This just in from the Mt. Borah E-Newsletter (that I have not yet opted out of), Glenn Danzig was sighted buying kitty litter while wearing a Mt. Borah "Blaze Camo" jersey, which happens to be this month's Jersey of The Month!
In case you were wondering if the Acting Interim Assistant to The Viscount of Darkness could fall any further, the answer is yes, yes he can.
Glen "with two N's" Danzig was quoted as saying:
"They called the jersey "The Hunter" in the Mt. Borah E-Newsletter that I subscribe to... motherfucker, and I wrote a song once called "The Hunter," so I thought WHOAH! I'm gonna buy that jersey and cut the sleeves off and wear it out to buy kitty litter, um...motherfucker."
All I know is that if I were the not-funny, white Dave Chappelle, I would have a skit on my show called: E! True Hollywood Story: Glenn Danzig.
OK, I know one more thing: there used to be a Youtube video floating around where someone had overdubbed a mumbling, almost Homer Simpson-like voice over the video for Danzig "Mother" and it was fecking hilarious. Now it appears to have been taken down for copyright reasons. If someone could find a way to find that, I would love it.
Oh wait, there is a god...and his name is Uri Halevi. Uri did a "mash up" of that Danzig parody and a video from Highland mountain bike park on his now defunct blog, so at the very least you can hear the audio, do it!
And then somebody PLEASE re-dub it over Danzig Mother.
Since the douche-nozzles at Sony pulled the Danzig Mother-parody off Youtube and poor Glenn hasn't taken enough abuse with the whole kitty litter business recently...
Here's a video of him getting knocked out:
Back in the olden-days of the inner-net it was actually hard to find this video, it was a major accomplishment if you could.
Man, I always think these Saturday posts are going to end up being a video with a caption...no wonder Twitter's 140 character limit causes me so much angst.
Friday, June 11, 2010
It's That Time
Time to hang a bunch of tall boys on the top tube of a Schwinn Varsity, much to the chagrin of the employees of Blanchard's Liquors. They insisted that the beer had to be covered, and they were none too pleased to begin with that the Varsity had been wheeled into the store as a sort of ghastly shopping cart by a deranged man wearing all black clothing and stylish sneakers.
The deranged man was named Gaulzetti. He complained that the Varsity was geometrically flawed (for Gaulzetti's sake, pray these blasphemous words never reach the eyes of The Todd Downs). His argument: The top tube is a touch too short — it won't quite accommodate three six packs of tall boys.
"When you're riding a Schwinn Varsity down Brighton Ave. with three six packs of tall boys hanging on the top tube, every frat boy and hipster wants to be your buddy."
I bet the sweet ti rack on Matt O'Keefe's Seven Cycles cruiser could hold a bunch of tall boys too. I've just always loved this rack. The truth is, I shouldn't even be yammering right now. It's not really time to hang a bunch of tall boys on the top tube of a Schwinn Varsity, it's time for kids bike donations again. I have a box truck out in front of my house with fifty-something colorful, little bikes in it, along with fifty-something colorful little helmets. They are headed to Dorchester EARLY tomorrow AM. I should be sleeping now is what I'm saying.
So ya, EFTA Pinnacle report on Monday, complete with Helmet cam video and interviews of all the major players on cyclingdirt. The Elite field is growing, it's up to about 14 dudes, not bad. Speaking of things growing, thanks to some fancy foot work by my awesome wife, I rallied from a precarious third place in the Breck Epic Blogger grant and I am now solidly back in the lead.
See you Monday, that is if the load in the back of the box truck doesn't shift, causing an avalanche of disproportionately heavy kids bikes to pour out and crush me to death when I go open the door tomorrow morning.
Oh right, and as if that all wasn't enough excitement for you, I have here the much-awaited sequel to yesterday's NEK video. And this one has 60MPH winds and golf ball-sized hail in it. I'm still a little goofy with the editing, tried a little transition from Jane's Addiction (whom I forgot to credit...dur) to Danzig, and the incorporation of still photos. Kind of a trainwreck, see for yourself:
This week I decided to get on my bike in a serious way. My plan was to ride to school (2 hour round-trip) every day. I woke up Monday ready to get right on track. I was running late (I'll tell you why in a minute) I ran out the door, then it happened (I just like using that phrase, it makes whatever I'm about to say sound really exciting, even though it rarely is), I got up to the light at the end of my block, went to take my foot out of my pedal, and...nothing. Well something--my foot pivoted outward without releasing. I eventually managed to wrestle my foot out of the pedal and found that one of my cleat bolts had fallen out. Although I generally loctite my cleat bolts, I'd recently been making some cleat-position changes, it was only a matter of time before I got bit in the ass by my tinkering and fidgeting.
I sped back up the house, scrambled for a bolt in what I often think of as my "box of wonders," (the tool box I bring to races, that always seems to have whatever I, or anyone else happens to need inside, however unlikely.), but no luck. I scoured my work benches and bins and drawers...nothing. I grabbed my old pair of shoes, but the bolt heads were ground down to flats, they weren't coming out without a Dremel and more time than I had available. I was already running so late that it didn't seem like a total cop out to hop in the car and drive to school. So I tore off my clothes (sorry no photos), threw them in a pile, and dug out my car keys.
Of course I hadn't started the car since before M and I left for Mexico. It didn't start. I mean it really didn't start. It's an automatic, there was no clutch-popping potential and calling AAA was still not going to get me to class on time. So back in the house I went. Luckily I remembered that I had another pair of old shoes in the basement, and with some effort I was able to remove a cleat from one of them and install it on my shoe. My normal-person-clothes were thrown in a heap and the heap that was my cycling clothes was replaced onto my body. Then I realized that with all the contortions I'd gone through, there was no way that I'd be able to make it to class anywhere near on time...so I relaxed and had another cup of coffee and read some blogs for a while in my lycra and wool and Goretex.
You wanna know why I was running late? That's OK, I'm going to tell you anyway.
I was running late because I had to fill my ipod. Had to.
Not only did I have to fill it, but I had to fill it with songs of the correct duration and tempo to fit my very dogmatic workout plan. So I laid down some Juana Molina for warm up, then took it up notches gradually from (if you're an audio elitist you might want to cover your eyes now or you will surely be vomiting on your vintage vinyl collection momentarily) Bronski Beat (if you click on one link, this would be it), and Talking Heads. Then I cranked the knob a little further up to C for "The Cult" and D for "Danzig." (OK, if you're going to click on two links, this would be the second one, but if you're not a Danzig fan or a fan of hating Danzig it will be bemusing not amusing). I followed that with some Judas Priest ("Turbo Lover"), Sabbath, The Jesus Lizard, Kyuss, and then cooled it back down with some mellow Zeppelin, and some The Smiths.
That sounded awkward, "and some THE Smiths."
Of course that was just the ride to school, I needed a return mix (remember, this was the essential crap I had to do that caused me to run late. And they wonder why I'm never on time to the work). I warmed it back up, re-heated it, with some Laura Veirs, The Pixies, and The Velvet Underground. Then The Nuge (wicked old school with The Amboy Dukes) stoked the coals, along with Devo, The Dirtbombs, Run D.M.C., The Clash, Van Halen, The Avengers, Soulside, Turbonegro, and finally I turned the ipod all the way up to...however far up it goes when you swirl your finger in a very manly fashion around that dial thing until it virtually bottoms out, with some Amon Amarth (it's what Odin would listen to) and Ministry. And then cooled it all the way back down some chill Guided By Voices tunes and some who else? Gram Parsons.
And...I just spent all the time I'd allotted for writing a brilliant conclusion looking up videos to link to on The You-tubes. But man it was fun.
