pilderwasser

720mm = 1 country mile

Action Figure Freud:  "What’s up Bobby Bobble Head? You get to go for a ride with that well placed zip tie. Round and Round. While I’m stuck in this little free fucking library with two screws, phillips and star-drive too. No Freudian slips here. Horseshit. Lips. Lisp. Slip. Slips. Lippy. Slippy. Tippy. Tipsy. Tips."  

Bobble Head Freud: "Be careful what you wish for bro. Chill out. Have another cigar. Bend your elbow. Turn your head. Bend your other elbow."  

Around about 15 years ago Sally Claus sent me this Raleigh Port Townsend. Shipped it directly, did he, to Mad Fiber as a Christmas present early. When Sally was Raleigh. Raleigh was Sally.

It’s been kicking around here ever since. The only OE thing left is the headset. Multiple handlebar combinatorial configurations continue on with this bull-moose Still Cruisin' bar made by Nitto and brought to you and me too by SimWorks. As you know, the dream of the 60’s, 70’s, 80’s & 90’s is alive in Portland. Rip City. PDX.

This handlebar recently rolled into my garage and today I installed it with some SunTour levers, cables & housing and OURI grips.

Somewhere in that there nip & tuck session a strategically placed zip tie went between bobblehead Sigmund’s lips and on around the front hub. It will allow intentional Freudian slips. Clockwise and or counterclockwise too, depending on your point of view. 

Why? 

You might ask. 

Why not? 

I might say. 

This bar is 720mm of steel reminding me to chill out, shut up and enjoy the ride. Thanks Sally. Thanks Nitto. Thanks SimWorks. 

you can read all about the Still Cruisin'...

I wasn’t exactly sure why these tepid milquetoast haikus bothered me so much. Then the big boss told me they were AI generated.

The robot was only concerned with staying within the parameters, counting syllables with beige safe word choices. A complete lack of feeling or emotion. Vapid.  No sounds or smells or anything that occurs in nature. Less authenticity than the nacho cheese pump at 7-11.

There’s a growth unfolding in the back of my throat, maybe it's a haiku... 

this is a haiku I would be proud to stick on the side of my electric ass bathtub

Sweater Weather

and or

Trippin Balls

They say denial is the first stage. But I find myself flying through stages six, seven, eight and on into nine, still trying to play my denial card. All along the way the cashiers say, “I’m sorry sir, your denial card has been denied” 

You may have noticed I’m doing a lot of looking back these days. Perhaps it’s because the here & now is so so fucked. A total shit show. So so fucked.  

I’m looking back at times I can manufacture and manipulate in my head, adjusting the hue, to create a picture, however contrived, that’s a bit more comforting than current events. It’s my own special phantom nostalgia syndrome. It makes sense because I made it make sense. 

Like Kurt Vonnegut said

EVERYTHING 

WAS

BEAUTIFUL

AND

NOTHING

HURT

I can’t even begin to talk about the FUCKED UP shit that fills the so-called news these days. Maybe it’s because I took some Tylenol and now I’m autistic. 

Moving forward 

Looking back 

Retrospect

Watching Matt Messenger sell weed to each and every attorney in need right there in their very own law firm mailroom 

Buying acid from Pip...

Roz Chast from the New Yorker

the 9/22/25 issue is a great one featuring TC Boyle, Rachel Kushner and much much more including this cartoon which actually made me laugh out loud. That LOL thing is a very rare thing for me in 2025. 

If you've ever heard me string together the words HOW WAS YOUR WEEKEND in the form of a question, you know it's sarcastic. It's a joke. It's horseshit. Because I don't care about your weekend. If I did, I'd ask. But I do not. I don't. I will not. I won't. 

I never learned to play the idle chit-chat game, to pretend to care about things I don't care at all about. Inane conversation about nothing. Perhaps if I could pretend to hold that ability I'd have a high-paying office job and I could stand around in the break room and babble on about my big plans for the weekend. 

h o r s e shit

however, if you actually had a nephew and he got into Tufts, I would stop what I was doing and look you in the eye and encourage you to finish your story. 

There are...

I rolled through Cool Guy park this morning at 6:07am 

It did not look like this

But I'll cling to old memories of Cool Guy in my phantom nostalgia delusional ways

First things first

Jumbo baked potato

Just say no

Mutually assured destruction

Supply side economics

Trickle down theory

Trust but verify

Actor turned politician

Win win situation

Checks and balances

Out the window

Head set press

Crown race installer

Fingernail polish remover

Essential wine aerator 

Crusty old messenger

Highly trained professional 

Used car salesman

Child support payment

Dead beat dad

King County Superior

Law school aptitude

Old boy network

Adjunct professor emeritus

In title only

Happy little accident

Fish head soup

Tastes like chicken

Finger lickin good

Inter office memo

Extra marital affair

High school cheerleader

Naked boot leg

Left handed pitcher

Bare foot kicker

Kick return specialist

On the spectrum 

Special needs child

Plays mean pinball

New and improved 

Bottle cage bolt

Video cassette recorder

Original unsigned order

Down hill coast 

Talk show host

Irritable bowel syndrome

Food borne illness 

Rocket propelled grenade

Night vision goggles 

Post traumatic stress

Stand up bass

Firm hand shake

One trick pony

Two by four

Three for three

Turtle neck sweater

Lower back tattoo

Non fat decaf 

Loose ball bearing

No tongue piercing

Fork or chopstick

Paper in plastic

Stone temple pilot

Full suspension disbelief

Def Leppard sticker

Fresh ground pepper

Breast reduction...