Douchebags of the Week: Anyone Riding a Bike at Burning Man

Does paying $295 to spend a week roasting in the desert surrounded by modern day hippies letting their freak flags fly sound like a good time to you?

If it does, you probably aren't reading this because you're currently at Burning Man. Unless of course you've got your solar powered Macbook rigged up to the world's largest wireless Internet antenna. In that case I'm flattered by your dedicated readership but I still think you're a giant douchebag for going to Burning Man.

If you've never heard of Burning Man, here's how the organizers describe it.

Trying to explain what Burning Man is to someone who has never been to the event is a bit like trying to explain what a particular color looks like to someone who is blind.

Obviously whoever wrote that has never seen Mask. That Rocky Dennis sure figured out a way to make that happen.

It's hard to put this into words without sounding like the Unibomber but there's something that really chaps my hide about people loading up their Land Rovers with fur covered bikes to run off to the desert to eat a bunch of Ecstasy and play dirty hippie for a week.

Really, couldn't all that time, effort and money spent to go to Burning Man be put to better use saving dolphins and/or find homes for orphans? I just wonder how of many of this year's tribe are wasting a week in the desert while their SUVs sit parked with "Free Darfur" bumper stickers.

I tell you what, if the terriosts of the world ever felt like going on a mission to get some positive PR for their cause, dropping a dirty nuke or two over Burning Man would be a good place to start.

Don't believe me? Just watch the video.

Prison, Coma, or Cross Cultural Dating Experiment?

The other night, I was out for a stroll in the in the neighborhood when this pristine Trek 9800 circa 1995 stopped me in my tracks.

It's not every day you see a mid 90's Trek MTB still in a fully functional state since most of them didn't live to see the year 2000. At least the ones that were ridden the way nature intended anyway.

Oh man, this bike really floored me. On anthropological level, it's a perfect example of the long faded mountain bike boom, whose mushroom cloud of off road fun sucked me in hard back in 1993. What I really liked about this particular bike is that with the exception of the out of place White Brothers sticker on the seat tube (usually when people "upgraded" their Judy springs the sticker went on the fork to let those around know that you mean business) and the carbon fiber power sticks, there really isn't a part on this bike that was indicative of all the bad mountain bike gear of the last century.

No Girvin Flexstem, AMP Fork, or $200 purple anodized CNC'd cantilever brakes that couldn't stop a turd from rolling down a hill.

Everything on this bike is rock solid and if you look close you'll notice that nothing on this bike (except for maybe the carbon fiber power sticks) has been upgraded since 1998. You can tell by the empty cable hanger dangling from the seat clamp that this bike probably got a V-brake update in 1997. The screaming yellow Judy SL is definitely from 1997 as I had the same one on my own bike back then. And if I can recall correctly the Trek 9800 came stock with the non-colored Judy- the one where the revolutionary damping cartridge would blow out the moment the fork felt a bump for the first time.

Then finally, the WTB SST 1998 saddle is a no brainer for year and I'd put the Race Face stem at about that time too as '98 was when Race Face was starting to become a hot product south of Canadia. What I like is that this guy probably had no reason to get a new stem and had upgrade fever but not a strong enough strain to pony up to Race Face cranks.

As I finished going through the upgrade timeline on this bike, I started to get a weird feeling.

What kind of self respecting mountain biker would suddenly stop upgrading his bike after 1998?

Seriously, there's not a part this bike from the 21st century. What could have been the circumstances that prevented this guy from going through way too much trouble and expense to try and force disc brakes on to his bike?

Was he in prison?

A coma?

Or maybe, just maybe, he was a guy who hasn't touched his mountain bike in 10 years but summoned up the courage to ask the hipster receptionist at his office on a date under the pretense that he too enjoys urban cycling?

Take at the beat street mixte on the other side of the bike rack. Notice how it's sharing a lock with the Trek. Well, you can't really say sharing since the u-lock really doesn't have the chick bike on lock down since it's merely shackled around the seat post. Then again I doubt a bike thief would even bother to take the time to simply remove the seat post in order to embarrass himself by dashing off on a girl's bike.

Then look close at the Trek's chain. The entire bike is immaculate except for the rusted out chain. Has someone been keeping their bike on their balcony for a few years too long? Can the bike even shift gears?

While species cross breeding can certainly be a good thing to maintain a good gene pool, I hate to say that even if our fella played every one of his cards right, he still struck out on the night.

Because there's no way a girl is going to be in the mood after cruising around town on seat set up at such a horrific vagina busting angle.

Are you with me, girlfriends?

Can't stop the Rock

Reader December9 spotted a trio of Rock Racing guys over the weekend and he sprinted (0n foot) across a parking lot just in time to snag a couple action shots of Rock Racing doing what they do best- scoffing at the man and his stupid rules.

In this case, we've got Rahsaan Bahaiti, Freddie Rodriguez, and Rock Racing's Supreme Ruler Michael Ball * illustrating to those around them that stop lights don't exist in Rock Racing's world.

In the second photo you can see that Ball's crew at least had the decency and common sense not to go Midnight Ridazz on a Saturday morning and roll right into on coming traffic. Rather, they made a right turn on red which was more than likely a legal maneuver. But you can tell by the first photo that they hung a Reggie from the left turn lane which even on the lawless roads of Los Angeles is pretty much the Triple Lindy of douchebag moves in the Douchebag Driver's Manual.

Keep up the good work, Rock. Way to live up to your bad ass reputation.

* Just in case you were asking yourself How does he know that is was Rahsaan, Freddie, and Michael in the picture and not just three guys who each plunked down $440 for their very own Rock kit?

Well, for starters I'm just that good. And secondly, late Saturday morning I received a frantically excited phone call from a friend who had the "privilege" of being on the same stretch of road with these guys, and the first words out of his mouth were "Duuuude, Michael Ball- he's not a dick!"

Criminal Week Continues!

Over the weekend a flaming haired gent by the name of Gary Allen Lintz was arrested for allegedly starting fires in the 48oo acre tinder box known as Griffith Park.

Gary

Mr. Lintz, whose resume boasts a previous arson conviction and an impressive array of public intoxication violations was nabbed by an undercover unit as he left the scene of a freshly sparked fire by trying to blend in with a group of cyclists.

His only problem was that he didn't exactly blend in as he was dressed like an arsonist and the other cyclists were dressed like cyclists.

"Lintz stood out because he was not dressed in racing apparel. "He didn't fit in with the other bicyclers," Miller said."

As awesome as it is that the cops are out there making a difference, ol' Gary really needs brush up on his criminal skills. Not that I'm entirely versed in such matters but shouldn't a marginally sane criminal's number one goal be to not get caught? Sure, he probably thought laying down a few hundred bucks to make a proper "cyclist disguise" was a waste of beer and lighter money but that amount is chump change compared to his $75, 000 bail.

Now poor Gary's in jail staring at the ceiling and mentally kicking himself for at very least not storing his gas in one of them "bike bottles." Oh well, maybe if Gary's lucky he can tune in an episode or two of "CHiP's" on the jail house TV and get some pointers because even the dumbest of criminals were always able to make it to the end of a show before getting reeled in by Ponch and John.

Douchebag Showdown: Igor vs Tiny.

We've got an epic battle for you on your Monday. We're talking North vs South. East vs West. Methhead vs Criminally Insane. USA vs Canadia.

If you haven't heard (and I must say I'm flattered and ashamed all at once if I'm your source for breaking news) a fellow by the name of Igor was arrested in Toronto and charged with the theft of 2, 396 bicycles.

Igor

Along with "mounds of bikes" stolen from hipsters only to be sold back to hipsters. Other pieces of contraband police found in Igor's possession were: Crack cocaine, original cocaine, 15lbs of weed (thanks NY Times for converting lbs to kilos) and a stolen bronze sculpture of a Centaur and a snake in battle.

Here in Los Angeles, our version of Igor was busted about a year ago. His name is Tiny and despite stealing "only" hundreds of bicycles what he lacked in sheer volume was more than made up for in the creepiness factor.

Tiny

While Igor assembled a merry band of thieves from Tornoto's mentally ill talent pool, (I'm assuming he took advantage of the fact that crazy people are easy to manipulate) Tiny acquired his bicycles through the insatiability of a meth head's need to score more meth. His payment plan was pretty simple, steal bike get a little meth.

Unless of course Tiny was feeling a little frisky himself. Then, according to the journalistic juggernaut that is the WeHo News- “He would sit and smoke meth and force them to commit fellatio on him before he might allow them to smoke some meth,” said Dept. Yanecko.

Oh and the best part? Tiny ran a bagel shop. His jizz coated and meth seared hands were touching food.

I've never been so glad to be a donut eater in my whole life.

Any of you care to weigh in on who was worse?

Douchebag of the Week: The Venice Beach Bike Path Fascist

Good news ma'am, you're not the Venice Beach Bike Path Fascist (btw, you were going to be called a Nazi but I'm trying to not hurt the feelings of my sensitive readership) but yesterday you were the best, most glowing example of bike path fascism I could find so congratulations!

When you blew my doors off by passing me on the sand covered pavement at a high rate of speed, I must admit I had to work up an insta-sweat just to keep up with you. Since I like to consider myself as not being a douchebag, I don't have computer mounted to my beach cruiser but I am comfortable in saying that you were going fast enough that riding out on the open road would be the more practical option.

You were riding clipped in with a nice and quick cadence- so nice that you could have been a text book example of perfect form so why would you want to sully your ride by having to dodge the morons who flock to Venice Beach?

I mean really, if the beach goers who descend upon the rusty syringe filled sand to frolic in Venice's fart and hepatitis scented waters aren't morons, they're Europeans who aren't used to seeing people riding bikes like assholes. So cut them a little slack.

Come on lady, you're on the beach. Relax a little. Though I must say it was pretty funny hearing you bellow out "You gotta move it" in your surprisingly husky voice when the couple strolling their illegitimate child down the bike path paused to light their cigarettes.

What shocked me much more than your unexpected baritone was the fact that when you slowed up you coasted! WTF? You were astride a General Lee orange Masi and you had it set up with a freewheel? For shame! How do you even sleep at night? Even my mom rides a fixed gear.

Just for even having a freewheel on your bike you really can't dork your bike up any worse by adding a bell. Come on lady, there's small children around who have better things to do on a summer day than be being scared to death by the neon bike monster.

Making the non-job of bike theivery as easy as possible

Went for a stroll to a nearby Coffee Bean yesterday and the first thing to greet me was an uber-rare Canyon Ultimate CF. I took one look at the sexy carbon fiber wonderbike and my jaw nearly hit the ground. Then about half a second later my mandible got all the way to the gum speckled pavement when I realized its owner was nowhere to be found.

Well actually, I found him inside The Bean (assuming someone wasn't just wearing Lycra for the heck of it) and not even anywhere near his bike. From where he was sitting you couldn't even see the top of the saddle.

It's not every day that you see a Campy Record equipped bike that's not even available in the states treated worse than a dumpster baby but once again I'm reminded that anything is possible on the Westside.

What really chapped my hide though was this sweet bike was so new and minty fresh that the size decal was still on the back of the seat tube.

If I rode a 56 and didn't still feel guilty about the cherry tomato I once stole from a Pizza Hut salad bar in the early 80's I might have been tempted to help myself to a free bike. Instead, I grudgingly sat on the patio reading the paper and looking up every now and again to make sure nobody rode off on a bike that wasn't theirs.

Then, when our big city rube was ready to continue his ride, I tailed him all the way back to his house to see where he lived because if he's the kind of guy to leave a bike like this unlocked, then he's obviously the kind of guy who'd who'd set up his home theater system in the front yard and leave the keys his Canyonero at night.

USA! USA!

The fanny pack is where the gold medals go.

Who wears short shorts?

HE wears short shorts.

Guess there's always a first time for everything. In this particular case, it's my first time ever seeing a dude in hot pants who was just a dude wearing hot pants.

I checked him out from all sides and his hot pants weren't accessorized with a back alley boob job or a $3 wig crammed under his helmet. I shouldn't have been surprised though as this dude was riding a carbon fiber bicycle and not pushing a shopping cart like your typical transvestite hooker.

This dude was just a dude. A man's man who enjoys wearing hot pants.

I just hope someday, preferably in the not too distant future for the sake of the innocent public, this sporting chap takes a moment to check his reflection as he pedals past a giant storefront window.

Maybe if we're lucky the sun will be at its most opportune angle and this hot pants wearing dude's reflection will be bounced back to him so crystal clear he might as well be watching himself on HDTV and then, only if we're really lucky, he'll ask himself "Do my meaty thighs really jiggle that much when I pedal?"

Yes dude. Your thighs jiggle. A lot. And it's pretty gross.

Maybe sometime when you're out for a ride, you could do us all a favor and tally up how many other dudes you see wearing hot pants. Then you could take whatever shockingly low number you come up with over to your local scientist and/or zoologist and he or she could explain to you in candid scientifically backed detail all the reasons why human males shouldn't wear be wearing hot pants.

My guess is "it's just wrong" would be at the top of the list.

Douchebags of the week: The Crimanimalz

On one level you've gotta look at the Crimanimalz and think to yourself, "Self: America has come pretty far if the only worthwhile thing left for "activists" to protest is being treated unfairly at Critical Mass."

But then you realize that this alleged "mistreatment" didn't occur on the rough and tumble dog eat dog streets of New York or San Francisco but on the breezy boulevards of Santa Monica.

That's right. Santa Monica. Bitch, please.

Even thought its most famous landmark is a Ferris Wheel overlooking the ocean, the land of Jack Tripper, is actually an oppressive police state with the 3rd St. Promenade doubling as Tiananmen Square on Critical Mass nights.

While riding on the freeway might have been somewhat cool but ultimately lacking in the testicles department as riding amongst parked cars isn't all that dangerous, the butt hurt Crimanimalz elevated their game to new low by staging a protest against the tyrannical SMPD by clogging a crosswalk and causing a traffic jam much to the dismay of innocent bystanders just trying to get somewhere on a Friday night.

Next time you go into battle Crimanimalz, please, do us all a favor and try to be a little steadier with the camera.

Bicyclists Strike back at Santa Monica
Uploaded by thepeoplesride

What's lamer than riding your bike on the sidewalk?

Riding your recumbent on the sidewalk, natch.

Be sure not to miss the seatbag/cooler combo.

Douchebag of the Week: Kate Hudson

Riding a bike, drinking an iced coffee and not watching where she's going. Nice

Please, feel free to stop for a sip of water in the middle of the bike path. That's never annoying to anyone else on a bike. Besides, Kate, you're a celebrity. That bike path should feel honored that you're riding it.

What kind of mom are you, Kate? Way to set a good example with your lack of helmet. I won't even mention the torment that you caused the poor guy in the photo with you.

But then there's the issue with your recent boyfriend who was also this fella's friend. Whatever two month hell you put him through, it was obviously enough for him to consider coming out of retirement to compete in the Leadville 100 to be a better option than hanging out with you.

Nobody tells the Wu Tang Clan where to ride.

Took a little stroll along the concrete beach boardwalk yesterday. I was minding my own business and enjoying the breezy day when I was snapped to attention courtesy of the horrific sound of a skidding fixed gear wheel.

Seems this guy (the one with the arrow pointing him out) was in such a hurry to make his delivery, (because only bike messenger would need to wear a Chrome bag the size of a studio apartment, right?) he couldn't be bothered with the hassle of having to ride his bike on the bike path that was located a mere 10 feet from the pedestrian only walk way.

Five minutes later I found his bike shackled in front of a bar. Hmm... maybe Big Enos and Little Enos made a bet with him regarding a case of Coors? Too bad we'll never know though, because I don't think someone who goes through the trouble to make their fixed gear a Wu Tang Clan bike would be any good at holding up his end of the conversation.

I wonder of RZA approves?

Douchebags on the YouTube...

Searched for "douchebags on bikes" on the You Tube and was greeted by the following nuggets of joy.



Thanks to this handy cultural dissertation I'm beginning to understand the point of even posting this video. While I attempt to dissect its deeper meaning, I shall light a candle in honor of the noble bicycle mechanic who had to ruin this mail order happy chap's day with the dire news that building wheels costs actual money.

Now this next one's just creepy. I'm going to go out on a limb and a moment such as this is step one on the path to becoming a serial killer.



However, I do like that the driver/cameraman/commentator had the foresight to stop the camera before the light changed. Not only does it add an air of mystery to clip but most importantly a possibly very key piece of evidence simply doesn't exist.

"No officer, I didn't run over the cyclist, I was merely talking about running him over as you can see by this video clip. I only taped him and shared my thoughts on the matter because, as I believe you'll agree with me, it's pretty stupid make an ass of yourself by wearing a safety vest only to run red lights."

Finally, thanks to the magic of the You Tube's related videos column, I stumbled upon this little gem. Suddenly, seeing a dude in his sister's jeans riding a pursuit bike on the sidewalk can now be thought of as a beacon of hope for better future and not as a sign that the end is near.

So long as granny is still alive and shootin' anyway.

Douchebag of the Week: Dr. Christopher Thompson

While the good Dr. Thompson most likely hasn't ever been on a bike, at the very least he's had a bike on and a cyclist in his car thanks to being the instrumental cog in an "alleged" road rage incident that happened in Los Angeles' Mandeville Canyon this past 4th of July.



Well, the douchebag move of the century got Dr. Thompson an arraignment in court today. While he wasn't making any statements, he did have a publicist on hand to artfully dodge questions and plead for the death threats against Dr. Thompson to come to a halt.

Please people, even though Dr. Thompson "allegedly" tried to kill a couple people, death threats aren't nice.