirty little surprise waiting for us. Here it is word for word. Anyone that lives in sunny f’ing California might want to read this and start making phone calls or sending e-mail to that a-hole that is supposed to be representing you in the state capitol. BTW it’s set for a hearing on April 27th. ********************************************************************************** SENATE BILL No. 653 Introduced by Senator Steinberg February 18, 2011 An act to add Chapter 3.8 (commencing with Section 7295) to Part 1.7 of Division 2 of the Revenue and Taxation Code, relating to local taxation. legislative counsel’s digest SB 653, as introduced, Steinberg. Local taxation: general authorization. The California Constitution prohibits the Legislature from imposing taxes for local purposes, but allows the Legislature to authorize local governments to impose them. This bill would authorize the board of supervisors of any county or city and county, by ordinance or resolution, to propose to the voters a tax, including, but not limited to, a local personal income tax, a local corporate income tax, and a local sales and use tax. Vote: majority. Appropriation: no. Fiscal committee: no. State-mandated local program: no. The people of the State of California do enact as follows: SECTION 1. Chapter 3.8 (commencing with Section 7295) is added to Part 1.7 of Division 2 of the Revenue and Taxation Code, to read: Chapter 3.8. General Authorization 7295. Notwithstanding any other law, but subject to the limitations of the California Constitution, the board of supervisors of any county or city and county may, by ordinance or resolution approved by the board in compliance with statutory requirements for submitting a tax to the voters, place on the ballot a tax, including, but not limited to, a local personal income tax, a local corporate income tax, and a local sales and use tax, for consideration by the voters. SB 653 — 2 —
Ok Wooley, you asked for it. Here’s the ponytail contest. There’s a catch, of course. There’s only one contestant and that’s me. So I win by default. I’ll take my winnings in cash please.
Heard on the radio this morning that I dude rolled a garbage truck down a 50ft drop-off. He’ll be fine. Broke a few bones but he’ll heal. The report said that he swerved to avoid a animal. That got me thinking about bikes and critters on the road. But first a rant to the guy driving that truck: Don’t get back in it! You don’t belong there. I’ve driven trucks for years. Not much anymore. More darn paperwork than anything else. Not sure if I consider that a career advancement or not. I’d really rather just work on the stuff. Screw the paperwork. But there’s a hard and fast rule in truck driving: You don’t swerve for critters, period. You’ve got two things working against you here. You’re vehicle is top heavy or you may be hauling a trailer. A fast swerve can have very bad results. Slow down if you can, but swerve or lock it up? Never! You can hit a moose or cow with a rig. The worst that will probably happen is the radiator into the engine. That’s a whole lot better than going off the road. Ain’t nothing like a big-ass solid front bumper.
I’ve got a hard and fast rule for my bike also: If it looks like it’ll go under my front bumper, I’m going over it. Bigger than that I’ll try and avoid it. If it is a moose or cow, well I guess that’s when you find out if you’re getting a pitchfork or wings. You’ve got to be very aware of what’s on the roads. We’ve got a butt load of ground squirrels around here. I’ve seen many riders get spooked by the little vermin. It’s not the vermin’s fault; it’s the riders’ fault for riding with their head up their ass and not being aware of their surroundings. When I’m on a back road that’s infested with little varmints I find it easier to keep a eye on them if I turn the tables and hunt them down. Birds gotta’ eat to ya’ know. They love flattened squirrel stakes. You barley feel them squash under your tires.
While we’re on the subject of trucks, everyone that’s ever driven had a favorite. Mine was the one I used for hauling construction equipment. And yes, I built it. The old girl was a 1965 KW W-900. 292 Cummins big cam. 4X4 brownie box with a twin screw rear. 4th overdrive she’d run 85. 1st double-under she’d pull a D8 through a marsh.
Somehow this got away from ponytails. Don’t matter though. I’ve got to go drink coffee and clean off my workbench. Poor Tramp needs some surgery in the morning. Her starters acting up. So we’ll see what $10 part we can replace that will save a $600 dealer repair bill.
The Golden Rule: “He who has the gold, makes the rules”. The rich get richer, the poor get poorer. This is semi-political rant. So if you’re only semi-conscious like I am, it might not make any sense. If you’re un-conscious it’ll make perfect sense. I don’t know weather to laugh or cry over local politics. Every damn city is claiming poverty and needs more taxes. Enter our new Governor; Jerry ‘Moonbeam’ Brown. The head clown. You’ve got to laugh at this shit. It’s one hell of a comedy. Jerry says he want to get rid of all the city ‘redevelopment agencies’. What ever that is. I think it’s a code word for ‘slush fund’. He want to take the funds they have and spend it on whatever states spend money on. The cities don’t like that idea. They figure they can spend it before Moonbeam can get the law passed. Ok, they can’t have that much money stashed without any of us citizens knowing about it. Could they? I’m one of those pricks that reads the city budget. Not that I can do much about it, just like to catch the SOB’s in lies. Does wonders for my blood pressure. Take this little piss-ant, gang infested piece of Calif. I park my bike in. One day they announce they have 19 million in the ‘slush fund’. Hey! That’s a bunch of bread. But that isn’t shit. The next day, they say it’s a mistake and they really have 31 million. WTF? Who had that under their desk? That’s no bookkeeping mistake. So every time one of these local bastards cries poverty I tighten my butt cheeks a little more because I know what’s coming. I need to stop paying attention to this crap, but it’s hard to ignore your pocket being picked constantly. This rain for about the last month hasn’t helped matter much either. June is fast approaching. If things go as planed we should get in a nice ride to AZ. I understand there’s going to be some sort of biker ritual thing going on. Not sure if we’ll be sacrificing any virgins or anything, but at least it should restore part of my sanity. But then again, self-imposed insanity isn’t really a bad thing. It tends to keep people you’d rather not deal with far away from you.
Think I found the perfect way to make a few extra pesos. I’m going to sell grass. ‘Real Calif. Grass’. The way I figure it, I’ve gotta’ mow the grass every two weeks year round, (but it’s still better than having to own a snow shovel), so why not make money off it? I’ll market it as ‘Therapeutic Grass’ for those that live where that awful white stuff shows up for months on end. Every time you find yourself ass deep in snow, take a whiff of ‘Real Calif. Grass’ and curse the Snow Gods. If it smells a little like dog shit, all that means is that you got the ‘primo stuff’ at no extra charge.
OK all you commie pinko bastards out there; the Doc’s got a prescription for what ails you. All you gotta’ do is read it, quite your bitchin’ and get involved.
Got me a box of 50 copies. Bet I could dress like a bum, stand on a street corner and sell them at $5 a pop. Not a bad return on 25 bucks. It may come to that some day, but for now these are give-a-ways.
So here’s the sales pitch: If you respond in the next 10 minutes, I’ll mail one to anybody that wants one. Just e-mail the info. Send a blank, signed check, or a credit card number, and I’ll autograph it. That should up the value by a nickel in about 100 years. I’ll also accept winning lottery tickets or food-stamps. Only 46 left at this insane low price. Keep in mind that if I get in trouble for sending contraband through the mail, I’ll expect bail money.
Most of us have seen this poster from somewhere back in the 70’s. I’ve always liked it because it symbolizes how this country was formed. Weather you’re on the side of the mouse or the bird it doesn’t matter. We had one last great act of defiance against the King and came away with a Country.
Since this is the first day of a new year I wondered what could be my first act of defiance this year. I get into decusions about politics a lot. When we get to the Constitution most people talk crap but get it wrong. I carry a copy at all times. One in my truck, one in the map pocket of my riding jacket. When I take it out and set them straight on the facts, not what somebody told them the facts are, they usually agree and would like to learn more.
So I found a bookstore that was open on New Years Day a few town away, went there and got the copies of the Constitution they had in stock. There’re small and can be kept in the bottom of a saddlebag to be given to folks who think they know something but really don’t know shit.
I consider this act defiant because the government doesn’t want common folk reading such propaganda. I can only lead to no-good and them possibly loosing their cushy job. Plus the purchase of said propaganda puts money into the economy and helps keep private sector jobs. Something else they don’t want.
I’m also sure that the video of me at the cashier was sent to some dark government room someplace. After all, one person buying multiple copies of the U.S. Constitution can only mean one thing: “Damn troublemaker!”