A bit of fun

I just went to the Mafia Name Generator and returned with a newly-minted mafioso name - Shoot 'Em Up Tony! I love it!

And I suspect that Tony will be moving to Broken Elbow soon, perhaps in the witness protection program.

The wit and wisdom of Dr. Wally Crankset

Wally and I were at the bar in Larry's Cafe one night recently. We'd been there long enough that Larry had to field two calls from She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed, who was wondering where we could be found. Larry can tell tall tales with the best of them, but he's a terrible liar. She-Who-etc. knew we were there and she grilled him mercilessly during that second call.

"Um, I'll have to shut you guys off after this one," he said. "I'm sorry, but that's the way it is."

Wally and I understood. The part he was leaving out was the threat she'd made to call his wife and give her an earful too. Larry's a great guy and he didn't need that kind of grief, so we settled up and finished our drinks. We speculated that wives formed the first-ever union back in cave man days, and that led inevitably to things like agriculture and civilization. Otherwise, we'd still spend the bulk of our time grunting and chasing animals for food. Despite being a little boozy, we were aware that stuff rolls downhill and we were not at the top of the slope.

Time spent in Larry's is never wasted. I've learned many astonishing things while perched on a barstool, though to be honest, many of them are not suitable for a family discussion. I've learned of the best places for trout fishing by listening carefully to determine what those lyin' sacks of fishermen left out. Grouse hunters are the same. They never mention their favorite places, either, so rapt attention to detail is essential.

But I learned more from my best friend Wally than all the others combined, and it didn't take intelligence analysis worthy of the CIA. I'd just buy a couple of rounds.

When I got home that evening, I pulled a crumpled paper napkin out of my pocket. One corner was missing, torn off by Wally because a young woman had written her phone number on it. The rest of the napkin was covered with my cramped handwriting. I played James Boswell to Wally's Samuel Johnson.

In no particular order, here's what I learned that night:

"Unless you're e.e. cummings, learn how the caps key works. If you are e.e. cummings, the unfortunate news is that you're dead."

"The Dustbuster was originally intended for picking up rocks on the Apollo moon missions." Wally said this to an attractive young woman who probably hadn't been born when Neil Armstrong walked on the moon. Of course, he insisted it was Neil Young who'd first stepped onto the lunar surface, but the sweet young thing missed that too.

"Ronald McDonald is a god in some primitive cultures and most of the southern states." I couldn't argue with this one.

"Many in Oklahoma are proud to be out of step with the rest of the nation, yet I'm proud to be out of step with the majority of Oklahomans."

"Franch dressing: Ranch dressing with a dash of ketchup." I had to make a face at this one, but I know people who would love it.

"I graduated from the University of Old Men." No argument there. We're both graduates.

"I keep meaning to get the senile citizens discount, but then I forget to ask."

"Integrity is admirable, but hypocrisy pays better."

"Them library police....they'll throw the book at you." Sweet Young Thing laughed very prettily at this one.

"...so men desperately need to have an all-consuming hobby like hunting, fishing, sports, or even bicycling in order to distract them from the ultimate reality. And that's the plain truth that no matter what we do in life, no matter what we achieve or the wealth we accumulate, at the end we all die. I'm tellin' ya, it's the fear of death that drives us, nothing else." This one prompted Sweet Young Thing to write her phone number on the napkin.

"Broken Elbow, Oklahoma, received Tin status from LAB's Bike Friendly City program." This is true, but I can't decide if it's more disparaging toward Broken Elbow or the League's awards program.

"He's been given the urine-soaked crotch of courage award." This was directed at another 'bicycle' advocate at the far end of the bar, a man Wally despises for his hypocrisy and fear mongering. They have a long-standing feud peppered with more acrimony than any of Wally's ex-wives. He never hesitates to make fun of the man, particularly by mangling his name.

"Dog Porn would want a bike lane up his..."

And this is where Larry cut us off. Perhaps it was just as well.

.

This just in

Photo from BRAIN

Bicycle Retailer and Industry News (BRAIN) has a story on a new business in Portland.

Cycle Dog, owned by Lanette Fidrych, is a relatively new company that makes dog leashes and collars out of old bike inner tubes. “I am an avid bicyclist, and along with that comes a lot of flat tires,” Fidrych said. “I felt is was wrong to throw these old tubes away, so I started thinking about what to do with them. I have two dogs and I never had enough leashes and collars. I started sewing these products for them, and found that my family and friends loved them.

MORE

I'd like to help him out by donating old inner tubes, but (ahem) I never get flat tires.

Actually, I think Fidrych is doing all of us a service by recycling our flats. How many times have you seen discarded tubes along the road after a big group tour goes through?

If my Springer Spaniel were still alive, I'd have to get one of these collars for her. Then there was this girl I knew who wore a dog collar to the horror of her roommates, but that's not something to discuss here.

He has a Cycle Dog account on Twitter, too. I hope we don't confuse people over the names. There's a distinct possibility that when I originally set up the CycleDog blog, I just left out that space due to my abysmal typing skills. So don't get confused - Cycle Dog for leashes and collars, CycleDog for satire, sarcasm, screaming rants, and the odd bit of sanity now and then.

Good luck, Lanette! If anyone strays in here looking for your products, I'll send them your way.

Traffic signals and stop signs

More breathtaking stuff over on the Examiner. Feel free to tear it apart! This time it's about signals and stop signs, and why some cyclists ignore them. I do not condone the common practice of running lights, though like most everyone else, I treat stop signs as yields.

And my thanks to Fritz for a little nudge.

I'm trying to post these informational pieces on Monday. Writing over there has forced me to adopt more structure, as in 'deadlines', in order to get things done. These are self-imposed and not set in concrete, but I think it's helping.

I just don't know what to say about this one

Photo from New York Daily News

I'm all for discounted services for cyclists, but I'm thinking that some are more, um, practical than others. Discounted food, drinks, and bike parts would be nice. I'm not so sure about this one, though that's not because I have a Puritanical view. It's simple self-preservation. I taught She-Who-Must-Be- Obeyed how to shoot, and she's good at it when she has the Ruger 1022 in her hands.

If you walk in the door with a bicycle pump along with a couple of spare tubes, you may get some wary looks - or maybe not. I know nothing about the etiquette of such things.

From Reuters:

Take off your bicycle helmet, big boy!

BERLIN (Reuters) - A Berlin brothel has come up with a novel way to negate the impact of the global economic crisis and target a new group of customers at the same time -- offering a discount to patrons who arrive on bicycles.

"The recession has hit our industry hard," said Thomas Goetz, owner of the "Maison d'envie" brothel.

MORE from Reuters

More from New York Daily News

Wanna drive your kids crazy?

Here's a simple hearing test for ultrasonic ring tones. My hearing is badly degraded from all those guns, motorcycles, and obnoxiously loud rock concerts, but according to this website, I probably can't remember being a teenager anyway.

The really fun part was playing with the tones I can't hear. Number One Daughter bounced down the hallway to complain - loudly - that I was driving her crazy. The very best part is that her mother can't hear this either and had no idea what she was talking about!

Apparently you can download these to your PC or phone. If you do (and I'm thinking specifically of you, George) don't use them for evil.

Yeah, right.

I should be ashamed

Back in May, I wrote something explaining why I'm not on Twitter. And I was honest in that my days cover the same routine. How could that possibly be interesting?

As most of you know, I began writing for the Examiner back in April. I started posting brief links to the Examiner pieces on Facebook. I thought the whole thing pointless because most of the people I know on Facebook are regulars here on CycleDog, and for the most part, they have their own blogs. I wasn't using Facebook to accumulate more friends.

Something strange happened. When I posted a link to an Examiner piece, page views over there spiked. And the numbers were greater than the number of people in my contact list. I don't know why that happened, but I'll take it. If someone has an explanation, I'd be happy to hear it. If Facebook helps reach more people with the bicycling education message, it's a very good thing.

So that brings us back to the whole idea of using Twitter in a similar vein. Yes, that means I've set up a CycleDog account on Twitter, too. Now I have to figure out how to use it.

When I broached this idea to my best friend, Dr. Wally, he called me an idiot. Actually, he said, "Twitter away ya twit!" Sure, I'm way behind the curve as far as technology is concerned, but Wally hasn't given up Morse code for a cellphone yet.