A Day In Space

Perhaps I am a little obsessed with space these days.
I don't know why, exactly.

Maybe I picked up some space-bug when I passed through Mojave.

That Rutan private space place company is down there, along with all manner of other aerospace craziness.
Not NASA style aerospace stuff, American style.
Relatively small budget, big explosion kind of work.

Though, I suppose I have always been a bit of a space geek.
It is just closer to the surface, right now, maybe.


The shuttle program is nearly done, that might be it.
With no viable replacement on line, or even in production, it will be years of dead dreams.


American kids can dream of maybe catching a ride on some Russian rocket, I guess.

Maybe we can start importing some Chinese rockets, they are probably cheaper than the ones we build here.


Seems a little sad to me.
There was a time when space was a priority.
A bold effort that brought the nation together, largely out of fear and anxiety that the primitive communists had gotten ahead of us with Sputnik.
Whatever it prod that pushed us into space, it still seems pretty cool.
I think the routine of shuttle flights dulled perception that a bit, even if half that fleet was destroyed in dramatic accidents. We are complacent about people getting to space.


That might speak to a larger failure of our culture.
Loss of vision, dimming of dreams.
Wide spread couch potatoe culture, fed on fast food after a trip to the valuemart to buy some poorly fabricated bit of crap that comes with a remote - so we don't have to get up to turn it on or off.
(The last computer printer we purchased came with a remote. Why the hell does anyone need a remote for a god-damned computer printer?)

Anyway, I am getting far afoot here.
The fact that we loosing the drive to embark on big, brave, dramamtic adventures is sad.
Skylab slowly dipping into the atmosphere and burning up - sad.

A nation of wannabe graphic designers, almost music makers, service industry schmoes and retirees - searching for the next bargain basement plastic placebo to take the place of actual desires, passions or dreams - sad.


Maybe this new administration will help this country dream again.
Hopefully, they will allow us a little space.



The track is from Ballboy, by the way.

Fremont Friday

Gas Tank Murals, All In

Lets just get this gas tank mural business out of our systems for a bit, huh?
Here is a lovely assortment.

The pirate tank, above, is just one small part of a pirate themed bike.
Things generally get out of hand with any machine with a theme, beyond being a machine. Somebody really needed to express some pirate vibe, I guess.





The cursory eagle mural, can't get enough of the eagle imagery on a Harley.

America, fuck yeah!










A lovely Loony Tunes mural on a Boss Hoss bike, featuring Daffy Duck.

I somehow know too much about the owner of this machine, without ever having met them.
I am pretty sure he is a douchebag.








Black bear under a moon mural, nice.
I think that is supposed to be a bear.
A mural of a black bear, roaming around at night, on a black tank presents some challenges to the artist for sure.








Death Dealer.
Awesome.
On what looks to be a coffin tank, which makes it double awesome.
How could you not have a picture of Grim right there?

Another Gas Tank Mural

Here is another really great gas tank mural for you to contemplate. I found this over at Church of Choppers.

Gas Tank Murals

I love gas tank murals.

They can be dragons, or Nordic warriors, or maybe naughty pictures, eagles are alright too.

I love that the construction of a custom chopper is not enough to contain the builders vision and creativity. To fully convey their biker vision, they must go so far as to provide a graphic narrative upon the gas tank to complete the story.


This one, I think, is a landscape?

It kinda looks like a road there, on top.
So, when you are riding your motorcycle down the road, if you get bored, you can look down at the picture of the road and imagine riding there?
I am not sure, but i am pretty sure there is some really heavy Timothy Leary style thinking involved with true understanding of the meaning contained in this gas tank mural.

Octuplets

A woman down in the LA area gave birth to octuplets.
That is eight kids, gave birth to eight kids in less than five minutes.
Six boys, two girls, five minutes.


I don't know about things where you live, but in LA eight people can't get their half-caf-nonfat soy-with whipped cream-and a shot of lemon-venti lattes in less than five minutes.

Eight cars can't make it through a traffic light in five minutes.



Yet, somehow Dr. Karen Maples was able to deliver eight babies in five minutes.

"My eyes were wide," said Dr. Maples, chief of the department of obstetrics and gynecology.


Yeah, your eyes weren't the only thing, Dr. Maples.
Wow.
And apparently number eight was suprise.
I guess when you cross past maybe triplets - a few more is just not worth counting too closely.

Ox Cart

43 Summary

I have been pretty quiet about the departure of GWB and his posse from the White House.

I am not sure there is much I could say that isn't well apparent. I am hardly the pundit to deconstruct his administration for the annals of history. It is likely too early a day to even attempt that.

The Economist has done a fairly even and concise job of just that recently, read it here.


Remember that The Economist endorsed Bush just a few years ago. It is hardly a publication that can be discounted as wacko-gay-Jew-liberal-media-with-an-axe-to-grind. No, it is a pretty damned conservative group of money smart folks whose interest in politics is largely derived from global P&L statements.

I highly recommend the article.

Chevado

Hehehe...I love this...
This is so far from what people think should be done with a Nomad, these days.
I guess in "68 the Nomad was less trailer-resto-fetish vehicle.
Or this guy was just crazy, he was obviously crazy, what am I saying.
I want one, just to do wheelies away from every traffic stop.

The Hammer

Just in case you thought things were getting a bit wussy around here, let's just knock that thought out of your head with The Hammer.


Christ, I was ten when this was filmed.


F'n Motorhead makes grown men grovel.
This has to be the most bad ass, funny, period metal video ever...
If you think you can top it, send a link.

I wanna Lemmy beard, entirely due to this footage.

Gift Idea

You know I only make gift suggestions because I know how much I mean to you.
It is not a selfish thing at all.
I am just attempting to allow you to find an acceptable way for you to demonstrate your affections, without making me feel uncomfortable.
You know I am sensitive.


One great way for you to show me how much you care would be to acquire this Vincent Black Shadow for me.


It takes a special person to care for a Black Shadow.
You and I both know that I am very special.


Note to folks in Ohio, it seems it is located right there in Columbus.
What better way to lure me back to Columbus for a visit?
A gift of a Vincent Black Shadow might be the most effective bait ever.


Eight days left.
A perfect Valentine, if you ask me.

Fremont Friday

Hey Selby!

Check this out.
Something from Newt.




Blatantly lifted from MC ART

Year of the Ox

Chinese New Year time of year.


The year of the rat is ending.
Did it seem like a ratty year?
I think maybe it did.

The year of the ox is upon us.
The ox.
Not a very sexy sounding year.


The golden pig, that was kind of barnyard sexy.


But we are talkin ox here.
Oxen.
Very practical animals.
Good for pulling heavy loads and musky scents.
Steady, slow moving, the ox.
Perhaps that is what we need in a year.

Obama's Father - Cheney?

Somehow, major media has skipped over the shocking duel between Barack Obama and Dick Cheney - which occurred on the night of the inauguration!

It seems that after the Obama family arrived at the Whitehouse, late that evening, Dick Cheney came out from a secret wall panel and attacked Barack with a light saber.

It turns out the Obama is a Jedi ninja, so he was well prepared for the ensuing battle.


Evidence of the epic battle was captured in these leaked surveillance images.

Cheney, in spite of acting so feeble at the inauguration, is pictured wearing his mechanized body armor.



Strangely, it looks as if Obama took the time to change ties mid-combat.
Perhaps the red tie was singed or damaged by a light saber.


Though you may leap to the conclusion that Cheney's attack was motivated by his transition to private life, all reports are that he kept going on about how he was Barack's real father.


Strange times we are in...


The battle was unresolved, as the two men fought to a draw. Approaching Secret Service agents prompted Cheney's flight.

Throw yer chin out...

There is still some grinding and hammering to do, but the horn cover looks like this tonight.

I think I'll skip louvers, just 'cause I am not sure they make sense.

There might be a single yellow lense fog lamp to add a bit of imbalance to the look.
Oh, and there will be a big ugly generator (rather then the alternator) to make it seem like a jalopy - hanging in there somewhere...

History

Turkey Out of Whitehouse

Hey, I found this old photo of a turkey from Texas, coming out of a tiny Whitehouse.






Yeah, crazy, this Texas turkey was shipped to then President Warren Harding, in a mini-Whitehouse carton.

There was no indication who was reponsible for the turkey, from Texas, in the Whitehouse.
The turkey was sent to the Whitehouse.
Apparently, it took an eternity to get the Texas turkey out of the Whitehouse.


No political commentary here.
I just happened to find this picture of a turkey, from Texas, displaced from a Whitehouse.


Pure happenstance that I would post this today.
The last day the GWB is our president.
Absolute chance that this picture was posted, today.




On a side note, Harding was from the same town in Ohio that I am from. Thus my interest in random Harding things. Harding died in the building where I now work, to add to our random connection.

I want to be an astronaut

YILA and Scroobius Pip.

Gettin' there...

Things are now pinched, sectioned and painted.



See, it's cool.
If you can't see, well, just trust me.
It's cool.

Cooler than what was there.
We'll see if I can get a cover for the frame horns together this weekend.
To conceal my horniness...

Fremont Friday

Karl the Karrot

Join the Karl the Karrot Keds Klub!


It goes by the KKKK, for short.
Strangely low sign up rates.


Kome on keds, kick it with Karl.

It will make you kool.

Bold

I had a moment to take in some news yesterday and was left flabbergasted.

A member of Bush's Council of Economic Advisors bluntly stated that he does not believe the proposed economic stimulus plans will work.


That is a pretty bold statement, but it is not what blew me away.

What got me was that somebody would expose themselves to the national press as part of Bush's Council of Economic Advisors.

Hey, your term is about up dude!
And all of that advising you have been doing, um, look around.
Clearly whatever you have been advising for the past three years is not quite working out either.
You gotta update that resume soon.


The only way to top that is with Cheney's Council of Hunting Advisors issuing a statement saying that using the safety on loaded your shotgun and keeping the thing pointed at the ground while walking around is a bad idea.



The whole deal makes me want to be an economic advisor.

It's the new meteorology.
You can get things wrong most of the time.
But you don't have to tie yourself to a tree, while filmed by a news crew, for every hurricane that comes along as an economic advisor.

You just have to weather this shit storm.



While we are on the subject of delusional narcissists - American Idol is back on!
Yeah!

I am not exposed to enough crazy, self-involved, fragile-ego'd freaks in my daily life, American Idol lets me marvel at even more of them.


My fondness for the whole of humanity grows eternally...

LA Hill Climb

Fan Mail

I get this kinda thing all the time...

Business Time

I like the balance of sleeper/ass whipper contained in this car.



This is a nice remedy for some poor pro-streeted, pink and yellow monstrosity from the 80's.
Pull our the tweed interior, remove the aero-euro mirrors, install a bench seat, loose the billet wheels for some steelies and paint it all a color from the original model years selections.

You would make the world a better place.

Keep your eyes ahead

Watching this is almost enough to make me really miss Portland.

The low budget, uber-earnest images of Portland flittering in the background.


I have always said that Portland always looks better in the dark, in the rain.
At 3AM in PDX, you are likely well tossed, have perhaps seen some naked ladies writhing around, played hours of billiards and had some spicy spam mac.

When you walk out of that shitty restuarant under the overpass, with the Rainier pounder you got for the road, there is that Portland mist.

It's not quite rain, but too wet to be fog. And there is cold.

And that mist, with tiny droplets on your eyelashes, makes the city sparkle.
Portland sparkles the same way the strippers of the city do; reality obscured into beauty by a magical distortion.


That doesn't, really, have anything to do with Portland band THe Helio Sequence.

Fremont Friday

Beer

Who needs a cold one?

Flaming Purple Beezer

History

Pic-a-nic Basket

I notice that you are carrying a lovely picnic basket there.

I just sat down here for a rest, and I was feeling a bit peckish.

Would you care to join me and share the delights contained within your lovely picnic basket?

Your courtesy would certainly not go unnoticed, and I am sure we would have a most fantastical time.

Mmmm.

I see you are not convinced that I would be the best snack-time companion.

Listen...

I am not messing around here.
Can't you see that I am a frickin' bear?
Hand over the picnic basket, damnit.

Yank Squirrels Invade Limey-Land

It is old news that our Yank gray squirrels have been deployed to England. Who knows, they went over on a boat or something and made themselves at home.

But you know the Brit's. They feel like they are special, with their royalty, big Ferris wheel, high tea and what have you. Oh, and the Beckhams (which they can have back, we'll be fine without 'em).

It seems that our little North American gray squirrels are just having too much fun over in the Queen's countryside. The gray ones are kicking around traditional English red squirrels and causing quite a dust up.


Note, I find some humor in the Brit squirrels having red fur - red coats.


With particular Anglo-flair, the British government has been promoting squirrel hunting - along with the reintroduction of squirrel to the islands dinner table.


I picture lots of tweed and foggy morning jaunts into wood, perhaps with some scampering hunting dogs, for all of this defense of the isle from the surly scourge of those damned Yank squirrels.


Today's NYTimes has a whole article about the squirrel situation in it's food section.

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/01/07/dining/07squirrel.html

It is, of course, disturbing.
Little scampering squirrels.


Excerpt from the article-

“Part of the interest is curiosity and novelty,” said Barry Shaw of Shaw Meats, who sells squirrel meat at the Wirral Farmers Market near Liverpool. “It’s a great conversation starter for dinner parties.”

Yeah, lets start with "I am not eating any squirrel!"

I am a pretty open omnivore, but I am not going rodent.
I've had the bunny and that is close enough, and I am not into it.
Tiny birds, big birds, daffy birds, sure, tastey.
Bring me some of those Thai spiced crickets and I'll try 'em. Why not.
Bivalves, tentacles and urchin, yup, love that stuff too.


No squirrel for me though.
No rats, chipmunks, gophers, ferrets or ground hogs either.
That is not my bag, baby.

There is way more detail than you need in the article, beyond culling details and flavor. Go read it, unless you are about to head off for some food..

A shell

I know...it's still not cool.

I went at the A shell like a Cuisnart, cutting in all directions to make it fit onto the T.
So, we are at this point.

The masking tape stuff will get turned into metal and the cardboard hood will too. There might be some louvers punched in the whole lot.

We're talking blunt instrument here.
Beautiful brutality...

Coors

I have never been a fan of the Coors.
Somehow, it seems a lot nicer sitting on that bike.

Mmm, Blogger

So I did a bunch of work today, sectioning and chopping the A grill for the T...

I would show you, but Blogger is working against me.
The mobile blog thing has change and F'd up the scene.

That on top of a lost post earlier today has me bummed.

I can only provide so much insight into genius on-line everyday.
These problems hamper your travels into my head.

But I am only one man.
And I would rather do things in the real world, rather then fix the interweb world.
So just deal.
And know that I am doing things cooler than anybody you know.

New post, new week, new year...

Hmm. Yes, what to say about that?

Yes it is a new day in a new year.
It may even be a new era, by some accounts.

Big stuff is coming, big stuff is both going and coming down.
Politics, Gaza, the economy...
Shit, the list goes on and on.


This is the time of year that folks send out the story of their year, condensed to a colorful piece of paper, no larger than 8.5x10 inches.
Careful edits allow the tale of a families joys and struggles for the past 12 months to fit in such a format.
There may be mention of death or natural disaster, but those bits are usually compacted into a single sentence.
Greater emphasis tends to fall on triumphs rather than tests.


And this is not one of those missives.

I am only reflecting on the contrast between the current world situations in contrast to the giddy holiday spirit displayed so heartily and with such plastic sheen, over the past few weeks.
I have been away from work for that time.
Equally engaged in social adventure and seclusion.
It leaves one reflective and cautiously eying the future.


New Year's eve celebration is full of optimism and romance.
New Year's day brings the buyers remorse.

We actually own this day...


These giant piles of crap are ours to deal with.

Did you here about the guy in Covina? He dressed up like Santa and went to his ex's family party X-mas eve? He gunned down the nine year old girl who opened the door along with eight others and lit the place up with a flamethrower. He finished the night at his brother's house, with a gun in his mouth and a bomb in the car.
Somebody has to mop up that one...

And that is just a little poo pile.
Should you really want to get into it, ponder on the neck deep muck bogs.

Wars, collapsing economic towers, Guantanamo, global warming, the likely depletion of not just oil but also potable water in this century.

Nearly every industrialized nation has a population that is aging and numerically in retreat. It is great that population growth has perhaps hit some plateau but leaves less folks to care for and support a ballooning health and social system demand.

Our monetary system on a tight-rope. A recession that will by most examinations last deep into 2010, even with a huge pork pie served up in the coming year.

Frozen wages, credit markets and corporate growth plans.

Foreclosures, unemployment, rising rates of homeless families.



Deeply depressing stuff, when you get down to it.



So, yeah, Happy New Year!

Losing my edge

You know, the transition to a new year can leave you feeling as though time is slipping past more quickly than one might realize.

It could leave you wondering if you might be losing your edge, losing relevence in the world around you.

Well, you probably are...

LCD Soundsystem, again.

Fremont Friday

So, I found a bunch of cool pictuers from the Fremont Dragstrip, circa 1971.

We'll have Fremont Fridays for a spell...

A Grill

Yeah, look at that.
I don't know what the hell I am thinking either.
The whole damn car fits inside that commercial A grill shell.

Really, I think it'll all work out.
Just a cut there and there.


Maybe.
I really do think this will be cool.
More so that the previous plan.


The old-timey honky bitches will be on this like ants on honey...

The Future

Alright, it's 2009.
By all accounts, when I was growing up, we should now be in the "future" right?
And still no frickin' flying cars.

Gosh darn it!
I was counting on flying cars.

Or, at least, cars that are as cool as Dean Jefferies MantaRay.