09.11.2008 | 10:58 am
5 May, 7114
I should have known this was too good to last.
I have lived among these simpleminded natives nigh upon a week, and have come to respect their ways. Wake, forage, ride around in convoluted patterns, boast, eat, sleep.
Also, as I have spent more time with these people, I have noticed physical peculiarities not originally observed. For example, they seem to have developed a thick, calloused layer of skin on their hindquarters.
More importantly, I have noticed that their peculiar gait in walking is not merely due to the cleatlike protrusions on the underside of their feet. While this is certainly a contributing factor, it is not as important as the fact that they have developed an unconventional leg musculature resulting in a remarkable phenomenon: their legs always turn circles.
Astonishingly, this is now true even when they are not on their bicycles.
Alas, I fear that their idyllic life is about to come to an end. While there is considerable diversity among the many subfactions of this native village — a group who ride nothing but the banked ovalesque road, a spinoff group that eschews brakes and gears, and an irrascible crew of tiny people who want to do nothing but climb to the top of the highest hill each day — there is evidently a heretofore unmentioned tribe, which this group of natives cannot abide.
They are referred to as "The Dirty People."
I have not yet seen these Dirty People yet, but from the descriptions I have been given, I would happily spend my life in such ignorance. For these people have shunned all that is clean and elegant and light, in favor of cheap thrills, heavy, dirty bikes, and painted bodies.
They have no fear of pain, I am told, and want nothing more than to die.
And, I am given to understand, tomorrow they will be descending on these gentle natives I have come to love, and will be attacking — for no reason whatsoever — in a manner most vicious.
I look around and see no hope for these natives. Their arms are twiglike. They have no weapons to speak of. Their legs, while powerfully muscled, only turn in small circles; they are useless for kicking. These natives cannot even run.
Their only hope is to get on their bicycle conveyances and hope they can escape The Dirty People.
I am not optimistic.
Comments (55)
09.10.2008 | 11:38 am
A Note from Fatty: I don’t know what’s going on with my blog this week. I’ve been writing pretty normal posts (an open letter to Specialized, an ode to chocolate syrup), but when I post them, these weird “Journal of Dr. Prescott” stories have been appearing, instead.
So, because I have an important world-exclusive story today, I have disabled my normal publishing system and implemented a new, stronger data transfer algorithm (it’s vertically stiff and horizontally compliant, which is a good thing in data transfer algorithms), and am bringing you this news at great expense and personal risk.
Because the story must be told, that’s why.
Exclusive: Lance Armstrong Returns to Pro Racing
Austin, TX (Fat Cyclist Fake News Service) – In a major world-scooping exclusive, Fat Cyclist Fake News Service (FCFNS) is pleased to be the first to announce that Lance Armstrong will be returning to professional cycling.
“I’m returning to professional cycling,” Armstrong told FCFNS. “Which is to say, I’ll be racing my bike as a professional cyclist.”
“Also,” continued Armstrong in this very surprising and exclusive interview, “I will be joining a professional bicycle racing team, and I plan to race the Tour de France next year.”
“Finally,” summed up Armstrong in this unprecedented and unequaled interview, “I will be racing to win. And now I’ve got to go talk with those guys at Vanity Fair and tell them all the stuff I just told you.”
This news is certain to sweep the industry within the next few days, so FCFNS has contacted key players in the cycling industry to get their reactions.
Reaction from Team Astana
Johan Bruyneel, director of Team Astana, quickly denied that Armstrong will be racing with Team Astana. “We’re very excited to announce that we have nothing to announce,” said Bruyneel. “Lance Armstrong is not on our team, and you should not assume that he is on our team until we tell you he is, which will be in a couple of weeks. Further, when we announce that Armstrong will in fact be racing with Astana, we’d appreciate it if you’d all pretend to be surprised.”
Alberto Contador, winner of the 2007 Tour de France, expressed enthusiasm at the prospect of having Armstrong on the team. “In 2007 I gave my all in order to win the Tour de France. In 2008 — through no fault of my own — I was not allowed to defend my title. So, as you may expect, I’m very excited to return to the Tour de France in 2009 as a domestique to Mr. Armstrong.”
“How,” continued Contador, “could I possibly be anything but excited? The only way I could be more excited would be if Astana stole Basso from Liquigas, too. Maybe we could have a team made up of nothing but GC contenders. That would be swell.”
“Story of my life,” mumbled Levi Leipheimer.
Reaction from OLN
Executives from the OLN VS network were unavailable unable to comment, due to the fact that they were all rolling around on the floor, cheering, laughing, and praising various and sundry deity. Phrases that could made out through the din tended to be along the lines of, “We’re saved!”
Al Trautwig made himself available for comment outside VS headquarters. Since, however, nobody asked, he gave it anyway: “Lance Armstrong! Seven time Tour de France champion! Lance Lance Lance! The man from Texas! Lancity Lancity Lance Lance Lance!”
Trautwig was then ushered off the premises by local police, evidently at the request of VS security.
Reaction from Christian Prudhomme
Christian Prudhomme, director of the Tour de France, commented that, “We at ASO are simultaneously pleased and outraged that Lance Armstrong wants to race in the Tour de France next year. We sincerely look forward to the revenue, press, and excitement he will bring to the 2009 race, and look forward even more to leaking snide comments and unvetted test results to the press during the next several months.”
“You’ll need to excuse me now,” finished Prudhomme. “I need to go figure out how I can appear to be taking the high road when I announce that team Astana — which will otherwise have changed nothing since we barred them from racing in the 2008 Tour de France — is welcome in 2009.
Reaction from Greg Lemond
Former Tour de France champion Greg Lemond almost certainly has an opinion regarding this news, but nobody dared go near him to ask what it is.
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PS: Cycling Utah, a printed monthly magazine, interviews me in the current issue. You can download a PDF here and discover how goofy and all over the map I am when people ask me straightforward questions.
PPS: Those of you who follow the comments section of this blog are undoubtedly familiar with BotchedExperiment. Well, Botched had himself one heck of a weekend, as detailed in his wife’s blog. Warning: it involves a chainsaw and some really, really gross photos of Botched’s leg. I think you get the idea.
Comments (76)
09.9.2008 | 6:54 am
29 April, 7114
I believe the natives of this isle are beginning to trust me, for today they showed me around their isle. They have have paved concentric circles around the isle, using a sun-baked mixture of sand and tree resin as a road surface. They then use their bicycles — more about these in a moment — to ride around the isle.
The purpose of this activity is unclear. At first, it appears to be a clever, simple means of conveyance: lightweight, easily maintained, and reasonably efficient. However, When I ask natives where they are going on these bicycles, they frequently describe a route, instead of a destination. To my dismay, the routes they describe often arrive at the very point from which they left!
What does this mean? I have several theories, none satisfactory.
Are they patrolling for marauders? Is this a social interaction — via a perfunctory nod or wave — with others on the isle (note to self: investigate why only some natives wave to others, while many remain studiously aloof)? A political commentary? A mating dance? A religious ritual?
More indecipherable even than riding bicycles for great lengths of time with no destination other than the point of origin is the manner in which they ride. Some ride alone, for hour upon end. Some ride in packs, protecting what appears to be the alpha native of the group. Some ride single file and cannot seem to make up their mind as to who should lead; no sooner does a native get to a command position than she drops back to the rear of the line. Baffling.
Perhaps strangest of all, a very few of their number seem to take pleasure in first taking a swim, then riding a their bicycles, then running a great distance. Perhaps these are the mentally ill of the society. Or the outcasts. Or the criminals, being punished for their societal trespasses. Regardless, these natives are looked down upon by the others on the isle. I have learned that until recently were ejected from society, turned out from the village, and left to die, although in recent times they are treated more humanely, in the hope that they will someday come to their senses.
Their road is more than a practical way to simplify getting from one point to the other. The natives seem to regard it as a boundary. “Why,” I have asked them, “do you never stray from the road into the beautiful forest beyond?”
“There is nothing but the road,” the native will often reply, denying the very existence of their surroundings. Or perhaps they will ridicule me with what they regard as an equivalent question: “Why do you not eat pig offal?” When I say I don’t because it is repugnant and would do me no good were I to try, they will smile and say, “Precisely.”
I believe they worship their bicycles. Before each ride, they go through a ritual. They replenish the bicycle’s air. They wash and polish the bike, kneeling as they do so. Finally, they apply ceremonial ointment. The air of reverence and expectation is as touching as it is primitive.
Before — and sometimes after — their bicycle ministrations, the natives will often go to a bicycle church. There, they will describe how their religious rites have gone awry. A priest — witch doctor? — will lay hands on the bike, healing it. The native will offer thanks and some of their currency (those horrible foodlike bars of which I have earlier spoken) in exchange.
Who is this god to whom they pray? “Edam Urrix,” they say, the prime mover of their world.
The name strikes me as familiar, somehow. Perhaps it is because I, too, am fond of that particular kind of cheese.
Comments (74)
09.8.2008 | 12:02 pm
24 April 7114
For the thousandth time today, I must ask myself whether this is truly happening to me. Is it really possible that I — an anthropologist on vacation to the Southern Isles — would be blown off course and to an island that has, somehow, been hidden from the world for more than five thousand years?
It cannot be so! And yet, here I am.
Scarcely upon my awakening on the beach — can it be called a beach? It seems harder than most beaches, as if the sand had somehow been petrified into a flat, hard surface — I was met by the natives of this strange isle.
I call them “natives,” for I know not what else to call them. Certainly, “people” does not fit, for while they bear some resemblance to humans, their differences exceed their similarities in many striking ways.
The first thing one notes when seeing these individuals is the size of their heads. Their skulls are enormous, easily exceeding the ordinary girth of a modern human head by 40%. Further, their heads are somewhat pliant, as if made of a porous material intended to cushion and protect.
Of course, these odd skull sizes are even more evident when you consider that these natives are entirely without hair (and this is not merely the case on their heads, but also their legs and arms!).
The lack of extra thickness of the natives’ necks argues for the likelihood that this extra bulk surrounding the brain is quite light. I did not make this connection immediately, however, for the natives — every single one of them — hunches continuously. At first, I thought this was due to the weight of their heads. Instead, their spines are uniformly bent.
But why?
The natives’ odd characteristics are in no way limited to their heads and spines, however. They have no toes at all, but seem to have grown an odd, bony structure, protruding down from the ball of each foot. Their legs are muscular, but I have seen no native ever bend a leg at more than 40-degree angle, and they walk gingerly, tentatively, and without grace.
Their upper bodies are wasted away, with arms that are barely more than vestigial. And yet, they have almost comically large ribcages, as if they each had an extra set of lungs.
They all appear dangerously thin. Perhaps I have happened upon them during a famine?
Of course, I was terrified when confronted by these natives, but I needn’t have been. Not only are they mostly friendly, but they speak a dialect of English. A representative asked me if I needed food. I allowed that I was in fact hungry. He handed me a rectangular, hard piece of breadlike substance (lending credence to my famine theory), a bottle of water, and — along with the others of his tribe — turned and walked awkwardly behind a hut.
Thinking that I would have no trouble whatsoever catching up to such a slow folk, I took my time standing up while trying to eat this bland bar of foodlike substance (eventually, I discarded it). But by the time I got to the hut, the natives were gone.
Who are these strange folk, and what strange environmental pressures have forced these horrible changes upon their bodies?
So many mysteries. I hope to learn more tomorrow.
Comments (54)
09.5.2008 | 10:27 am
Dear Shimano,
Let me begin by saying that I like bikes, and I’m a huge nerd. Thus, it goes without saying that for quite some time, I’ve been interested in your upcoming electronic shifting option for the 2009 Dura-Ace group. I like the idea of a front derailleur that automatically trims. I like the idea of a two-stage downshift for the front, reducing the likelihood of dropping the chain. I like the idea of having the derailleurs auto-adjust to the cassette.
But then, a couple of days ago, I read the following in your press release (emphases mine), announcing that this new shifting option will be available in January ‘09.
“Going electric helps to ensure precision that can make a rider faster and reduce mental fatigue. If you think about Formula One racing, the race cars use automatic and clutchless transmissions because the computer can create a faster, more synchronized and consistent shift than a skilled driver can manually,” said Devin Walton, Shimano’s public relations manager. “That being said, those same technologies can improve performance for anyone and there is a certain novelty factor for those enthusiasts that like to indulge in the latest high tech equipment or use the same equipment that professionals use.”
Well, Shimano, whereas before I was merely interested in electronic shifting, now I am sold. In fact, I’d like o propose the following television ad, based on Mr. Walton’s excellent points.
Ad Spot 1: Mental Fatigue
Three cyclists are sitting on the curb outside a convenience store. Two of them are plainly exhausted from the ride they are currently on. The third looks perky and ready to go again.
Cyclist 1: Wow, what a ride. I don’t think I have ever shifted so many times in my life.
Cyclist 2: Mumm hubboo wugga ogglebork.
Cyclist 1: Dude, you sound even more mentally fatigued than I am! All that shifting must have totally melted your brain.
Cyclist 2: Buffo wacka wacka.
Cyclist 1: I don’t know what you’re saying, but dude, I know what you mean.
Cyclist 3: Perhaps you, as I recently have, should investigate the merits of the new Shimano Dura-Ace Di2, a technologically advanced, electronic shifting option for the all new 7900 series Dura-Ace. I have found that my mental fatigue has decreased by 9.26% since I have integrated this sublime technology into my cycling regimen.
Cyclist 1: I think I’d agree with you, but all that shifting I did on that ride was just too much. My mind is too fatigued to have paid attention to what you just said.
Cyclist 2: Corpubookka wifflemarfin? (starts drooling)
Cyclist 3: Indubitably. In addition, I find the novelty factor of this bike quite gratifying. Pip pip!
Cyclist 1: (Head explodes)
Rim shot. Fade to black. Go to Shimano logo.
Ad Spot 2: Formula Racer
OK, Shimano, I admit: I don’t have the idea for this one quite nailed down, because I’m not quite sure what Mr. Walton means when he says:
If you think about Formula One racing, the race cars use automatic and clutchless transmissions because the computer can create a faster, more synchronized and consistent shift than a skilled driver can manually
If I understand correctly, he’s saying F1 automatic transmissions shift faster than manual transmissions. I get that. My problem is that even though it’s electronic, the new Di2 transmission is still definitely manual. I mean, it’s not going to shift except when I tell it to, right?
And the whole thing about “clutchless transmissions” completely mystifies me. Are you saying that the new Di2 is superior because it’s clutchless? If this is the case, you may want to have a conversation with your engineering department. They may have news for you about all the other bike drivetrains that have ever existed in the history of bikes (hint: none of them have ever had clutches.)
Get back to me on this, would you, Shimano, and I’ll get this second ad spot written, pronto.
Kind Regards,
The Fat Cyclist
Comments (59)
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