34#

Ooh La La

Dial up my number now
Weaving it through the wire
Switch me on
Turn me up
Don't want it Baudelaire
Just glitter lust
Switch me on
Turn me up
I want to touch you
You're just made for love

I need la la la la la la
I need ooh la la la la
I need la la la la la la
I need ooh la la la la

Coils up and round me
Teasing your poetry
Switch me on
Turn me up
Oh child of venus
You're just made for love

I need la la la la la la
I need ooh la la la la
I need la la la la la la
I need ooh la la la la.

You know I walk for days
I wanna waste some time
You wanna be so mean
You know I love to watch
I wanna love some more
It'll never be the same
A broken heel like a heart
I'll never walk again

no!

I need la la la la pa pa
I need ooh la la la la
I need la la la la la la
I need ooh la la la la

by Goldfrapp

Economy Class

You've got to be freakin' kidding me!

So, I'm trying to get a little work done on the flight and the woman in front of me immediately slams her seat back into my lap totally violating my space!

I let out a groan load enough for her man friend to hear and he apologizes but she doesn't adjust back up even the slightest bit.

I try to read but can't concentrate.

Food comes around and I buy, that's right buy, a salad. But, I can't get my mouth over the plastic container to eat it and pieces keep falling in my lap. So, I pick it up and put it under my chin and ever so gracefully shovel it into my mouth. Good thing I got a shot glass full of water to wash it down with though. But hey, I'll just break out my litre of water, the one I always have, oh yeah, no liquids are to be brought on the plane.

I can't concentrate so my book is no good and the table is useless for doing a crossword puzzle.

I'll watch the cartoon Wild, it looks cute. But, the bobblehead in front of me can't seem to hold still. Oh, she lost something. Could be the reading glasses she dropped about half an hour ago. I tried to pick them up but couldn't reach because her seat prevented me from leaning far enough forward. Finally I offer up help, provided she move her seat. She does, and actually leaves it forward for about half an hour.

Ahhhhhh, space.

I curl up against the window and put the iPod on,


my world, stay out....wait, can I get another shot of water?

Still Learning

Phanny has got the whole sleeping in the comfy chair thing down.

She just hasn't figured out what pillows are for yet!

We went to puppy class orientation last night.
Phanny starts next Monday!

Sanctuaire

You want to get away?














This is it. I thought I booked a weekend in a rental on the Russian River. I thought it would be in Guerneville and an easy hour down to San Rafael for the race Saturday.














It was an hour from 101!

Less than 20 miles west of G'ville but on ever shrinking roads. But, it was great.

A secluded two bedroom with great views, a wonderful setting,















room for the dogs to play,

a hot tub, and lots of decks to sit, sun, drink wine, eat dinner, or just veg!

Frankenbike's little Sister

Meet Francis...Frankenbike's little sister.

Since Frank's skeleton was no longer functional I extracted all his usable organs and created Francis. She is younger, lighter, more nimble, and significantly better looking. Which, of course, makes her much more fun to mount. Now we'll just have to see how she performs under pressure.

San Rafael here we come.

Oh, and many, many, many thanks to Gebhard at Cyclepath and Cannondale for providing the customer service that will keep me loyal to both. Yes the bike was crashed and yes Cannondale had no responsibility to do anything to help me get back riding, but they helped out big time because it was the right thing to do and it helped out a cycling enthusiast.

Now I have to go wipe the tear from my eye.

Nature is Cool

Pictures from my backyard.

Sneaky and Cheeky

In case you didn't know it was a big weekend for the MIB, both good and bad.

Da Boss and Taz were in V'mont. They started the rash of problems. Da Boss's bike was crushed by the airlines and he had to go shopping the day before the race to get another and couldn't find the same cherry set-up. But Taz won the prologue and was in yellow.

Then the Delivery Man could not deliver on Saturday. He just had one of those days were it doesn't work out no matter how hard you try. He was out of contention for the Cal Cup. Taz gave up the yellow but was still in contention.

Sunday, Taz broke a spoke while contending for the Yellow.

Tough break.

So on Monday, at the Giro de San Francisco, the remaining MIB felt a little redemption was in order. We had nothing to race for other than the win. My out-laws were there and before the race told one of the guys they saw an all black podium in our future.

We're not greedy...we just want the win. But, they have always been good luck for me so maybe it was my day to get off the front and pull a rabbit out of the hat.

An early break went but got reeled back in. I got off with two others including Giganticus. We worked to get a gap but I didn't think it would stick, we just weren't getting up the hill fast enough, then we weren't working well at all. Slowly ones and twos joined, breaks from the break, I covered, and then we were caught.

About 12 to go the hill was starting to make selections. Down the back, the front of the group slowed and several of us were moving up the right. Spiney and Mad Max were bumping right in front of me, shit this is bad, nope they're leaning in, OK, going to stay up, then I'm on the ground and I hit hard. Mad Max stays up but comes back to check on me...that is how hard I went down...Spine is down, Bubba and Nolan are down. Tiny Spiney takes down three of the biggest guys in the race, Nolan is the only one to get back in.

My seat stay is bent (CAAD5...pictures later today) and helmet is in pieces (maybe that explains the neck pain yesterday), I have a little road rash but nothing broken, I get out of the street. Everyone gets up but Bubba.

Has anyone heard if he is OK?

Great, more bad luck, Mad and I are out. But Delivery, PAB, DeanO, Tofu, and MoneyMan are still in. Disco Geezers are pushing it. Stanley Morgan is working for Billy the Kid. It is getting fast near the end and things are lining up. Bell lap. Around the corner, black, black, white, black, blob.

And crossing the line...
it's ALL BLACK!
A MIB podium sweep.

PAB, DeanO and MiMa do the P/1/2 race.

One lap in XB and I are on the top of the course and hear a bang, tire blew, "two riders down" says the announcer, "One is Safeway and he was on the podium earlier", shit!

He gets up, changes wheels, and gets back in.

He gets cheeky with the pros for another dozen laps but it just isn't going to happen.

Later, after another bad crash and a restart, MiMa is also taken down. He is also OK.

Lots of "accidents", none of us seriously hurt, a podium sweep...oh, and Taz out foxed the sprinters to steal the GREEN jersey in the Green Mountain Stage Race!

She's Small

I talked to the breeder last night.

Two of her brothers weigh 42 and 39 pounds!

I think my Phanny only weighs about 30.

Uhhh....sorry 'bout that

So I'm out riding around "recovering" today and it is noon ride time.

I jump in. Corte Madera route. Never done it.

Big group. Some Webbies, a Disco Geezer, the Hipster, PVs, Maxim, lots of strong guys. Disco gets off the front with a half Webbie. Nobody interested in chasing so I go to the front and try to pull them back. I'm making some headway and get some help but cars keep pulling out in front of us on Tripp and slowing us down. The Webbie gets dropped and I think Disco actually waits for us at the top of Olive Hill. Up guardrail hill then the unknown turn and surprise it is onto Corte Madera Rd.

Starts out with a little climb, then up a little more (I have no idea what to expect so just try to keep pace with the leaders, it was much easier after someone told me my rear brake was rubbing...duhhh) then it gets flat, the hill that is. But, then it goes up again. Finally I feel an acceleration and guys are slaying themselves so I figure this must be the top. Not many went over with us but there were a couple Anons, Webbies, LeMen and Disco. Back down to Portola and regroup at Alpine. Junipero Serra to the sprint short of Page Mill.

I am about 6th in line behind Half Webbie, Porcupine, Disco, Anon, full Webbie. The pace is good but not that high. I see a couple signs as we approach PM. I can't remember where the sprint ends. But, I figure I can make it from here or at least die trying. I start an acceleration and get out in the wind up the right, since we are riding the line, and there is a big bike lane, not too windy, going harder. I am easily overtaking the leaders so I stand and go for it. Just as I do this I am abeam Disco and he pulls out of line hard and takes me all the way to the gravel.


I brake hard and yell,
whooah,
easy,
what the hell....
blah, blah, blah.

He goes for a little
then sits up and
yells something
about his wheel.
He waits for me at the light.

He asks "Hey what's up, you OK"

"Yeah, you just pulled out fast and almost pushed me into the gravel, you didn't even look"

"I didn't see you"

"I hope not, I know you were just trying to get away from the line to keep someone from getting on your wheel"

Apology from me, apology from him a hand shake and a friendly...

"I'm Dylan"

"Hi, I'm Kyle. You're Dylan Casey?"

"Yeah"

We chatted for a while, turned back north together and chatted some more. Man I felt like the stupid group ride whiner. I let the emotion of the moment get to me. He was in front and it was my responsibility to get by him without a collision.

Of course he didn't curb me intentionally.

But it is really cool that I got to ride with a Postie!

Sorry.

Phanny = bigger every day

Art?

The Sausalito Art Show was great and we were good consumers today.

Painted by Mi Young Lee

We got a couple small things as well but you will have to come visit to see them ;)

Inlaws, routers, racing, Safeway in Yellow!

It's day 4 and there was no escape. The first day everyone is tired so sitting around napping and relaxing is encouraged. Day two I mentioned needing some advice on pruning hedges. Four hours later I had a backyard stacked with clippings 4 feet high, 6 feet deep, and 50 feet long. I'm not kidding...I'll take a picture to prove it as soon as I find my camera. Day 3 they had errands and I had a bike with my name all over it. My one hour recovery ride turned into almost a 4 hour sanity ride. But, today there was no escape. Things had to be done. Can we come along?

Uh, yeah of course, I would love the company. And so I was trapped driving, dining, shopping, gallerying, picking up, picking out, etc. Lunch at Max's and a quick trip to the bookstore. Off to some hair salon to pick up some gunk that Mom forgot. A gallery, Peet's, a yarn shop, and Apple store in B-game (they didn't have the router but Standford did). A quick trip to Cyclepath, I left the rents in the car. Popped into Piazza's. Then home to walk and water Phanny.

Off again, to the south this time.I got a great looking hunk of Fred's Sirloin from Schaub's (that's for dinner tomorrow, tonight we had southern fried chicken, biscuits, and gravy), picked up the router, and some chocolate from Swissland. Then an unplanned, but much needed, stop to pick up a mixed case of wine from my favorite shop K&L (we drank the Blason "Vencjar" from Italy tonight:

Giovanni Blason's "Top" wines are two proprietarily named wines "Venc" and "Vencjar"; Vencjar is dialect for the local wild willow plant, whose willowy branches are used to hand tie the vine's fruiting canes. Both of these wines come from a tiny 3.7-acre vineyard planted in 1950. This is a blend of Cabernet Franc, Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot in equal parts that is layered with spicy red fruits, walnut, leather and whose sweet fine grain tannins come together in a supple, richly textured finish.

Gary recommends it and so do I.

Then a trip to the best grocery store in the world (shameless sponsor plug) But I really did shop there.

Tomorrow it is off to an art festival.

I'm just kidding around. My in-laws are great, but I am looking forward to a bike ride tomorrow! Too bad it is going to have to be short and easy and really early in the morning.

Speaking of bike ride. Is anybody watching, reading, listening?
Stage 6: The Team Classification is headed by Discovery Channel, which not only showed its strength on the ascent of La Covatilla, but also demonstrated that it has riders with options for General Classification: Brajkovic, Danielson and Beltrán.

Stage 7: Discovery Channel Team Manager, Johan Bruyneel, expressed his satisfaction at having taken over the race leadership with Janez Brajkovic: “This jersey is very important for us and, sincerely, we are also a little surprised. Brajkovic is offering us glimpses of a great champion. I have only seen details such as those we have seen today on El Morredero when watching the very best riders. I think that our rider is the future of cycling. I thought that riders such as Vinokourov and Valverde would have stood out more on a difficult finish such as we have seen today, but Brajkovic keeps offering us new surprises each day. We can only enjoy the performances he is offering”.


Oh yeah, and Dan Martin is wearing yellow in Vermont after winning the prologue!

ON SHEEP, WOLVES, AND SHEEPDOGS

ON SHEEP, WOLVES, AND SHEEPDOGS
By LTC(RET) Dave Grossman, RANGER,
Ph.D., author of "On Killing."

Honor never grows old, and honor rejoices the heart of age. It does so because honor is, finally, about defending those noble and worthy things that deserve defending, even if it comes at a high cost. In our time, that may mean social disapproval, public scorn, hardship, persecution, or as always, even death itself. The question remains:

What is worth defending?
What is worth dying for?
What is worth living for?

- William J. Bennett - in a lecture to the United States Naval Academy November 24, 1997 One Vietnam veteran, an old retired colonel, once said this to me: "Most of the people in our society are sheep. They are kind, gentle, productive creatures who can only hurt one another by accident."


This is true. Remember, the murder rate is six per 100,000 per year, and the aggravated assault rate is four per 1,000 per year. What this means is that the vast majority of Americans are not inclined to hurt one another. Some estimates say that two million Americans are victims of violent crimes every year, a tragic, staggering number, perhaps an all-time record rate of violent crime. But there are almost 300 million Americans, which means that the odds of being a victim of violent crime is considerably less than one in a hundred on any given year. Furthermore, since many violent crimes are committed by repeat offenders, the actual number of violent citizens is considerably less than two million.

Thus there is a paradox, and we must grasp both ends of the situation: We may well be in the most violent times in history, but violence is still remarkably rare. This is because most citizens are kind, decent people who are not capable of hurting each other, except by accident or under extreme provocation. They are sheep. I mean nothing negative by calling them sheep. To me, it is like the pretty, blue robin's egg. Inside it is soft and gooey but someday it will grow into something wonderful. But the egg cannot survive without its hard blue shell. Police officers, soldiers, and other warriors are like that shell, and someday the civilization they protect will grow into something wonderful. For now, though, they need warriors to protect them from the predators.

"Then there are the wolves," the old war veteran said, "and the wolves feed on the sheep without mercy." Do you believe there are wolves out there who will feed on the flock without mercy? You better believe it. There are evil men in this world and they are capable of evil deeds. The moment you forget that or pretend it is not so, you become a sheep. There is no safety in denial.

"Then there are sheepdogs," he went on, "and I'm a sheepdog. I live to protect the flock and confront the wolf." If you have no capacity for violence then you are a healthy productive citizen, a sheep. If you have a capacity for violence and no empathy for your fellow citizens, then you have defined an aggressive sociopath, a wolf. But what if you have a capacity for violence, and a deep love for your fellow citizens? What do you have then? A sheepdog, a warrior, someone who is walking the hero's path. Someone who can walk into the heart of darkness, into the universal human phobia, and walk out unscathed.

Let me expand on this old soldier's excellent model of the sheep, wolves, and sheepdogs. We know that the sheep live in denial, that is what makes them sheep. They do not want to believe that there is evil in the world. They can accept the fact that fires can happen, which is why they want fire extinguishers, fire sprinklers, fire alarms and fire exits throughout their kids' schools. But many of them are outraged at the idea of putting an armed police officer in their kid's school. Our children are thousands of times more likely to be killed or seriously injured by school violence than fire, but the sheep's only response to the possibility of violence is denial. The idea of someone coming to kill or harm their child is just too hard, and so they chose the path of denial.

The sheep generally do not like the sheepdog. He looks a lot like the wolf. He has fangs and the capacity for violence. The difference, though, is that the sheepdog must not, can not and will not ever harm the sheep. Any sheep dog who intentionally harms the lowliest little lamb will be punished and removed. The world cannot work any other way, at least not in a representative democracy or a republic such as ours. Still, the sheepdog disturbs the sheep. He is a constant reminder that there are wolves in the land. They would prefer that he didn't tell them where to go, or give them traffic tickets, or stand at the ready in our airports, in camouflage fatigues, holding an M-16. The sheep would much rather have the sheepdog cash in his fangs, spray paint himself white, and go, "Baa." Until the wolf shows up. Then the entire flock tries desperately to hide behind o ne lonely sheepdog.

The students, the victims, at Columbine High School were big, tough high school students, and under ordinary circumstances they would not have had the time of day for a police officer. They were not bad kids; they just had nothing to say to a cop. When the school was under attack, however, and SWAT teams were clearing the rooms and hallways, the officers had to physically peel those clinging, sobbing kids off of them. This is how the little lambs feel about their sheepdog when the wolf is at the door.

Look at what happened after September 11, 2001 when the wolf pounded hard on the door. Remember how America, more than ever before, felt differently about their law enforcement officers and military personnel? Remember how many times you heard the word hero? Understand that there is nothing morally superior about being a sheepdog; it is just what you choose to be. Also understand that a sheepdog is a funny critter: He is always sniffing around out on the perimeter, checking the breeze, barking at things that go bump in the night, and yearning for a righteous battle. That is, the young sheepdogs yearn for a righteous battle. The old sheepdogs are a little older and wiser, but they move to the sound of the guns when needed, right along with the young ones.

Here is how the sheep and the sheepdog think differently. The sheep pretend the wolf will never come, but the sheepdog lives for that day. After the attacks on September 11, 2001, most of the sheep, that is, most citizens in America said, "Thank God I wasn't on one of those planes." The sheepdogs, the warriors, said, "Dear God, I wish I could have been on one of those planes. Maybe I could have made a difference." When you are truly transformed into a warrior and have truly invested yourself into "warriorhood", you want to be there. You want to be able to make a difference. There is nothing morally superior about the sheepdog, the warrior, but he does have one real advantage. Only one. And that is that he is able to survive and thrive in an environment that destroys 98 percent of the population.

There was research conducted a few years ago with individuals convicted of violent crimes. These cons were in prison for serious, predatory crimes of violence: assaults, murders and killing law enforcement officers. The vast majority said that they specifically targeted victims by body language: Slumped walk, passive behavior and lack of awareness. They chose their victims like big cats do in Africa, when they select one out of the herd that is least able to protect itself. Some people may be destined to be sheep and others might be genetically primed to be wolves or sheepdogs. But I believe that most people can choose which one they want to be, and I'm proud to say that more and more Americans are choosing to become sheepdogs.

Seven months after the attack on September 11, 2001, Todd Beamer was honored in his hometown of Cranbury, New Jersey. Todd, as you recall, was the man on Flight 93 over Pennsylvania who called on his cell phone to alert an operator from United Airlines about the hijacking. When he learned of the other three passenger planes that had been used as weapons, Todd dropped his phone and uttered the words, "Let's roll," which authorities believe was a signal to the other passengers to confront the terrorist hijackers. In one hour, a transformation occurred among the passengers - athletes, business people and parents. -- from sheep to sheepdogs and together they fought the wolves, ultimately saving an unknown number of lives on the ground.

There is no safety for honest men except by believing all possible evil of evil men. - Edmund Burke- Here is the point I like to emphasize, especially to the thousands of police officers and soldiers I speak to each year. In nature the sheep, real sheep, are born as sheep. Sheepdogs are born that way, and so are wolves. They didn't have a choice. But you are not a critter. As a human being, you can be whatever you want to be. It is a conscious, moral decision. If you want to be a sheep, then you can be a sheep and that is okay, but you must understand the price you pay. When the wolf comes, you and your loved ones are going to die if there is not a sheepdog there to protect you. If you want to be a wolf, you can be one, but the sheepdogs are going to hunt you down and you will never have rest, safety, trust or love. But if you want to be a sheepdog and walk the warrior's path, then you must m ake a conscious and moral decision every day to dedicate, equip and prepare yourself to thrive in that toxic, corrosive moment when the wolf comes knocking at the door.

For example, many police officers carry their weapons in church. They are well concealed in ankle holsters, shoulder holsters or inside-the-belt holsters tucked into the small of their backs. Anytime you go to some form of religious service, there is a very good chance that a police officer in your congregation is carrying a weapon. You will never know if there is such an individual in your place of worship, until the wolf appears to massacre you and your loved ones.

I was training a group of police officers in Texas, and during the break, one officer asked his friend if he carried his weapon in church. The other cop replied, "I will never be caught without my gun in church." I asked why he felt so strongly about this, and he told me about a cop he knew who was at a church massacre in Ft. Worth, Texas in 1999. In that incident, a mentally deranged individual came into the church and opened fire, gunning down fourteen people. He said that officer believed he could have saved every life that day if he had been carrying his gun. His own son was shot, and all he could do was throw himself on the boy's body and wait to die. That cop looked me in the eye and said, "Do you have any idea how hard it would be to live with yourself after that?"

Some individuals would be horrified if they knew this police officer was carrying a weapon in church. They might call him paranoid and would probably scorn him. Yet these same individuals would be enraged and would call for "heads to roll" if they found out that the airbags in their cars were defective, or that the fire extinguisher and fire sprinklers in their kids' school did not work. They can accept the fact that fires and traffic accidents can happen and that there must be safeguards against them. Their only response to the wolf, though, is denial, and all too often their response to the sheepdog is scorn and disdain. But the sheepdog quietly asks himself, "Do you have any idea how hard it would be to live with yourself if your loved ones were attacked and killed, and you had to stand there helplessly because you were unprepared for that day?"

It is denial that turns people into sheep. Sheep are psychologically destroyed by combat because their only defense is denial, which is counterproductive and destructive, resulting in fear, helplessness and horror when the wolf shows up. Denial kills you twice. It kills you once, at your moment of truth when you are not physically prepared: you didn't bring your gun, you didn't train. Your only defense was wishful thinking... Hope is not a strategy. Denial kills you a second time because even if you do physically survive, you are psychologically shattered by your fear, helplessness and horror at your moment of truth.

Gavin de Becker puts it like this in "Fear Less", his superb post-9/11 book, which should be required reading for anyone trying to come to terms with our current world situation: "...denial can be seductive, but it has an insidious side effect. For all the peace of mind deniers think they get by saying it isn't so, the fall they take when faced with new violence is all the more unsettling." Denial is a save-now-pay-later scheme, a contract written entirely in small print, for in the long run, the denying person knows the truth on some level. And so the warrior must strive to confront denial in all aspects of his life, and prepare himself for the day when evil comes. If you are warrior who is legally authorized to carry a weapon and you step outside without that weapon, then you become a sheep, pretending that the bad man will not come today. No one c an be "on" 24/7, for a lifetime. Everyone needs down time. But if you are authorized to carry a weapon, and you walk outside without it, just take a deep breath, and say this to yourself..."Baa."

This business of being a sheep or a sheep dog is not a yes-no dichotomy. It is not an all-or-nothing, either-or choice. It is a matter of degrees, a continuum. On one end is an abject, head-in-the-sand-sheep and on the other end is the ultimate warrior. Few people exist completely on one end or the other. Most of us live somewhere in between. Since 9-11 almost everyone in America took a step up that continuum, away from denial. The sheep took a few steps toward accepting and appreciating their warriors, and the warriors started taking their job more seriously. The degree to which you move up that continuum, away from "sheephood" and denial, is the degree to which you and your loved ones will survive, physically and psychologically at your moment of truth.

Frankenbike

It's alive....

Frame was dug up from its grave. It had been set aside awaiting insurance decision post crash. I thought it was trashed, you know, aluminum frame/carbon fork, 30 mph impact with stationary object while carrying 195 pound rider.

Bad...very bad.

A thorough inspection did find the fork bent so I guess it took the brunt of the impact. It probably helped that I released the bike at impact and accepted my fate to go over the hood with vigor and a calm coolness as if a Hollywood designed stunt. I was not so cool when I arose from the tarmac with shoulder dislocated and helmet cracked, and yet no road rash.

Anyway, back to the story. Needed a new fork. Well, the Fuji fork is in theory OK, only the frame is bad (still awaiting a call from warrantee). Rake looked about the same, though hard to tell since the Slice fork was bent. Fit nicely. A little shorter stem since the frame is a 58 vice 56. DA cranks to replace the FSA cranks that have been sent to warrantee. Oh yeah, hee hee hee, new wheels, Ksyrium ESs. Loved my original pair of Ksyrium SSLs and they served me well for years. But, they have been acting up and need a complete rebuild (which they will get and return as training/spares...or maybe CX?). The new Mavics are very nice. Strong, light, durable, reliable.

So, Frankenbike will make its debut this weekend, provided I shake my sickness. I picked up that hack from my wife after resisting her for three weeks! She finally wore me down. This AM I awoke stuffed up. Lots of H2O and OJ today.

I am racing this weekend even if I have to take a couple Tylenol Sinus on the start line and put Robitussin in my water bottles! Don't tell Dmitriy, shhhhhhh.

Look How Big My Phanny Is

Yeah, that is really never going to get old!

Before and after...they look a little more like friends now don't they?
Tucker has turned out to be a great big brother!

It's Alive

You all know my second Fuji died.

You might remember me talking about the Cannondale I was riding when a car pulled out in front of me. I t-boned it doing 30mph.

The Calfee, a great ride, but not stiff enough. Flexed the frame in a sprint so much the chain fell off the outside of the 53...twice.

So, I have created Frankenbike...ha, ha, ha....it's alive!

Inconvenient Hypocrisy

So, I went to see the movie. I was moved. I will do my best to change. The scientific evidence is indisputable. But, when I read things like this...it makes me wonder how bad is it really? Maybe it is time for Al to put his money where his mouth is?

The world must embrace a "carbon-neutral lifestyle." To do otherwise, he says, will result in a cataclysmic catastrophe. "Humanity is sitting on a ticking time bomb," warns the website for his film, An Inconvenient Truth. "We have just 10 years to avert a major catastrophe that could send our entire planet into a tailspin."

Public records reveal that as Gore lectures Americans on excessive consumption, he and his wife Tipper live in two properties: a 10,000-square-foot, 20-room, eight-bathroom home in Nashville, and a 4,000-square-foot home in Arlington, Va. (He also has a third home in Carthage,Tenn.)

Then there is the troubling matter of his energy use. In the Washington, D.C., area, utility companies offer wind energy as an alternative to traditional energy. In Nashville, similar programs exist. Utility customers must simply pay a few extra pennies per kilowatt hour, and they can continue living their carbon-neutral lifestyles knowing that they are supporting wind energy.

But according to public records, there is no evidence that Gore has signed up to use green energy in either of his large residences. When contacted Wednesday, Gore's office confirmed as much but said the Gores were looking into making the switch at both homes.

As executor of his family's trust, over the years Gore has controlled hundreds of thousands of dollars in Oxy stock. Oxy has been mired in controversy over oil drilling in ecologically sensitive areas.

Gore receives $20,000 a year in royalties from Pasminco Zinc, which operates a zinc concession on his property. Tennessee has cited the company for adding large quantities of barium, iron and zinc to the nearby Caney Fork River.

The issue here is not simply Gore's hypocrisy; it's a question of credibility. If he genuinely believes the apocalyptic vision he has put forth and calls for radical changes in the way other people live, why hasn't he made any radical change in his life? Giving up the zinc mine or one of his homes is not asking much, given that he wants the rest of us to radically change our lives.

Al, you made me a believer. Now convince me that you are!

Coffee Snob? Who Me?

Nearly all of the coffee out there is stale. The good news is that stale coffee is drinkable if you've never had truly fresh coffee. The bad news is that once you've tasted truly fresh coffee, you'll be forever hooked. It will make you giddy every time you go to make a pot. Tingle right down to your toes. Reverberate around your head like a funky aura. That's because coffee, just a few days out of the roaster, is nature's most flavorful drink - more complex than even wine - containing well over 900 flavor compounds to dance on your taste buds. But after a few weeks, you'd be lucky to see half that number.

How do you know if coffee is stale? Simple test: If it's bitter or flat, it's too late. Coffee is actually known by connoisseurs as a 'sweet' beverage. But shush... you're not supposed to know that. And who doesn't want you to know? Coffee companies who make their living on convenience. And yes, believing that freshness is as simple as 'burping' air out of a coffee container, is convenient. Truly fresh coffee is a pain because you have to order it frequently.

I knew it! Giddy, tingle, reverberate...and you thought it was just the caffeine

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Hillary's "Presidential Busts?"

A "presidential bust" of Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton was unveiled Wednesday at New York's Museum of Sex, where sculptor Daniel Edwards hopes it will spark discussion about sex, politics and celebrity.

Edwards said his work features a soft "presidential smile" and wrinkles
framing her eyes. A floral pattern runs across her breasts, part of Edwards'
effort to present Clinton "as a woman — not a covered-up person, but as a
woman."
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"I didn't want to give
her a face lift or change her age," he said of his work.

"The key was to reveal her chest a little bit. She usually covers herself up,
but I don't think that's necessary."

Please re-veil it....please!


On a lighter note...

Another New York Times piece notes how Sen. Hillary Clinton's first major day of campaigning for re-election was dominated by the news of Lieberman's primary loss. "'I think there is a great deal of difference,'' Mrs. Clinton told reporters ... after being asked to distinguish her position on the Iraq war from Mr. Lieberman's. 'I have been a consistent critic from the beginning,''

But....not until after she supported it.

To the disappointment of some antiwar liberals in her Democratic base, Clinton, the former first lady, voted in favor of the Iraq war resolution in October 2002.

Things that make you say hmmmmm.....

Signs, signs....

I meant to post this last week but forgot....but, yesterday while I was riding several of the songs played again and reminded me.

So, a day of climbing. Went a little hard the day before but, I was by myself and I was in no hurry. Supposed to go up Page Mill with HR above 90%.

That shouldn't be hard....right? I can ride a 60 minute crit at 90%. Somehow, though, it is much more difficult to go that hard that long without the motivation of a race or the adrenaline from the dueling in the pack.

Warm-up on the way. Legs not feeling great. Damn, forgot to change the cassette...11-23 for Page Mill, not ideal and certainly won't be able to "spin" up.

I got to the first hills and just didn't feel good. I started making all kinds of excuses and was pondering thoughts of going back down and just doing a flat ride along Foothill Expy (even kidded myself about doing some intervals).

Then, The Red Hot Chili Peppers' Aeroplane started playing....do you know it?

I like pleasure spiked with pain and music is my aeroplane,
It's my aeroplane,
Songbird sweet and sour Jane and music is my aeroplane,
It's my aeroplane
pleasure spiked with pain,
that motherfuckers always spiked with pain.

Looking in my own eyes (hey lord),
I can't find the love I want,
Someone better slap me,
Before I start to rust,
Before I start to decompose,
Looking in my rear view mirror,
Looking in my rear view mirror,
I can make it disappear,
I can make it disappear (have no fear)

I had to keep going!

Then Seal, Bring It On started

Bring it on
At first I didn't have the will to carry on
Illusions in my mind
Like that picture when you feel you can't go on
Like you've been left behind
Life goes on, now
Take me to that funky place where you and I were born.
Carry on, now
Psychedlic tendencies of love will bring it on
Bring it on
Bring it on, Bring it on
Don't wait until tomorrow

Then Bush's Machinehead

Breathe in, breathe out
Breathe in, breathe out
Breathe in

Breathe in, breathe out
Breathe in, breathe out
Breathe in

Tied to a wheel, our fingers got to feel
Bleeding through a tourniquet smile
Spinning on a whim, a slide to the right
I felt you like electric light
For our love
For our fear
For our rise against the years and years and years

You get the picture...

So, I made it to the top, maybe not as fast as I would have liked and maybe not at 90% HR....but, I didn't quit!

And guess what song started as I turned the corner onto Skyline?

It's a beautiful day, the sky falls
And you feel like it's a beautiful day
It’s a beautiful day
Don’t let it get away

You’re on the road but you’ve got no destination
You’re in the mud, in the maze of her imagination
You love this town even if that doesn’t ring true
You’ve been all over and it’s been all over you

It's a beautiful day
Don’t let it get away
It's a beautiful day

Isn't it great how music can motivate you and take your mind to a place so you can ignore the pain coursing through your body!

Fruit, fruit, good for the heart...

So, we've got these fruit trees in our yard. They are loaded with fruit. We have red plums and yellow plums. They are actually very good. I have never before picked fruit directly off a tree and eaten it.

But, who needs 10 plum trees?

The dogs, unfortunately have also discovered the delicious sweet red and yellow fruits. Some of the branches were so full they could no longer support their own weight and touched the ground. So, Phanny was able to eat fresh fruit, picked directly off the tree as well.

It was time to do something. I cut three huge branches off the trees. And then I picked the fruit that looked like it would be touching each other after fully grown. And I picked, and picked, and picked, got a ladder and picked, climbed into one tree and picked.

I filled this trash can FOUR times with plums and still didn't get it all. At first I picked and dropped in the can. Too hard. So, I just picked and dropped on the ground to be picked up when I finished.

I swear the dogs thought they were in heaven. They sat at the bottom of the hill, let the fruit roll down to them, and ate as quickly as they could. I think they got their fill though because both stopped and took a nap.

You know what happens when you eat too many plums...imagine that for two dogs. Oh boy am I in trouble if Phanny (the Phantom Menace) keeps eating plums even after she grows to 120lbs.