Of Corn & Carbon: Happy Thanksgiving Weekend

Firstly, I am ambivalent to announce that Tom Mosher has decided to host yet another Hell Track event.  Watching the videos of previous Hell Tracks, one would think that Hell Track 3 will be riveting and unforgettable.  However, for those uncertain whether to imbibe this instance of 'bicycle culture', allow me to summarize the event in advance for your convenience.

The event is patterned upon the Official Toronto Hipster Cycling Event template:

Pre-party:  Authentic real-live messengers will congregate, drink beer, and make fun of each other while begging off racing on the grounds that they can't get injured because they have to work.  Their authentic real-live hipster attendants will circumscribe the nucleus of messengers in a desperate attempt to fit in and rub shoulders.  Tom Mosher will spend the entire time talking to his friends and ignoring the attendants.  Trick riders will attempt ad infinitum to execute various manoevres without success.  Holding your breath here in anticipation of seeing something awesome means certain death. 

Race:  The racing will be so lame that some imbecile who doesn't have to work the next day will attempt unnecessarily theatrical maneouvres under the auspices of 'epic-ry'.  This will make the race seem epic by association.  Do not be fooled.

Post-race: Prizes are assigned.  Given the poor organizational skills and levels of inebriation, this portion of the event is tediously drawn out.

The whole event will be like taking a poop after eating corn: You'll stand there and think "Is that it ...or is there more?"

Speaking of stool passage, I am equally ambivalent to announce that the dieting fad of colonics has reached bicycle frame design.  Felt's frame designers have data-mined the age-old technique of wrapping toilet-paper around a cardboard tube to develop their InsideOut Internally Optimized Molding technology, which enables them to shave off precious ounces of manufacturing dross that "is stuck to the frame walls like spackle or paste."  As Felt engineer Ty Buckenberger puts it:

“The bottom bracket and other junctions are all nice and clean with no excess material inside.”

Snickering aside, Felt seems to have truly pushed the boundaries in their work.  With their InsideOut method, Felt can now eschew the lug-&-tube technology of last century's carbon frames (no, that's not a typo) in favour of molds that shape the carbon sheets and minimizes excess material build-up internally.  The assembly culminates thusly:

"Finally, the frame sections are joined using a special co-molding technique. The individual sections are bonded together and then co-wrapped."

An internally optimized toilet paper roll demonstrates Felt's wrapping technique.

In other words, lug-&-tube redux.  Such advancement!  However, Felt assures us that process is worthwhile because it delivers a frame that--wait for it...--offers unparalleled ride quality and weight savings, but at great cost.  As an amateur performance cycling enthusiast on a budget (read, 'that wheel sucking ass with a Sora gruppo'), I'm not able to make such significant investment, so when I want to improve my own ride quality and shave off precious grams, I prefer to employ my patented system of taking a pre-race poop.  The weight savings are astounding!


With that 'out of my system', I am also ambivalent to announce that I will not be blogging on Monday due to prior engagements with a turkey.  I do not mean that I have a dinner date with Rob Ford (though that probably would be a very effective weight-loss strategy).  Rather, I will be preoccupied attempting the unnecessarily theatrical maneouvre of ingesting fowlry for processing in a prostate prostrate position.

Unfortunately I must, by medical necessity, lay down prior to gorging on turkey, unlike others, who prefer to repose after the fact.  Being a misshapen oaf prone to nervous gas and suffering an irrational fear of pacifiers, I was once attacked with a turkey baster and exposed to a near fatal dose of tryptophan.  Ever since, even the mildest amount of trytpo-laced turkey can induce narcoleptic fits of deep slumber.  Four Thanksgivings ago, I plopped face-down in mash potatoes and nearly drowned.

It is my own personal epic sport and I like to tempt fate and push the extreme.  Last year, I conquered a leg.  This year, I hope to tackle the breast.  Next year's summit: dark meat!

If I live, I will resume posting on Wednesday.  Until then, thanks for reading and have a 'fully crunk' weekend.

Good Ideas: Do Not Share Them

In every life, each and every one must face the time of passing.  For some, it is sudden, even tragically accidental.  For others, it is slow in coming.  Some face it with great fear; others with great acceptance.  The latter often have achieved a sense of closure and accomplishment.  They understand that it is time.

I refer of course to passing stool.  That is, taking a poop.

Some, at the time of passing, need to pass the time.  I, however, eat a lot of fibre, and so do not need to take a tome to the toilet.  Instead, I imbibe micro text apropos to the time being passed.  Typically this entails re-reading the directions on a condom I received years ago, but for which I have sadly never found a use.  Other times I simply read my Twitter feed.  Twitter, like all feed, is a continual source of nourishment; sometimes it even comes with a surprise buried in its cereal-like goodness.  However, yesterday, I was just plain shocked to read Toronto Cyclist Union's publicist Yvonne Bambrick's endorsement of a rant passed by soured EYE WEEKLY editor, Edward Keenan:

Knowing that Bambrick, like most riders of Dutch bikes, is too concerned about her good looks to dare ruin them with a helmet, I was unsurprised by her opposal to any encouragement to wear one.  I was, however, rather taken aback to read that others should henceforth "shut the fuck up."

Certainly, an old-school hip hop reference would have been more effective:

I guess I was naive to think that someone who brays incessantly--and without provocation--that she's a trained professional publicist would know better than to lash out so viscerally, especially at someone encouraging others to employ what is known in the common tongue as a 'Good Idea'.  Imagine the Toronto Cyclist Union lashing out at someone for suggesting that fenders are a good idea because they protect the rider from road spray? 

The absurdity is palpable: this same woman insists that sensible cycling necessitates a host of accessorial appliqués, such as a chain case, skirt guard, and fenders.  Each component is meant to protect the rider from threats vague and trivial.  But wear a helmet?  Ne'er!!

Perplexed by such gross inconsistency (and the subsequent discord of priorities...), I posed a question to Toronto's twits that I felt justified an answer:

However, being a socially-ostracized clod with complex odour issues and an uncontrollable nervous reflex to bark at shoelaces, I was shunned by my betters.  I am undeterred, however, and though our leaders may provide a poor example, I would like to issue, in their place, the following Public Service Announcement:

Coming soon as a frame sticker near you.  If you want one, details will follow in the coming weeks.