Swine – Page 6 – CanooterValve

Really Big Announcements

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Nov 112011

Reading yesterday’s post from BikeSnobNYC confirmed a suspicion I’ve had about myself for some time now. Unlike NiCole “COLE” Robbins, I actually believe in producing some sort of good or service in order to be paid. And that’s what’s wrong with me.

I believe I’ve fallen out of step with America’s move to a “service economy.” For a while, I understood it. During my early years running my e-commerce business, I answered consumer emails and even picked up some phones at all hours of the day and night. Had I known how much better off my family would be now if instead I’d done crunches all day and focused on being a narcissistic asshole in hopes that MTV would syndicate my “project,” by now I’d have my own line of cologne made specifically for the mentally challenged. Another mistake: my wife and I had a pretty quiet and understated wedding. I realize now that I should have at least called some local news agencies and intimated that the affair involved maintaining the bloodline of Jesus and the real reason Dick Cheney shot that guy in the face. How much do you have to charge per admission to make $18M on a wedding?

To that end, I’m announcing three initiatives today:

First, inspired by NiCole “COLE” Robbins, I launched my own Kickstarter project today. It’s still in the approval stage, but I don’t see any reason why it wouldn’t be permitted, as it seems to violate far fewer policies than NiCole “COLE” Robbins’ project. There may be some slight waffling on the part of the Kickstarter staff regarding the subtle difference between a mere “wiseass artistic statement” versus the more genuine “opportunistic phony cause” that begat it, but that wouldn’t be very cool of them.

What is your project?

I’m looking to raise $12,000,000 to fund a lavish ceremony to remarry my wife (our first wedding was relatively small, and we’d not thought to monetize it). Market research suggests the return on this investment could be $18,000,000 or more, a 50% return on investment, if my math is correct, realized almost immediately. I understand that merely renewing vows may not be sufficiently dramatic, so I’m willing to divorce and remarry this woman, in order to make this work. In supporting me on this exciting journey, you will also be supporting and promoting Love (both the sentiment and the burgeoning new American industry).

What rewards would you offer?

Provided we hit our target goal, relatively high quality digital photos of the wedding, our outstanding children, and our extremely photogenic dog will be provided to all investors. Those contributing more than $500,000 each will also receive an artisanal cupcake–probably one of the really cool “cupcake-pop” style ones that come on a stick. Those are awesome.

Second, I’ll also be launching a new and different web site to track my progress in this endeavor, among other things. Probably.

Oh, and the third thing: maybe I should start a bike company. I mean, I have a strong patent, I know some stuff about bicycles, and I like acting entrepreneurial at parties. I’ve seen people start bike companies with less. So I’m taking votes. Comment or email me. Maybe I could fund it with Kickstarter, now that I’m soon to be a Kickstarter “power user” and return each investor’s total amount as a discount off a frame. That’s starting to sound a little too “old America,” though, where I actually have to make something.

Luxury Brands Alive and Well

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Oct 302011

Just the previous night, I’d had a horrible nightmare in which Rapha was forced to manufacture a product that wasn’t :: //www.rapha.cc/rapha-jeans?locale=US" target="blank">utterly ridiculous, but as my live-in barista commenced the “design” phase of my morning caffé and I settled in to review the day’s events on my iPad all my cares soon faded away.
For one thing, :: //www.bikerumor.com/2011/10/29/2012-rock-racing-road-bikes-made-in-italy-aircraft-inspired-honeycomb-frames/" target="blank">Rock Racing is making bicycles. While not necessarily bred with the same passion that fueled Mr. Ball’s entrance into the wheelset manufacturing market, these frames do offer a Ball trademark feature: Wildly Vague Assertions:
:: //www.rockracing.it/en/bike-rock-racing-RX5.html" target="blank">“Honeycomb technology reduces to zero even the slightest energy dispersion exerted on the pedals, a phenomenon typically found in many of the frames on the market today.”
:: //www.assos.com/" target="blank">
And by “Really Big,” I mean enormous. The shades are freakishly large, sort of like something :: //www.canootervalve.com/archives/692">Kanye West would wear while heavily embrocated and cruising his fixie through Occupy Wall Street. Always the intrepid faux-journalist and a genuine fan of many Swiss things, I was anxious to test these new glasses myself. Sadly, my doctor strictly forbid me to wear the glasses after determining they would impair my ability to breathe by cutting off all airflow to my head. Though I was unable to wear the glasses and test their innovative “Tunnel Vision” tinting–a technology so rare that gas stations usually offer only one similar model per display rack–I was able to enlist help in testing the fit of the glasses.
:: block;margin-right:auto;margin-left:auto;" alt="image" src="http://www.canootervalve.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/10/llama-assos.jpg" />

Behind a Buick

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Oct 252011

I’d like to propose a new phrase:

“Behind a Buick.”

You know: nearly every shitty experience when you need to get somewhere involves being behind someone in a Buick. Somebody’s placed “Buicked” in the Urban Dictionary, but that really describes an action (pretty elegantly, too), whereas I’m describing a broader status or condition, as in:

“Man, ever since Leslie starting using crystal meth and hanging with those circus carnies, her life’s been behind a Buick.”

“Roy found himself homeless and without either of his ears. His wife had left him for a circus carnie, and he turned heavily to alcohol and Scientology, which he believes fueled his naked rampage with the ATV in the Westmoreland County Mall last Thursday. ‘I been behind a Buick my whole life,’ he is quoted as telling the officer who eventually shot him.”

“Pinarello’s fugly commuter bike is behind a Buick.”

At least someone in Marketing had the foresight to name this model “Only the Brave,” though I’d probably have gone for the more consumer-facing, “What the Fuck is Wrong With You?”. Like so many great cycling products, it’s a collaboration an Italian design company–Diesel, in this case, whose “Be Stupid” tag line and underlying philosophy offers some insight into the bike’s design:

Just another example of an ultra-successful cycling-fashion partnership, and I’m sold.

After years of obsessing about frames, components, and apparel, I’m thinking it might be time for me to change direction, and turn the entirety of my cycling life over to fashion designers. It works for celebrities. Following this logic, I’d be picking up this sweet helmet Diesel lists right next to the bicycle on their site.

When not wearing clothing I’ve made myself, I’m all Rapha all the time, and I’m pretty sure I can convince D2 Shoes to make me something in gatorskin that’s still SPD-compatible. And I’m going to go Louis Vuitton on the messenger bag–not necessarily because I’m convinced it’s the best and most expensive, but because, after seeing this, I can’t imagine sitting through another one of these videos, even as a joke.

Seriously, tell me that’s not the scariest fucking video you’ve ever seen. If the guy who made that video hasn’t killed and eaten anybody, it’s only because he’s so busy videotaping bags while muttering shit to himself and saying, “Yeah.”

Zombie Marketing and Blood Mudder

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Oct 242011

If you’re as disappointed as I am that the world didn’t end last Friday, I have great news. You can keep putting off shopping for holiday gifts, working on those abs, and learning how to cut the grass, because the end is still nigh.

How do I know? Shit. How did Glenn Beck know gold was a good investment? If you’re paying attention, it’s obvious, and the evidence just keeps piling up. No, I don’t mean the economy, political upheaval in the Middle East, or the way natural disasters seem to happen weekly these days. I’m talking about the obvious Third Horseman of the Apocalypse, zombies.

Zombies are hot in every way right now, but the absolute hottest zombie trend in corporate America today is Referencing, the fine art of digging up something that used to be genuine, and serving it to the public as a lumbering, rotting homage to “authenticity.”

Sure, taking something classic and reconstituting it as hipster garbage has been going on forever, but I’m here to tell you we’re in a race to the End Times, when every original idea is used up and we’re left with shit referencing shit that referenced other shit. We made a “Dukes of Hazzard” movie for crissake, but the favorite target for zombie marketers is something that was cult, genuine. Consider the alarming rate at which things that once meant something are being co-opted and spit back out as soul-less decorations. Zombie marketing is the Third Horseman of the Apocalypse, generally translated as “Famine” or “Pestilence.” You have to squint a little to see it, and you might think I’m crazy, but you know who else they called crazy? Glenn Beck. And Gandi. And Cher.

Still suspicious?

Yes, that’s Miley Cyrus getting around on a bicycle while wearing an Iron Maiden Live After Death t-shirt. Live-After-Mother-Fucking-Death. Try to forget that any time soon.

And Zombie Marketing loves outdoor and action sports. Take my beloved 29ers. Flipping through a People magazine at a relative’s house over the weekend, I was surprised to find this photo:

Everybody's Doing It

That’s right: reality show “people” cavorting gaily on an Orbea 29er. Not a bike with 26″ wheels manufactured by Trek or Specialized but with the decals blacked over, and not a bike purchased at REI with two feet of extra hydraulic line, but a genuine Orbea Alma 29er. Like it or not, we live in a world where you might well see your Serotta in a gum commercial, your Ibis in a spot hawking Cialis. And 29ers, once the last bastion of the smuggest elite cycling bastards, are soon to show up under the Jake Gyllenhaal posse or the Kardashians. Random encounters with now common 29ers is a new level of cultural acceptance, entirely different from a “president” riding one. Count this as further proof that, once the rogue element in the world of cycling, the 29er is now standard. It’s only a matter of time before Brad Pitt’s tongue moves from counter-balancing faux Dutch hipster mobiles to helping navigate some 24-hour gnar.

Speaking of 24-hours of gnar, those of us looking to force a personal rapture should look into a Tough Mudder event:

How cool is it that, here in the 21st Century, we’ve figured out a way to market pure unadulterated pain and suffering? And they say we’ve lost our edge!

Clearly this sort of thing is designed to be all kinds of Pure, and Genuine, and Hardcore, and good for them. In making competitors wrestle barbed wire and run through fire and shit, this event is all about being authentic, derivative of nothing that’s come before it–the absolute most badass of the badass.

That’s why I’m announcing plans for a spin-off of Tough Mudder, and I’m here to tell you, Tough Mudder is a freakin’ Disneyworld parade compared to the event concept I’m working on now. Suffering is all the rage these days, and therein lies a great opportunity. Say hello to Doomsday Events, my Limited Liability Corporation, registered in Delaware, of course, for shady reasons, and my first project, Blood Mudder.

First, consider the distance. While the Tough Mudder goes on for 24-hours, Blood Mudder events go on for six months. Suck on that, tri geeks. Now you can train half a year to race half a year. Blood Mudder, FTW!

Sure, they have plenty of mud-holes covered in barbed wire–oohhh, barbed wire–scary!–but Blood Mudder will take a page from tri swims and begin with an open water swim, in boxing gloves and bowling shoes, while the crowd on the shore spits poison darts at you and lobs piranhas (there will not be any piranhas in the water to begin with–that’d just be stupid).

You like climbing walls and shit? Like rock climbing? How about scaling a 20-foot wall of crushed glass? That’s being driven toward you on the front of a semi? A semi with a giant treadmill on it’s roof? That’s right. Get some.

Think your hand-eye coordination is top drawer and you have a strong stomach? Let’s see you ride an elliptical while bobbing for severed squirrel heads in a 55-gallon oil drum, tough guy. And yes, the oil drum is filled with oil. And squirrel heads.

Stay sharp. Every night you’ll process tax returns on a bridge while dodging traffic.

And logs? Logs are hot right now in tough guy races, but that’s chickenshit. You’ll race carrying the severed legs of those who didn’t make it through the initial swim. And when we come to the chainsaw portion of the event, you’ll saw live telephone poles like a real man.

Think you can “perform” under pressure? With the Stanford Tree? While your extended family watches? I didn’t think so, Mary.

Like Chuck Norris flicks? How about 72 hours of Chuck Norris getting slapped by a mime. No blinking.

If you have no bull riding experience, riding a grizzly bear will be even more difficult.

Let’s just say competitions will not be held in any states that refuse to allow people to arm wrestle pneumatic presses.

Because they generally possess less upper body strength, women will be at a disadvantage in several stages of the race, but the forced lactation stations will not be among them. No carrying your severed leg up the burning rope until something comes out, Bronson.

Feed zones will be heavily subsidized by pharmaceutical companies. Results will vary.

I’m sure we can also manage to fit a few 24-hour mountain bike races in there, too, maybe with bikes you have to build yourself from bamboo and bones. Anyway, it should be pretty cool for a while. At least until somebody rips it off and starts doing something similar. Or tougher. I’m accepting volunteers and registrations now. Entrance fee is only $2,500, but I’ll need that in gold, please.

Time Check

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Oct 212011

Regarding today’s Apocalypse, does anyone know if God’s on Eastern Standard Time?

My Doomsday Cult, Part 2: These Guys

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Oct 192011

Inspired by a desire to help my fellow man, and all the money Harold Camping made by predicting the end of the world this past May 21st, I’ve started my own doomsday cult.

At first, I’d thought it best to “beat” Camping to his latest, adjusted end time of October 21st, 2011, but I’ve since had a bit of a revelation: sick of Camping’s bullshit, once October 22nd rolls around, fans of the end of the world are going to be looking for a new voice to tell them to abandon all hope.

I think I can be that voice.

"Durable, Absorbs Bumpy Terrain, Plenty of Gears" - Schwinning!

If the current walking dead version of Schwinn was my First Horseman of the Apocalypse, the Second Horseman is more difficult to explain, and frankly, confused the hell out of me at first (seemed to be not one person, but two). Though forbidden to reveal to you exactly how I know these things in such detail, trust me, I have my sources. The problem is that these revelations are only made to me through a complex series of YouTube promo videos for bike wheel lights, all played in slow motion and in a certain order.

But after much prayer and analysis, I can tell you with absolute certainty that the two guys on those Heineken commercials are–together–the embodiment of the Second Horseman of the Apocalypse.

That’s just one of them. You know the other one. God, I hate those creepy little neuvo-Golden Age shits. This was clearly supposed to be Heineken’s answer to the Dos Equis “Most Interesting Man in the World,” but, congratulations Heineken, instead of coming anywhere near the MIMITW ads, you’ve hastened the Apocalypse. Nice.

When the Lamb opened the second seal, I heard the second living creature say, “Come and see!” Then another ride came out, a fiery red one with dubious components from the late ’90s. Its riders were given power to be whip-thin hipsters with ironic facial hair and frenetic enthusiasm for lives that appear utterly devoid of meaning, and thus suck all hope and peace from the earth and to make men wail and lament and slay each other in frustration. – Revolutions 6:2.3-4.2

Though I can’t be completely certain, my interpretation of the cryptic text above suggests that the mysterious method of conveyance for these evil douchebags has been located in Illinois, and is currently for sale on eBay for $35,000 (not a typo–at least not on my part).

For $35k, should include matching "I'm with Stupid" t-shirts.

My Doomsday Cult

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Oct 172011

I’ve decided to start my own doomsday cult. I’ve thought about it, and I’m pretty sure this is my divine calling, though I have to admit, the money’s pretty good, too. High-profile doomsday-mongers, Family Radio took in $18M in donations in 2009, in addition to their $34 million in “stock and other securities,” and they couldn’t even get the end of the world right. I don’t know what that spells for you, for sounds like an untapped market to me.

Granted, I don’t like math, but math doesn’t seem to play much of a role in the calculations anyway, particularly when you’re starting from a rough estimate with a margin of error of 14,000 years. Besides, the end could be super close, so who has time for calculations that involve carrying numbers? Once my followers send me the first grand or so in donations, I plan to just ask Siri.

Don’t get me wrong: I wouldn’t head down this career path if I thought everything was going to turn out just dandy. Unlike those who focus on a close reading of the bible, world events, or signs of economic collapse in stock markets, I think the comping Apocalypse can be divined largely by looking at the shit people are buying.

First Horseman of the Apocalypse: Schwinn

In the “abomination in God’s eyes” category, somebody is selling this bike to his fellow man, and it’s going on all the time.

Notice the detailed description there at the bottom:

Aluminum dual suspension frame smoothes the ride. Suntour suspension fork eats bumps and increases control. Shimano EZFire shifters for fast gear modifications. SR Suntour alloy three piece cranks provide optimal on or offroad gearing. Promax front disc brake and rear alloy linear pull brake gives controlled stopping power. 24 Speeds with Shimano Altus rear derailleur for precise shifting. Double walled alloy rims are light and powerful. Color: Red. 26 Wheels. Some assembly needed. Adjustable seat height. Frame height: 18 .

Solid facts, no mystery left unexplored. If you were wondering how the bike modifies gears, the clear answer is “fast.” The gearing works on or offroad, and the rims are “powerful.” Seat height is even adjustable.

But also notice in the upper corner that eight of these have already been sold, and this, too, is a sign. “Woe to them! They have brought disaster upon themselves.” (Isaiah 3:9)

In the coming days and weeks (years?) more will be revealed about my predictions (while I figure out how to add a PayPal thing to accept donations). I just have to get those posts written before October 21st.

Mystify Wallstreet

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Oct 132011

For a while there, I was thinking I had to worry about my country’s increasingly rapid descent into a crumbling and corrupt failed state. But now that Kanye West has visited Occupy Wall Street, and his handler, Russell Simmons, has explained that the stone silent Kanye’s support for the great unwashed masses was occurring primarily “spiritually,” I can get back to watching my favorite TV shows.

Chill, I got this shit. Kanye opted for the more understated gold teeth for the event.

Just in time, too, because I damn near missed this episode of “My First Place” on HGTV, in which this ~~feckless~~ hapless, young woman is searching for a tolerable first home near Boston.

Julia would love to move out of her parents’ house–not necessarily because she’s pushing 40, but because she has no privacy here and needs to be free to hang out with her friends. As anyone will attest masked ball orgies, ritual murders, and totally pimp meth labs are all nearly impossible to truly enjoy with Dad in the corner, watching his old “Baretta” re-runs. So she needs her own home. Unfortunately, as most of us will agree, every condo under $800k pretty much sucks total ass, and that’s really bumming young Julia out.

It’s also bumming out Julia’s mom.

Who decides to go ahead and give Julia the money to buy a million dollar condo instead. Then everyone is happy.

Especially Julia, who’s overcome that childish awkwardness of accepting tokens of affection from her parents.

But what about that small percentage of us who’ve not yet mastered autotune, or earned the love of Julia’s mom?

We have to resort to thinking or using our hands to make things in order to get houses. And when you need a house bad enough, you create 99.999999999997% fail-proof wireless disc brakes for bicycles.

If relatively few test riders die during the development of this revolutionary new product, the wireless system could be ready for even more serious applications, and this guy will probably make enough money to buy Julia’s mom dinner. It’s a start.

Mr. Corporation’s Dope Tweets

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Oct 122011

By now, if you don’t know a war has begun between all things cycling and ward of the state General Motors, it’s probably because you’ve been watching a guy on a mountain bike getting t-boned by an antelope over and over all day.

Basically, GM released this shitty ad targeting college students, claiming you’re a loser if you ride a bike.

BikePortland.org had what’s become the definitive reaction, and everyone else has weighed in with an opinion about how completely inexcusable it is, but what I found the strangest about all of this–and the least frequently mentioned–is that the whole concept behind the ad is way beyond just uninspired.

The ad itself is indicative of the kind of snarky, faux-hipster meanness that marks most corporations’ sorry attempts to reach consumers in the age of social media. “Look how edgy we are, kids,” it says. “Who just dropped the word ‘sucks’ in a print ad? We did, ’cause we be keeping in real.”

Yes. Oh look, GM isn’t afraid to make fun of people, even if they clearly suck at it. Aside from the fact that goofing on a guy for riding a bike to class is now akin to making fun of him because he doesn’t smoke, there’s still that cold fact that old corporations make tired jokes. Seriously, on most campuses in the real world circa 2011, the guy on the bike is laughing at the poor bastard trying to find a place to park his pickup truck. What’s next, GM? Maybe you could make fun of those hippies with their bell bottoms.

Thing is, I know we have to legally treat corporations as people now, but that doesn’t mean we have to like those people. And we don’t expect them to be our friends. In fact, we’d usually prefer it if they just stayed corporations. Sometimes, we’d rather just order the chicken for dinner without needing to know its name. Sometimes in the rush to “socialize” with us, big companies like GM seem to forget this.

Listen, GM, we’re not even back to the point were we can trust your cars not to drop an axle leaving the lot, burn a tank of gas a day, and kill us when their steering wheels fall off, so don’t let’s get all fancy trying to be “down” with us. Instead, tell you what: you make the fucking cars, and we’ll socialize and joke with one another. Speaking of which, here’s a good one that’s making the rounds right now: have you seen that dumbass GM ad? Let’s boycott that shit.

Helltown and Commuting Zombie Hoards

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Oct 052011

Given the news tonight of the passing of Steve Jobs, any rant bemoaning the death of innovation in America would seem to be overkill. Though certainly no devotee of the cult of Apple (briefly owned an iPhone before going permanently Android), even I have to admit we’ll likely not see another corporate figure with a personality so uniquely associated with “making stuff” (with the possible exception of this guy).

In the editorial spot normally reserved for my righteous indignation, then, I’d like to offer instead a commercial for beer.

A cycling friend of mine went out there and launched his own brewing company, Helltown Brewing, named after the original nickname for Mount Pleasant, PA, his location (once upon a time, nearly everything around here was shrouded in the Thick Black Fog of Industrial Revolution). Shawn bought multiple bikes from me, and Helltown is a labor of love for a really great group of guys who’ve either worked with me, ridden bikes with me, or worked at riding bikes with me. Here’s an interview he gave about the brewery and how it all began. Great story, great group of guys, and, as it turns out, some amazingly good beer. So far, I’ve only had the Mischievous Brown Ale, but it instantly ranks as one of the absolute best beers I’ve found. I’m drinking a mighty fine Rogue Dead Guy right now, but wishing I had more Helltown. It was very good.

If you’re in the general environs of Pittsburgh and the Eastern regions thereof, you can find an increasingly long list of places with Mischievous on tap on the Helltown news page. Or you can man up (like my wife did) and pick up a growler right from the source. Pretty freakin’ beautiful out here anyway right now, so consider making the trip. Tell Shawn that Chris sent you, and maybe he’ll hook me up with one of those kickass Helltown t-shirts.

That's Some Beautiful Beer Run Scenery

Meanwhile, back at the revolution . . . no, not that revolution–I mean, the big revolution, the one against cyclists: we have news now that Chicago is cracking down on the deadly menace of cycling while texting, a reckless activity that kills literally one tenth of one person a year.

Public Frenemy #1

It’s true. Thanks to a fledgling little smear campaign rearing its head out there, the unholy act of bicycle commuting is stealing some acid rain laced thunder from “the myth of global warming.” Think bicycle commuting is an unquestionably good thing? You poor bastard. How those godless Dutch and the liberal media have you brainwashed! In reality–or a variation currently being put forth by “certain interested parties”–riding your bicycle to work is roughly akin to burning 55-gallon oil drums in a school filled with puppies.

The Only Thing Worse than Texting While Riding in Chicago: Ordering Take-out While Playing Bike Polo

The Wall Street Journal recently pointed out that new studies that “appear to expose cyclists as an urban menace” while simultaneously showing “2.3 times the black carbon, or soot, in their lungs” are factually flawed, at best, though this hasn’t kept them from being picked up by the media. It’s an amazing read, and one worth clicking through to check out. And to think you thought you were a semi-healthy, good person!

While the article goes a long way toward refuting the origins of the “studies” and questioning their motivations, I think it says a lot about the state of Things These Days that commuting by bicycle can–in any way–come under attack. One really has to question the motivations of any campaign that sets out in opposition to something as positive as riding a bike. Given what we know about obesity in America alone–never mind the entire energy crisis and snooze alarm we keep hitting on the death knell for the environment–it’s tough to comprehend an opposition to cycling. That such a campaign–regardless of how small–could even exist, is proof these are truly the end times, ladies and gentlemen.

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