Bad Luck

Green bikes are supposed to be bad luck.
Or so they say.






That's '76 Commando 850 gear, tucked into a '98 Laverda Ghost frame.






Wow.

Crap

I can't be the only person who nearly craps themselves, from looking at this.

One of Chopper Dave's frames, all done up.


All FXR, Buell motor or iron-head ideas may be out the window.


A simple bike project seems like such a good idea, until I see something like this.

Junk Collector

It seems appropriate to close this week out with some music from Mr Guerrero.
There happens to be some skating to watch, while you listen.

Tommy

Geurrero avoids Mopar obstacles and makes cool music

Fueler Friday

Kill It

these guys absolutely kill

Salba

has this expression on his face in every photo I have ever seen

Well, Have You?

DP

is kinda scary

Mountain

Fox Park

Metz on the edge...

Jason Jessee

At some point, after this, Jason went south to be a biker-type guy or something.
Builds some pretty cool stuff.

WheelieSticks

Somebody asked why there is no skateboard stuff on prettynotgood.

I don't know why there isn't more skate stuff here.

Screw that question.
This week is skate week.



I think the reason is that there are better places to see skate stuff.
I don't take pics, or shoot videos or care too much about anybody elses deal.
I just find my line.



If you looking to look at some serious shit, go check this.

It is how I remember old issues of Thrasher. Awesome photos, stories written by people who actually skate, reviews of Swedish metal bands, etc.
The glossy cover, the inky pulp paper, the total package.

They do a better job than I ever could.


Anyway, this week lotsa skate stuff.
If you are on dial-up, sorry...

History

Grapevine Fires

Death Cab for Cutie combine with Walter Robot animation for this.

It Wants to Go

The Model T told me last night that it wants to go outside.

It's ready to go out and be a car.


I could detail how I know that, but you will think I am crazy.
I mean more crazy...
Crazier than somebody who would think they might build their own car.
And then do that.


I know it is an inanimate object and that inanimate objects can't talk.
But I have this crazy notion that they might, if you listen hard enough.

If you spend a few years staring at a toaster, touching it, it will tell you when it is really ready to make some toast.


At this point, the car I have been building and I are fairly attuned to one another.
It has been absorbing Scott energy for some time. We know each other now.

We feel each other.

Soak that in for a moment.


I can't explain it any better.

There was other energy stored in the T. It has been a regular drive around car, a hot rod. It had a life before it found me.
It's barely even a Model T any more.
It is an absolute assemblage if mismatched bits that all have soaked up energy over the past ninety years.

And all of that energy needed to somehow come together. To become a whole.
We've had to get to know each other.
We needed to become friends.
We have had some fights about this and that.
We needed to develop some trust.
But we have gotten past most of our differences, limitations and understand, together, what we are collectively trying to do.

Like making a magnet, everything had to get in line.
The cosmic-mojo-shit needed to get together.

And yesterday, the T told me it was time that we get on with that.


So, I've got some work to do.

Fueler Friday

A Flying Car!

...and it looks like butt.

These guys had their first test flight today, lasting less than a minute.





Road testing has been going on for years.
So, there it is, another flying car.

Christ, that thing is not what I have in mind at all.
Didn't these people read any science fiction, before starting on this? Or see Star Wars when they were kids?







Expected price is about $200,000, release sometime in 2010.

For the money, I would kinda prefer my flying car to not look like a mutated Nemo-plane.

If I were to want a Nemo-plane-car, it had better be amphibious, at least.

FuckYeah!

What's not to love about this pic?


God bless JunglePam, burn outs, VHT and America!


Fuckin' hell, where does this exist today?


Damnit, people!


Would there be a JunglePam without JungleJim?
Was Jim a marketing genius or a sexist fan of Pam's giant knockers?
Would funny cars be half as cool without those two?
Does it fuckin' matter, either way?

Don't you wanna be there when that happened?
Don't you want to feel horsepower rattling your soul, watch the traction compound and rubber vaporize, witness the hair flip and the arm go up?
Wouldn't you be more cool, if you were there?


Bad Ass.

The Train

I ride the train nearly every day. Two hours a day, five or six times a week, I am immersed in a dirty metal tube with a cross section of humanity.

That adds up to about five hundred hours a year, on the train.

If you know me at all, I am sure you can recognize the relish I have for such an opportunity to be in such proximity with so many people, for such a protracted period of time.

Sharing each others breath. Hearing the minutiae of one another's lives.
What a glorious experience.


My transit times vary, but after a couple of years you start to notice the reoccurring characters.

Here are some of my favorites:

God Guy – Identified by his Jesus hat, t-shirts with religious themes and compulsive reading of books on faith. Somewhere, there is a place that sells all of that Jesus stuff and I have never been to it. I bet he is a nice guy (or child molester), he always looks scared to death.

God Gal – Less easily identified than God Guy, she bears a shocking resemblance to my late Uncle Doug. The Doug thing is probably why I first noticed her, as she is a very, uh, handsome woman. Balances her time on the train reading the bible and books about dealing with unruly teenage boys. Pray for her.

The Crazy Crier – She is crazy and she cries. Usually flopping onto the train at the last minute, muttering crazy talk. Should somebody be in her preferred seat, she will begin crying “I can’t sit there” while staring at the seats occupant. Guys will usually move, women are about 50/50 – some will let her stand and cry.

The Hesher – This guy isn’t a metal-head guy at all, but he has that straggley long blond hair and a Neanderthal forehead. He really should be in a band called CrypticDethWallop and draw skulls on Trapper Keepers.

Tech Chumps – A general classification, upon boarding the train they immediately pull out the Blackberry/laptop/netbook and fervently begin to do absolutely nothing. They read e-mails three or four times, hoping for new ones. They sneak into Minesweeper or Tetris, but lean so you can’t see that they aren’t about to launch the next Google. Get yourselves a Kindle, ‘cause I know you aren’t getting any work done.

Laurel and Hardy – There are two guys and two chicks, and my title applies to either pair. Fat One and Skinny One, they are able to talk about the most mind-numbingly banal bullshit, every day, for the entire train ride. The next day, the conversation picks up with any new trivial details relating to the previous days chit-chat and goes nowhere from there.

PDA Couple – More of a classification than any one couple, these folks are so in love they have to cuddle, snuggle, whisper, wipe each others tears with sweatshirt sleeves, kiss, grope, grind and so on – while on the train. They are, typically, the two least attractive people on any given train car.

The Girls of the WC – The Walnut Creek girls are like a travelling Lindsey Lohan look-a-like contest. Usually spotted in pairs, or larger groups. Giant sunglasses and skinny jeans seem to be required. Typically seen returning home from a big day of restocking their Hollister hoody assortments, Forever21 fashions and so on.

The OG’s – Another pair or group combination, this time of guys, with multi-color Dunks, goofy sweatshirts, sideways hats, saggy jeans with too much embroidered shit on the pockets as the uniform. They usually talk with each other about how awesome they are, loudly. Then they call anybody who will pickup their Sidekick, to talk about all of the awesome stuff they are doing, loudly. Yo, it is a pretty safe guess that you are not that awesome, you are on public transit. Tone it down.

The Bear – Not a regular, but a favorite, I first encountered the Bear one day when he was sitting behind me. I thought the seat behind me was empty, but no it was a hibernation location for the Bear. He announced his awakening with long series of cough/growl/hacking noises. He rose with some grunting noises, farts and started to scratching, scratching a lot, back on the side of the car, claws on exposed belly scratching. Following that, he settled into chowing on some foraged sandwich. Lips smacking, open mouth devouring of food. I love the Bear, because he will clear half a car in about fifteen minutes.


I assume that I am The Douchebag, one of The Suits or fall into some asshole classification on some other website.
I am fine with that.


I am quite capable of judging and being judged.

The Boys on the Docks

Sure, I coulda gone with the Pogues, but you get the Murph's instead.
I am not one for the obvious, ya know.

Piss on the Blarney.

This is for all of the boys on Adams Avenue, the Devlin brothers, you Boston fuckers and the skins on the MTBA...



Murphy told Quinn that his wife was driving him to drink. Quinn thinks he's very lucky because his own wife makes him walk.

An American lawyer asked, "Paddy, why is it that whenever you ask an Irishman a question, he answers with another question?" "Who told you that?" asked Paddy.

Reilly went to trial for armed robbery. The jury foreman came out and announced, "Not guilty." "That's grand!" shouted Reilly. "Does that mean I can keep the money?"

Finnegan: My wife has a terrible habit of staying up 'til two o'clock in the morning. I can't break her of it.
Keenan: What on earth is she doin' at that time?
Finnegan: Waitin' for me to come home.

Slaney phoned the maternity ward at the hospital. "Quick!" he said."Send an ambulance, my wife is goin' to have a baby!" "Tell me, is this her first baby?" the intern asked. "No, this is her husband, Kevin, speakin'."

Father Guffy roared from the pulpit to his parishioners: "The drink has killed millions -- it rots their stomachs and they die in agony. Smoking has killed millions -- it coats your lungs and you die in agony. Overeating and consorting with loose women have also killed millions." "'Scuse me, Father," hollered Reagan from the back, "but what is it that kills the people who live right?

Happy Maewyn Succat Day!

That may have been St. Patrick's born name.

Maewym Succat.

St. Succat has a pretty good sound to it, actually.

St. Succat's day.

Succat!

Maybe the church wasn't so into having a St. Succat.
It might sound less funny to them, than it does to me.


Words from the actual St. Patrick, his Declaration.

I saw a man coming, as it were from Ireland. His name was Victoricus, and he carried many letters, and he gave me one of them. I read the heading: "The Voice of the Irish". As I began the letter, I imagined in that moment that I heard the voice of those very people who were near the wood of Foclut, which is beside the western sea—and they cried out, as with one voice: "We appeal to you, holy servant boy, to come and walk among us.

Damn all of that, though, let's go drink green beer - you Blarney stone kissing, leprechaun loving, potato munching, celtic tattoo sporting, riverdancing, Bono bangers!


Eire!

Succat!

Austin

I was this [---------] close to going to Austin in April.

The Lonestar Round Up is happening, KVC was already gonna be in Kansas, Eric is there with a tattoo gun ready to dip in ink...

I don't think it's gonna happen. Hotel rooms are hens teeth, because of the Round Up.

This makes me feel worse about it...

After I Take Over the World

I will probably drive around one of these.




At least until I get the flying car thing sorted out.

Sure, it may seem sorta Darth Vader/Batman-ish.

It's not like I am going to walk around in black body armor with capes all of the time. Capes are cool, anyway.
Sometimes I will wear Naru jackets...and besides I will rule the world, so you can just shut the hell up with your snarky comments.

More details and pics over here.

I am just going to make some roads Scott-only routes, just so I don't have to deal with annoying traffic.
I will probably outfit it with some gazillion candlepower lights, a kleighorn and loudspeakers so that I might voice my concerns over your driving abilities - should we by chance meet in traffic.

Oh, I will mount some lasers because it needs some f'n lasers and missiles.

Chicken Dance

And now, for something completely different:





You just can't beat a dancing chicken.
And that chicken is really hoofin' it, too.
(Can a chicken hoof it?)
Cutting a rug.
Givin' it the old soft shoe.
However you care to describe...
I love me a dancing chicken.


The duck and the bunny really are down on talent, compared to the chicken.
I am not even sure why they were included.
I suppose it does add emphasis to the greatness of the chicken.


God, that is one fantastic chicken.

Another One?

It's Friday the 13th.

Two in a row, that has to be double spooky.

I assume there is another Friday the 13th movie released today, in addition to the one last month.
Can't get enough of those.

F100 Friday

with bonus FED...

Water

This will make ya feel pretty bad about that cup of joe.

Hair Dryer

69

69th day of the year, today.

I don't know what that means.

But you might want a patch to commemorate it.

Hysteria, Cont'd

Yeah, so I mentioned headlight stands and their relationship with the world economy yesterday.







It was a thinking day, you know, when you think about things.
That blue tape was part of the thinking, it's where the headers relate to the grill, sorta.







I think about hotrod shit and the rest of the goings on in the world.
And I didn't like the current media firestorm surrounding the economy and the headlight stands I made to go with the last grill.








So I made some new headlight stands today.
I had the other car out of the garage and some time to spend.
I was busy with that, so I didn't fix the economy.







It might make more sense with that same damned cardboard hood top I keep putting on the T.
Really, some day, I will make a proper hood.

I like these/this stand(s) a lot more - it works better with this revised nose.

The lights should flop around less, 'cause they are connected.
It seems a bit more old-timey, or period correct though I am not going for any hotrod time period here.

There are moments when I think I am pretty fuckin' cool.

But that moment has passed, there is garbage that needs to find it's way to the curb. The other car needs to get back into the garage. I need some food.

Hysteria

Yes, somebody lied.

We bought it.
Hook, line and sinker.

I have been pondering headlight stands in the garage all day, and macro-economics.

Divergent thoughts, sure, but that is how I work.
Everything is part of the whole, you know.
The locations of headlights on a Model T relate to the world in a larger sense.

I have been thinking about contemporary media and it’s impact on our current economic situation. Thinking about how our current 24-7 feed of how bleak things are impact our perceptions of the national and global sector.

It wasn’t too long ago that these folks were extolling the greatness of our situation.

If I had a stick to beat all of the people that told me “this is the greatest time to buy a house” – I would wear the stick out.

When you look into their eyes, you can see the sorrow and disbelief.
Somebody lied.
And people believed it.

And we are, perhaps, in the same situation now.
Things are bad, but they are bad in part from the same mass hysteria that generated the housing boom.
If enough folks say that the roof is on fire, you are gonna run out of the building.

As I have been thinking about headlight stands, I have been thinking about this.

There are a great number of experts who said the markets could never fail. The same people who are now saying they might never recover. And their audience still believes them.

That is the rub, for me.

I have, previously, mentioned my distaste for the irrational beliefs of constant growth planning. Really, constant growth? How is that possible?
Yet here we are, gob-smacked that things have gotten worse.
In spite of the fact that we started to believe our own untruths.

We wanted to believe in the lies that the financial “experts” were saying. If the experts believe it, who are we to argue.
But these same experts didn’t believe, as evidenced by swings driven by trivial market reporting.

The experts have demonstrated a lack of confidence by allowing their decision making to be impacted entirely by short term financial reporting.
And continue to do so.

So, sack up, financial experts – or shut up.

There are things to believe in.
But you have to believe in them.
There are industries that will be essential to the world, going forward.
I could illustrate them, but my earnest interest in them is not enough, it is our collective initiative that is required to drive any manner of recovery.
Half-witted Ponzi schemes and media driven mania are our current bailiwick.
Finding true value and investing in it are essential.
Value that contributes to both national and global health and success.

The media has not said this, in part, because the experts have not said this.
The experts won’t say it because they key off of the media, in part.
The feedback loop is continuous.
The lying is perpetuated.

I can look you in the eyes and tell you that I can make something out of a raw hunk of steel – and then do that.
Because I believe I can.
And I then do.
That force and singularity of vision is what is required to drive any recovery.
There are people and industries with that same will, that are will be the future of our economy, which deserve investment review.

I could fall in line and think that the sky is falling, the markets are crashing and the world is ending – but I won’t
The people saying those things are the same that told us all, two years ago, that we would see DOW at 40,000. They said that AIG and Citi were solid. They liked Madoff.
They believed their own lies.

When enough people tell you how great something is, it is reason to be suspect.
The Cheesecake Factory is a fine example of this phenomenon.
The Cheesecake Factory is not great.
It is marginal, at best – but they give you a shit ton of food, so people like it.
Somebody that loves a shit ton of food told their pals it was great and it went from there.

Enough people said the market was great, so everybody believed it.

Somebody lied.

I think I know what to do about the headlight stands, by the way.

History

The Savage Hippy

Ya know, the Melvins fuckin' rock.

The Savage Hippy, from their latest.

Fremont Friday Finale

A bit of the In-N-Out?

You'd like that, huh?

A bit of the old In-N-Out for you?


Also a decent burger, that also gives opportunity to make bawdy jokes like a twelve year old pervert.

The whole "secret menu" thing kinda bugs me - because they tell you there is some secret code menu, and publish it.
I guess you are supposed to commit the "secret menu" to memory.

And I remember enough to prefer my two-by-three animal style...

Dick's

They make a good burger at Dick's.

Plus you get to make all of the obvious dick jokes, when planning your trip to Dick's.


C'mon, you know you are craving Dick's.

You probably can't wait to get your hands on some Dick's.


I could go on like that hours, because I am still a juvenile.

If only they served Beaver brand mustard, at Dick's.
I presume that beyond of the culinary concerns, they choose to not use the Beaver brand solely to save themselves from folks like me.

Phew!

Boy, did you know we came this close to getting smacked by an astroid?





Sure, it is not a massive astroid, but still folks say it would have done some serious damage.
I mean if it hit a city.
It could have, alternately, started a tsunami.


We were so close to sending Bruce Willis and Ban Affleck up in a space shuttle, because when the fate of humanity is on the line people find it comforting to see familiar faces.



And those guys have acted like they know how to save the world.

Everybody agreed, we could probably do without Ben Affleck if things went wrong.

Bruce Willis always seems to make it through those tough situations, like in Die Hard or the losing of Demi Moore to that Ashton dude, so we were less worried about him. He can take care of himself.



A pretty close call...


AIG is already losing $460,000 a minute.
Just imagine if they had a bunch of claims to pay out on top of that.

Storms Ahead for Golf

I was watching CNBC last week, their show The Call with Larry Kudlow.
It has taken me some time to digest what I saw.

Larry Kudlow was incensed, outraged even, that all of this increases oversight of the financial industry was going to have a giant impact on the golf industry.




You read that right, Kudlow spent a half an hour going on about the golf industry.

It seems with all of this bail-out attention, banks and financial companies are reducing or withdrawing their sponsorship from professional golf events.

Apparently, some people think it is bad to use several million dollars of tax payer subsidy to sponsor pro golf tournaments.








Don't people realize how much networking happens at these golf tournament sponsor tents - Kudlow seethed?

Think of all of the deals that have been made at these functions.
(Never mind that the deals that were made at the last few years worth of golf tour tents has driven the world economies into the crapper.)


And then there are all of the bags and clubs, the polo shirt sales.

Folks who have outsourced all of their manufacturing count on sales of golf accessories - and are an active part of this countries economy, sort of.

Balls, think about all of the balls that go into the golfing industry.


(Think about the balls it takes to be outraged that the companies receiving billions of dollars in bail-out funds are reducing sponsorships for a golf tournament, due to pressure from tax-payers and representatives from Congress - and then spout off about it on national television.)

Larry Kudlow was fairway sprinkler of discontent.





Think about the caddies.
Those tireless teenagers, who dream of one day working the circuit as a professional looper.


Think about the market speculators who will now have to network in a significantly smaller hospitality tent with a cash bar.


Think about how all of this god-damned government oversight of where TARP funds are being spent is going to destroy the golf industry.

The golf industry, people!
This is serious.

Wanna Burger?

I am kinda craving a good burger...


Giant isn't bad for burgers.
They do make giant burgers.

Not my favorite burger, though.


The good ones are usually at the old-timey places, dives.

I had great burger at some weird golf-course diner thing, over in Okla-fornia.
But that was months ago.

Small town burgers are usually better than city burgers, I have also noticed.

There is Diablo Burger, between me and Sacto.
It is, likely, the economic center of the little town it is in.
They do make a devilishly good burger.

Joe Brown's, up in Vancouver, is the epitome of old-timey, small town dive.
They also make a good burger.
And malted milkshakes, though the staff will resent your ordering one.

Commando

Do you suppose that she is going commando, on her Commando?