#*%!@*&^%$ Audio Blogger is Crap!

I musta sent out 5 or 6 audio-blogs from the road. Nothing! Zip! Zilch! Nada! Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!

So, I guess I'll have to update y'all on the trip this way. It's so .... low tech.

Day 1:

Everyone backs out, except my esrstwhile riding buddy, Rainman (not his real name). Now, we call him rainman for a reason; if he's ridin' - it's rainin'. True to form, we buzzed into Nashville under a heavily pissin' cloud, but started the Trace with a mist in the air and Bar-B-Cutie in our bellies (it's good, but it's not Slick Pig or Moonlight). We saw scads of wild turkey (a good omen) and even a light brown jake; the result of domestic inbreeding. Well, we happened upon a Park Ranger who rides a BMW GS1150 in his other life and he advised us of the nearest town with a motel so we made for Lawrenceburg, TN in a blinding deluge of rain and pitch black night.
We rode about thirty miles to the Lawrenceburg exit off the Natchez Trace Parkway
Happened on a Best Western there and we left our bikes under the check in canopy and the nice lady at the desk gave us the room right beside 'em.
Throughout all this excitement and the joy of the open ride I should have been paying more attention to my riding buddy. We had geared up for the rain in Bowling Green, but ya' just don't much get wet on the Mothership anyway and I was feeling no pain (I'm lovin' my heated grips and the little wing thingies I made to keep the cold air and water away from my feet!), but Rainman has a pair of rainpants with a duct-tape patch on the knee, leaky boots, and these plastic mittens you'd have to see to believe. He got wet. Dog in the creek wet. Drowned rat wet, I'm tellin' ya', and temps were in the low 50's. Poor guy's teeth were chattering, he was wet from the neck down, much longer and I'm thinkin' hypothermia would have set in. Not sure it didn't get a start on him anyway. Hey!, he rides a cruiser; what can you expect? They're just not made for the open road, they're for pretending you're on the open road. However, Rainman always toughs it out and like he says, "That's what makes it an adventure." Truer words were never spoken.

More to come...

I Thought TV Was Already for Morons!

The baybboomers will never recover from the passing of TV as the primary medium of mass communication in this world. They grew up watching the rich neighbors TV 'set' through their picture window, and the wonder of it hasn't left them.

"Gollygeewhiz!, Ethel, ya' just push the button and there's Walter Kronkite right in our very own livin' room! It's a miracle! Get out the good china and pull up that extra chair to the dinette set!"

Attempts have been made to shore it up with web/TV amalgams before. Hopefully, when this one fails they will give it up and settle down to growing their asses and reruns of 60 Minutes and 20/20. Current events y'all!

"The Internet opened a floodgate for young people whose passions are finally being heard, but TV hasn't followed suit. Young adults have a powerful voice, but you can't hear that voice on television ... yet," said Gore

Algore announcing new network targeted at 18-34 yr olds. (Other than MTV)

Reproductive Air-Guitar

Ya’ ever see some guy lost in a fantasy of rock-stardom, left arm held out to his side, his right hand fanning his bellybutton as if it was on fire? He’s having a blast, volume cranked to the stop, head bobbing up and down, making intense funny faces akin to the Starwars Kid in Berserker Attack. This activity, viewed from where he is sitting, is enjoyable, aerobic, emotionally satisfying stress relief. And, Man! Doesn’t he look cool?!

Nope. He looks like the King of Losers asserting his dominion over the rest of the virgin horde. Now, I have given this a lot of thought due to the widely varying expressed opinions of those hereabouts on a very similar activity. Perhaps, there must be something I’m missing…. Nah!

Air-Fucking – or you might refer to it as “dancing”; either way it's ludicrous when performed by the male of the species.

Here’s what I think: All chicks dig it; they enjoy doing it, and seeing it done, by both sexes. A few men do it; they enjoy seeing it done, but only by chicks. This is a familiar paradigm. It is analogous to the ability of each sex to appreciate beauty in the same sex; i.e. women do, men can’t. Pillowbiters are excluded in that, of course.

Disclaimer:
This does not apply to traditional, folk, ballroom or any other such activity where the primary focus is on group social interaction or involves the engagement of higher brain function. So I ain't callin' yer grandpa a sissy.