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2007/04-Most Recent: Old 's

"All the New's Too Old to Print!"

Please read WARNING below.                                                       Whoops! TOO FUCKING LATE!

WARNING: If strong language offends, please leave this site NOW.

Please read WARNING above.                                                       Whoops! TOO FUCKING LATE!


by Dan McNeilly (Palletman)

Dangerous Dan Sullivan on Saturday finished, I think, about 10th place in a field sprint in the Masters 55+.

On Sunday, Dangerous again finished in 10th position, and he wants everyone to hear this: "On an up-hill finish!"

Joe Straub, on Saturday at least, finished sitting on his bike, which was really some accomplishment, because there was a massive crash on the downhill finish. I'm not sure of his placement. At least he's alive.

On Sunday, Joe attempted three separate breakaways, none of which stuck. He was out of gas for the field sprint.

Kevin Haley cramped up on Saturday, and I don't know his placement, but on Sunday he finished 5th in the Masters 45+ winning $100.00.

I finished first on Saturday in the Cat 4/5 35+. I attempted a break with 2.5 miles left, and another rider went with me. I soon realized we weren't gaining enough on the field, so we both sat up and waited for the field sprint. Then I purposely jumped early, sensing that the field might think I was going too early.

It was a downhill finish, so my legs felt good, and I was glad I had sat up during my breakaway attempt.  Otherwise, I don't think I would have had the same result.


Editor's Note: Next time you might like to mention the name of the race. A link to their website wouldn't hurt much either. Just because we've got the big-time brand name of American Road Cycling, that doesn't mean we know shit.


REPORT FROM THE FRONT: Rumor has it Palletman won his race, way the fuck up north in Sashitspitoon, MA, or somewhere like that. He WON! In an away game! Not that anybody who has been following his antics is much surprised. Stay tuned for details.



Trans fat my A$$!

Yesterday FG awarded Princess Cranky Pea her very own box of doughnuts. We think it was because Cranky is such a trouble maker, but we're not sure. Of course we know that Cranky is a world class trouble maker, but we are not clear on the nexus with the doughnuts.

In any case, The Black Widow happened upon a chance to snap this photo of Cranky with her prize. At first we thought she was hiding the doughnuts from everybody, but then we realized she was actually struggling with them in an attempt to keep them from finding their final resting place.

Good luck, Cranky. Keep on trying.

SlingShot once heard a comedian describe doughnuts as a regenerative food. That is to say, after you eat them they return to there original shape—a large inner tube around the belly.

NOTE TO DUMBERTO: In answer to your question, the DK in DKNY, as in DKNY/Stinkature Silos, stands for: Donkey Kong.

This morning it looks like the Widder 'n me are riding with the Donkey Kong Neutered Youth Race Team. The rest of you better get over to [rider's name stricken].


by: Nuclear Dan Buckley

Hi Bob,

After the Hump today, you asked me to send you an email about the ride. You said you were too hammered to think and wouldn't remember a thing I was saying. Well, you did look a little bit wasted, so here's the refresher.

I’ll start at the bottom of Ridgebury Road, because that’s where the fun began.

I was with the front group when we made the left turn and started up the hill. I was situated near the front of the pack with General G Douglas Allen in front of me and Twin George beside me. I felt I was in a good spot.

The pace slowly increased, and I was passed by several riders. I watched the gap grow wider and wider, but all I could do was go as hard as I could...which wasn’t good enough.

As I crested the hill, I saw there was the pack, a gap, then me. I continued to work hoping someone would come by, so I could jump on their wheel.

Then, like a voice from Heaven, “Nice job. Now, get over.”

I pulled to the left to let the voice by but was surprised to see it was not one but three other riders.

I drifted to the back for a much needed rest.

I can only speak for myself, but I think the others would agree, we rode our hearts out. We kept the main pack in sight most of the ride.

A curious thought occurred to me during the ride. I looked at our group and realized there was not one “spring chicken” among us—just lots of gray hair.

I took a survey to find out the age of my compatriots.


Age in years

Skylands John 63 (and cancer survivor)
Catskill John 61
Toe Clip Guy 49
Nuclear Dan (me) 51



After the ride The Black Widow and Poor Latrine thought I tried to use this information as some sort of excuse for not finishing with the front group. They must have thought I was trashing them about their five mile shortcut due to their tandem excuses: “I’m sick,” and “I’m itchy.”

The bottom line is this, with the caliber of riders showing up for the Hump these days, I’ve come to the conclusion that my days finishing with the front group are long gone.

What I’m trying to say here is that there are many great riders of all ages showing up for the ride. None of us need any excuses, if we give it all we have and leave it all on the course.

Thank you John, John and Toe Clip Guy for the great ride.

For 40 miles, 21 mph average!


Sprint Recap: Turns out General G Douglas Allen won today's sprint. [rider's name stricken] was just about to go for it, when he realized he was stuck behind Twin George, who was merely looking back and smiling at him.



Arctic Paul Labrie: Pre-Hump
Paul leads the Tuesday Sterling Forest ride.

Like we said before, photos are chosen based on The Black Widow got lucky. Today she got lucky with only one. However it is one for the ladies, so here it is. Easy now, Cranky.



Good morning! It is Hump day.

Reminder: Tomorrow there is a [rider's name stricken] from Monroe, through Harriman, etc.

Saga Continues: The saga of the breakdown of the ARC website usage tracking continues. There are now more than a dozen people visiting the site just like Palletman. That is to say, with obscene compulsiveness throughout the day. Also, the number of UV's has outstripped the Known Viewers, plus their numbers are steadily growing.

Before SlingShot finally tosses his logs review process into the wood chipper, and starts writing whatever the fuck he wants, he sends a message of apology to all the people who were sent repeatedly back to Thursday's ride photo page.

SlingShot inadvertently caused it to happen, because there were additions made to that page after a bunch of people already saw it, and he figured people would not want to miss the updates. So he put a shitload of repeat links on the home page.

Previously, he has watched people miss their own stories, photos, slandering, etc. merely because they showed up a little late, or they failed to follow their usual habits and click over to where he expected them to go. Apparently he overcompensated this time and watched in horror as people hit the photo page several times.


Otherwise, the Thursday ride was very special to the Shot. He was able to stay in the ride, because this time of year the ride goes along the mostly flat Crazy 8's course, and people are generally fat the fuck out of shape. In a few weeks the ride will be longer and steeper, and people will be in better shape, so they'll be back to dropping his ass on the nearest available matter how pretty he tries to look.

SlingShot is hoping to have a good Hump this morning. He'll be making his last ditch effort to not look like a loser. Everything should be alright, if Toe Clip doesn't lose his fucking mind again and push the pace up out of control before the Jolly Onion, like he did last week. It's not so bad watching Toe Clip take his own knuckleheaded self out by being stupid, but why take SlingShot with him? Maybe The Black Widow will be back in the game and be able to pull like she should.

If only SlingShot were strong  enough to ride in the back.

[rider's name stricken]: In addition to the [rider's name stricken] going out tomorrow, it has come to the attention of American Road Cycling that this [rider's name stricken] has been inspecting the photos from Thursday's ride with an unseemly attention to detail.




Yes, I do think it will help. You'd just better hope I don't stretch out the other one.

One more, as we sweep up the cutting room floor.



What? What?!

The Black Widow grabs one off the cutting room floor.



Read about Parveen below, then click over for more photos.



At tonight's Thursday Trail Side ride, Parveen showed up (turns out she's real) and asked if there would be any Pokers going out on the trail.

On the spot, seven double AA men claimed to be Pokers, but The Black Widow kicked all their asses and made them go out with the A/B ride.

We're guessing there will be no dearth of Pokers showing up for rides the remainder of the summer.

Our suggestion is that Pokers better show up soon. By the looks of things, Parveen will be moving up through the ranks in short order.




Yesterday we posted a little bit more about grammar issues in an attempt to scare off newbies. That didn't really work out so well.

There is a continuing swell of readership. In fact, some IP#'s are showing up that haven't been here in months. It must be the weather.

In any case, SlingShot is all nervous and worried. It is one thing for his little bullshit website to be humorous to a few insiders who understand the history of it, but quite another thing when so many people start showing up that he can no longer keep track of who's who.

This site is on the brink of an untrackable breakdown, that is to say, if one might hope to have anything resembling a life outside of staring at website usage logs all day.

In addition, there is the small matter of the possibility ( it is a probability) that a number of people are arriving here actually expecting to get something out of it...such as, "Where's a good ride?" which appears to be something that is on a lot of people's minds recently.  They are all clicking over to the GROUP RIDES page as soon as they finish reading the Home Page, Old New's and the Chatter Box.

This current situation has given SlingShot a touch of agita plus a good swift kick in the guilties. Fun is fun, but when people start showing up here looking for rides and can't find them...well that sucks.

Therefore, SlingShot pulled out an old posting of the Thursday Trail Side ride, which is an %#!$ evening ride, dusted it off and published it on the GROUP RIDES automated index.

But that's just a stop gap.

Although there is a clear link to all the %#!$ rides on each and every GROUP RIDES page, all the new arrivals seem to have missed the link and have not clicked over. Unfortunately, that means they missed publication of a lot of good rides, because Palletman was previously persuaded to not double his effort by posting rides on this website already published over at %#!$.

To avoid such a horrible circumstance in the future (after all, it is not our fault everybody chooses to come here instead of there), if anybody has a ride they wish to publish, but do not want to figure out how to do it themselves (which is not so hard using the RIDE CHOICE SOFTWARE), merely put the particulars in a QUERY FORM and submit it to SlingShot.

This is a limited time offer, but SlingShot will try to put it together for you. Just don't expect him to go through repeating all the great work P'man has already accomplished by taking all the %#!$ listings off the %#!$ site and transferring them over here.

To repeat, it is not our fault people are choosing to come here instead of over there. We understand it, but it is still not our fault.

SlingShot ain't about to go to the trouble of repeating Palletman's postings over here. SlingShot may be an idiot but not a total one. He just can't figure out why so many people have started showing up from Texas. Maybe that UV from Plano got it started, but SlingShot thought Lance was out of the biz.



This morning the onslaught of new readers running all 'round this website continues. We'll see if the following can get rid of them.

SlingShot finally found an error in the Strunk and White book, The Elements of Style. It took a little while to find, because it was obfuscated under the book's own logic.

At first it merely sent SlingShot into a whirl of lookups and wonderment all over the web and throughout his own reference library here at American Road Cycling Central.

During the buildup, SlingShot did not even realize he was searching for the answer to an error. He thought he was just trying to understand a slightly obscured logic.

A large part of SlingShot's difficulty in finding it was this: Turns out the error was couched in the book's own logic by virtue of Page 6 including an instance of comma usage (in this case non-usage to be more precise) which directly contradicted a firmly stated rule on Page 5.

The convoluted nature of the error was only exasperated by the fact that it was found on Page 6, whereas SlingShot generally finds errors somewhere within the introduction, if not on the very first page of most published books.

In order to provide readers with their own exciting quest, we are not divulging the details here. All you smart asses can figure it out for your own selves. But here's a hint: the problem centers around Strunk's lack of distinguishing between coordinating and subordinating conjunctions, especially in cases where a given conjunction may function syntactically as both. However, the instance of error is clearly an error even if both situations had been addressed. Fun stuff.

The full explanation will be part of an upcoming article about why American Road Cycling has been such a success.

There. That should get rid of all the newbies. Now the rest of us can get back to riding our bikes and trashing each others' character.

This is really turning out to be SlingShot's lucky year.

Paul has a massive coughing-fit cold. Nuclear Dan is totally focused on his races, plus he just spent the weekend moving a few tons of some shit or another around someplace or another for a friend or something, so his back is all the fuck, fucked up. Zirra is somewhat under control, though he appears to be hanging out with some people who are going to make him a lot faster than we would like. BLASTER has drunk himself into a fat-ass frenzy. Cranky Mary Beth wasted the whole winter on her stationary trainer. FG is disappeared from the planet. Hernando has requested a blackout on Hernando trashing until he can kick all your asses again. Toe Clip has run off to play with the front group, even though he still lacks understanding of just how fucking fast he truly is. P'man is winning races in Sussex, so he is  just as happy to leave SlingShot alone. Kevin Shithead Haley has been renom'd Kevin Douchbag Haley. Twin Lynn is still Twin Lynn, leaving rides early, now retired to the B's. Bianchi has his butt on fire. Brand New Bruce has come to rest on his Winter Hump laurels. Joe Straub is busy kicking people's asses somewhere up north. Dr. Artie Art, Artie Art Donohue is busy cracking seized up jointatures. Petie Pete, Petie KaKa, Peter Cotsis has given up looking at his scale. Nurse Betty is off studying to become Nurse Betty. The Black Widow has a world class yeast infection that Nuclear Dan has suggested could be made better if SlingShot numbed it: num, num, num, num, num...but SlingShot chooses not to. Dangerous Dan is off pulling Advil girls back to the front group. Doug is still trying to help riders in distress. Etc.

Plus, Turtle Boy Humberto Cavalheiro is back in good enough shape to appreciate a slow recovery ride.

During all this, SlingShot actually heard Twin George breathing on Rte 1 during last week's Hump. It was a peak moment in SlingShot history—a personal best of sorts.

What a great year.


No Kevin Haley!


Firstly, we have to make amends and apologize. Recently we have been calling Kevin Haley Shithead. The offshoot of that has been for some otherwise very fine people to find it impossible to say his name without it coming out, "Kevin Shithead Haley."

We never intended to get that started and are sorry. A complaint has been lodged, so we are taking appropriate action. Everybody make a note that nobody is to ever call Kevin Shithead Haley, Kevin Shithead Haley again.

In order to make it up to Kevin, in the best way possible, from now on he is not to be called Kevin Shithead Haley, but the more appropriate and truthful Kevin Douchebag Haley.

We are sorry, Kevin, and hope you accept this remedy of past transgressions, so we may avoid firing SlingShot.

We also apologize to Rich Cruet, The Bicycle Doctor for putting bad shit in his head.

With the Shithead Douchebag affair behind us, we can take a look at lessons learned.

The girls like it. SlingShot doesn't. (Yes, it's Humberto: now very un-Turtle-like.)


From SlingShot

Note To Kevin Douchebag Haley: Dear Kevin, yesterday Paul and I went out with Humberto and got the information you requested.

Here is the secret to getting Humberto to pull.

Find a long relatively easy hill and keep the speed under 10 mph. You really have to concentrate to hold the pace, but eventually Humberto will crack, go to the front and pull.

Unfortunately, he will also keep circling back behind you.

Apparently, pulling is not in his character.

Paul almost blew the experiment, but I stayed on his wheel and kept whispering, "Patience, Paul...patience. He'll crack. I'm sure of it."

I almost blew it myself, but happily I was riding most of the ride with a flatted rear tire. I'm pretty sure I did the same thing day before yesterday in Harriman, but at these speeds it just feels normal to me.

Note to Self: Remember not to go out for a ride on a flatted tire with Humberto.

Additional Note to Self: Probably better not to ever go out with Humberto under any circumstances.

Final Note to Self: Except—running into Verge, going the opposite direction, is a happier occurrence if Humberto holds point a hundred yards off the front. Verge is not so likely to turn around and attack if you bring your muscle with you, that is to say, if you are packing heat.

You can easily test this thesis by shooting the bird to all of Verge in passing, just to see if the Humberto magic is strong. It is.

Massive Viewer Increase Update: Recently there has been a massive increase in the number of new viewers coming to the American Road Cycling website and browsing through old articles. These people are obviously new (not just old people with new IP#'s), because the regulars only ever hit a couple of the main attractions. They have all long ago read the old stuff through several times, but these new people are all over the place.

One theory is that the new people were attracted here by the recent overflow of bad words on 04/22/07 which read:

Yesterday, everybody apparently mistook this website for the worthless backwoods motherfucking cocksucking shitfarting poopydrawers #### club site, which is always so buttlicking slow at posting important stuff that there's no need to go looking for anything new on it. This is not to mention that the associated "newsletter" of that lowly fuck faced #### club has become nothing more than a repository for plagiarized flotsam and jetsam of the cycling world, or so I'm told. I don't read it.

It is a sad day in American Road Cycling to think this obvious appeal to baser instincts would be the one thing that has done most to bring newbies onboard.

In fact, that sort of language is used here merely to point out the stupidity of worrying about it, while one overlooks the truly obscene things that get said throughout the world on any given day. Such as this, which is the most obscene statement I have ever heard (cover your ears):

It is warm and the sun is out, but I have pressing engagements, so I'm not getting on my bike today.

Disgusting! Get off this website, shut down your computer, turn off the TV, get that fucking doughnut out of your mouth, and go out for a ride.

This site ain't about bad words: it's about good rides.





BLASTER Jim Amels awards The Black Widow
her own special brew which on closer inspection
proves to be appropriate in ways unimagined.

If she drank it, the description would scarcely do justice to the outcome.





Godzilla prepares for yesterday's
Harriman Extravaganza

We would show you what he proceeded to do to SlingShot, but it's not a pretty picture.



DKNY/Stinkature Silos (Joe Straub) had a first place finish in the Cat 3/4 Crit held today in Rahway, NJ.

Time to review that rollover 04/21/07 (below) one more time.



Yesterday, everybody apparently mistook this website for the worthless backwoods motherfucking cocksucking shitfarting poopydrawers #### club site, which is always so buttlicking slow at posting important stuff that there's no need to go looking for anything new on it. This is not to mention that the associated "newsletter" of that lowly fuck faced #### club has become nothing more than a repository for plagiarized flotsam and jetsam of the cycling world, or so I'm told. I don't read it.

In any case, a bunch of people missed their new photos from yesterday's Hump (with their rollover text blurbs) that were posted within a few hours after the ride.

To avoid such things being overlooked in the future, we've added a new PHOTO DIRECTORY page, and put a permanent link at the bottom of the TODAY IN AMERICAN ROAD CYCLING section below. It looks like this:


We've also included a link button to the photo directory on the newly formatted buttons which appear at the top and bottom of this section. Those buttons have been streamlined to follow the most common browsing habits of ARC visitors. A link to OLD NEW'S was added to the buttons to make it conveniently available at the top and bottom of the daily articles.

Yesterday's daily article below, with the Joe Straub and Cranky rollovers, has been held over one more day because everybody seemed to enjoy it so much.

Big ride with Turtle Boy and Zirra today. My ass is kicked already, and I haven't even gotten out of bed yet.

Hot off the wires.



Shit! If Mary was any good, I'd have gotten titties.

American Road Cycling's
Competitor of the Month
at Bethel



My liege, thy welst deservéd spoils of war from your humblest of servants. Men, men, men, men…

The Black Widow is shown awarding Cranky Mary Beth Henderson her Winter Hump Series 2007 T-shirt. It was awarded for Mary Beth's better than SlingShot SlingShottings posted in the Chatter Box. It is the World's only known literary cycling award. For insight into the difference between men and women's sports see the rollover. We publish it as a public service.




Just when I thought it was over, just when I believed the recent gunplay in academia had put the whole Imus thing behind us, American Road Cycling received the following e-mail:

Hello Bob&Mary,

Since Bob is a fan of Imus as am I , thought he might like this. He probably knows this already.

Take care,

Of course, this most recent e-mail reverts us back to our main cause célèbre. The name of the e-mailer has been removed to protect them from receiving undue negative attention as a result of their submittal.

The e-mail above contained a quoted copy of an internet zine article that discusses the travesty of justice its author sees in the firing of Imus, fired in large part because of statements made by Al Sharpton.

The article reviews the Tawana Brawley case, along with numerous other reprehensible acts perpetrated in the past by Sharpton himself. One notable item was the judgment against Mr. Sharpton to the tune of $345,000 for his slandering of Stephen Pagones during the Tawana fiasco, which fine Al never paid, and for which slander he has never apologized.

The article, as a whole, has the ring of truth, and the events it refers to, at least those that I can recall, appear to be reported correctly. Unfortunately, the text is quite long and rarely funny, so I ended up skimming to make sure I could make a determination and write about it.

Before everybody gets started in on me for being lax, please consider that I am only following the process that got Imus fired in the first place. Like everybody else, I am drawing profound conclusions based on a quick glance at what appears to be valid information. I only hope to promote my already settled opinion into the heads of others the best way I can.

In any case, it is quite clear to me that Al Sharpton is NOT responsible for Imus' firing. After all, Al is just being Al. We have all watched him over the years, and nobody is surprised by his position.

Sharpton is an acknowledged racist, however, the work he does is so important, he is always forgiven.

Anybody who thinks the world has been cleansed of racism since the 1960's is a total moron. Having Mr. Sharpton running around screaming about inequality is more or less an absolute necessity. It's a tough job, but somebody's got to do it.

The true villains in the Imus affair are the jerk-off advertisers, the shithead news anchors, and the media pundits in general who couldn't even bring themselves to say, "Stupid? Yes. Actionable bigotry? No way. Imus is NOT a racist. Did his comments come from a rich cultural history of bigotry and hatred? Of course. Were they funny? Pretty much... unless you happened to be somebody's grandmother, or mother, or friend, or relative, or acquaintance, etc., plus somebody else assured you the "Nappy headed ho" comment was meant to be serious. Thoughtless? Of course. Sorry? Certainly. Case closed? Yes. Be more careful, please."

Unfortunately, everybody has their own iron in this fire. That time slot appears to be much sought after. It is not likely other msnbc personalities are going to risk their own bid to grab it for themselves by stating rational truth.

As an example, Soledad was absolutely giddy over the prospect of her main competitor on another channel in the same time slot being scuttled so easily. Not since Soledad was forced by msnbc to talk to the animated character, Dev, has her nose been so obviously disjointed, but this time she was on another network, and she was almost laughing out loud.

Also, did you really expect the "News Bunnies" (as Imus correctly termed them previously) on his own network to do anything other than cheerlead his demise?

In any case, it seems a lot of people have forgotten that Al Sharpton has long ago proven himself a worthy idealist.

I clearly remember the undying respect I gained for Al when he went down to Cuba, Haiti, or somewhere, got embroiled in a protest over the opening of some US Air Force Base, Gitmo, or something, got thrown in jail for it, went on a hunger strike that caused a bunch of tittering smiles up here for his temerity in doing so, then finally came out of his stint in the slammer—70 lbs lighter!

Do you have any idea how hard it is to take off that much weight?


That man has the cajones to hold on to his convictions.

Of course, I snickered with everybody else when I heard Sharpton was on a "hunger strike"; but, when I saw the svelte result, I was a believer on the spot. That was no small feat. I mean, he was stuck in jail. He wasn't going out on daily 50 mile road cycling loops in the mountains. Plus, I doubt they gave him a food scale for him to weigh everything he put in his mouth.

The irony was that Al proved himself to be no lightweight by becoming a lightweight. Not to mention, as they say, "He's kept the weight off."

Just because Al is totally wrong in this most recent crusade that doesn't mean we can throw the rest of his career on the junk heap. After all, it's not like he's an Imus or anything.

Besides, the problem here is with the idiots who decided this was their moment to actually listen to Sharpton. Nobody in their right mind takes him seriously. I mean, really. Have you ever once seen him hanging-in with the front group on Ridgebury?

Here's a link so you can read the full article from the e-mail. Be advised that it is long and boring. Otherwise, don't forget that very few opinions are ever made by careful reading of such material.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot about our cause célèbre.

The reason I removed the name of the sender of the e-mail above, is because they fucked up two commas. We cannot tolerate such shit.

The line:

Since Bob is a fan of Imus as am I , thought he...

should be:

Since Bob is a fan of Imus, as am I, thought he...

One comma left out, the second one preceded by an incorrect space. Otherwise, the subject omitted in the same clause is attributed to an attempt to write in a colloquial voice, such as in my own sentence just previous to the one you are reading now, so it passes.

Please don't ask who made these horrible errors. I will go to my grave with their name as my secret. Shame on them, unless they were counting on me to edit it for them, which I guess is likely.

Editor's Note: I hope readers will accept my apology for never calling Al "reverend," because I come from a part of the world (The Bible Belt) where anybody can become a reverend merely by saying that they are one and getting a couple of people to believe it.

No seminary school, no course work in world religions, no papers written about the logical basis of theological argument, no overview of art, literature, and gangsta street poets in general.


All it takes is, "I'm a reverend because god told me I'm one."

Most TV preachers got their credentials that way, especially the ones you hear the most about. Not that their seminaries do much of that other stuff anyway.




OK so here is the deal-

I am planning on doing 4 hours in and around Harriman, Sunday 22, starting about 10 am or so.

Two friends are coming up, and I would love to ride with you guys.

Are you available?

Call me on my cell: 609-273-7202



Absolutely! We'll meet you at Paul's.



Bitch has got her shoulder up to my sphincter. I can't tell my ass from her elbow!
Watch me make Mini Me talk
without moving my lips!



Held over
for a day
of home



Sometimes a person happens through your life briefly and leaves a lasting impression. Later something may happen which brings attention to how special they were to everyone else whose lives they touched. Sometimes is always too short.

drawing by
Caitlin Hammaren - 1994


SLINGSHOT ATTACKED BY GOOGLE: This morning, SlingShot was going through the web logs when he noticed that someone had arrived at the American Road Cycling website by way of a Google search for: "Essence Carter."

Seeing such search criteria caused SlingShot to fall on the floor in a paroxysm of paroxysms.

He immediately knew that this could not be the typical situation where somebody googles their own name to get here, because Essence Carter is certainly far too busy with her mid-terms, her orchestra rehearsals, her basketball practice, her running of laps, and the like, to be wasting time online. 

All of you who were college athletes will understand, without the need for review, how unlikely it is for a single moment to be available to Essence away from classes and practice.

SlingShot can just hear one of her professors saying, "Ok, I know you've been in the news, you've got reporters harassing you night and day, people are hounding you for endorsements. Still, your paper on Divergence from Pure Tonality in Half Cadenzas after the Fall of the Baroque Counterpoint is due today! And I want a full bibliography this time. I don't want to hear about how you had to stay over in the gym to wrap your ankle either. You don't want to risk your 4.0, do you?"

It's not like Rutgers is a well known party school for jocks.

So SlingShot immediately focused on the likely and horrid alternate possibility, "What if Essence' grandmother just got her first computer and was looking up stories about her athlete, musician, academic star granddaughter?"

She gets to American Road Cycling, takes one look at the currently published article below, with its reference to that O'Reilly douche bag, plus that person she has been told is a world renowned bigot, Don Imus, and misses the description of our true feelings about her granddaughter Essence because that is now buried in the Old News. She must come to the only logical conclusion—that SlingShot is a motherfucking right-wing racist asshole.

While SlingShot considers suing Google over their misrepresentation, and the slandering of his name, and the tarnishing of the good will of the American Road Cycling trade name, he has decided to just keep his mouth shut from now on.

SlingShot quits!


PISSING IN THE WIND: Below is e-mail I sent out yesterday to an e-mail address I found on the msnbc web site.

Despite belief that the address is valid, I am certain this e-mail will go to nowhere, and be read by nobody.

Subj: drastic mistake
Date: 04/16/07

Hi : )

The firing of Don Imus was a drastically horrible mistake.

Plus, allowing the steady stream of detractors, who never even saw his program, such free reign to mischaracterize his work is unconscionable.

One would have hoped to hear at least one commentator state flatly, "I know the man, and he is not a racist."

Apparently, everybody is too excited at the prospect of taking over Imus' spot to consider what was lost.

Count another viewer of msnbc gone.

Bob Fugett
Sugar Loaf, NY

Fortunately, I knew enough to send it from my blocked e-mail account, so I won't be getting back a steady stream of automated "Thank you for your interest's" with offers to purchase goods at discounted prices.

Editor's note: Last evening, long after SlingShot sent the e-mail above to msnbc, he chanced upon a snippet of TV nonsense in which Bill O'Reilly was stating a somewhat similar sentiment. Realizing this constitutes an irrefutable instance wherein he almost agrees with O'Reilly, SlingShot is currently trying to decide whether he should take the Tylenol cure, or simply shoot himself in the head.


GRACIOUS FILLER: In a fit of boredom over the nonsense SlingShot has been publishing all day today, Nuclear Dan Buckley got off his butt and sent in some race results with photos.

Editor's Note: Look how proudly Dan wears his Ridgebury Prime American Road Cycling jersey. Guess we'll have to order more of them in order to award one to Frank.

Nuclear Dan Buckley
Doo Wop Duathlon 04/14/07

Hi Bob.

I am writing this email to thank American Road Cycling, my primary (and only) race sponsor.

I hope you are happy with the results of my last race.

I am listed as finishing in 37th place, 2nd in my age group. Frank finished in 78th.

Check out the age of the 4th place and 28th place finishers. Not bad for older folks.

To see more pictures, go to this link, and enter bib: #10 for my pictures, then bib: #25 for Frank's pictures.


FrankyPanky Frank Dipasquale
Doo Wop Duathlon 04/14/07



GRATUITOUS FILLER: Continuing review of the American Road Cycling web logs throughout the day shows that a large number of people are returning periodically. It is almost as if everybody has become a "Palletman."

A few minutes ago SlingShot exclaimed, "What the hell is Bianchi doing here this time of day?" And The Black Widow responded, "You just don't get it. I told you, the roads are flooded. Nobody went to work!"

In that case, we have to publish something...anything, in order to keep people from wasting their time in front of a TV.

So here's your tidbit. Remember you heard it here first because it will soon be all over the news.

The mass shooting on the Virginia Tech Campus is all the fault of Don Imus.

We know you haven't heard that yet, but you will. We just wanted to see if we could get it on this website before it starts getting talked about everywhere else.

Make a note. Don Imus is solely responsible for the deadly college campus shooting and for every other bad thing that will happen in the future.

Just remember: you heard it here first.


APOLOGY WITH GREATER GUILT: Apparently, my previous apology was not enough, so we have included a new photo on the HUMP 04/14/07 page.

It is Palletman and looks like this:

Palletman setting his trip computer.

Otherwise, Spin Guy's photo is still at the bottom of the page, but that was purely a layout design decision. You'll note that the photos break into a long thin image, then grow back to size in a stepped fashion. We do cute stuff like that all the time, but you might not notice.


APOLOGY WITH GUILT: I have been reviewing today's web logs, and note, by everybody's browsing behavior, that readers are somewhat disappointed with today's article.

I feel responsible for leaving everybody in the lurch by not providing what they expected to find here.

So... fuck you, you motherfucking cocksucking shitbrained nincompooped subhuman artichoked nappy headed hos!

There, I feel better. And so do you.



PASSING FANCY: Maybe it is because I'm still working on grading Cranky's homework, but I didn't watch any television at all yesterday. I guess it is actually because I'm just waiting for the current take-over by the Church Ladies to run its course.

The Church Ladies finally got rid of the only thing mildly interesting on the tube (the only program that had a sparkling broad diversity of viewpoint), and they are now trying to fill that space themselves—with insipid, thoughtless, and narrow nonsense which will most likely serve only to shutdown the podium they so scurrilously grabbed for their own use.

Maybe I ought to watch some of it, so I don't miss the final unwinding of a once great medium. It appears they're going to strangle the last gasp of freshness out of it.

If they do fail to kill the memory of the Golden Goose, for replacing with the Silly Goose, I'll go back when the fad is over.



Now that we have the perfect example of the wrong use of language, which is to use words to tear somebody's career out of their hands, on the face of it due to a mere thoughtless utterance, but in fact for more sinister reasons (i.e., a podium up or grabs), it is time for an update and review of the correct use of comma with quotation marks, and question marks without spaces at the end of sentences, and ellipsis overload.

SlingShot has spent a few hours with the Strunk & White style guide that was suggested by Palletman, and he finds it incredibly succinct and correct. He now has 5 copies to be passed out like Chiclets® to anybody who might like one.

Of course the Strunk manual bears out the absolute correctness of all commas falling within quotation marks:

Incorrect: "Fuck-off douche bag", she exclaimed.
"Fuck-off douche bag," she exclaimed.

Incorrect: He proved to be a real "asshole".
He proved to be a real "asshole."

Even SlingShot's recently acquired copy of Adios, Strunk and White maintains the same standard.

That's enough of a review.

During the quest for this comma resolution, SlingShot found not one authority that called it differently, which only makes the large number of times he has seen the rule violated in all types of printed, posted, and TV screened scroll text all the more perplexing.

Most notable was the total confusion at Wikipedia. It is probably not the 'pedia's fault, because it is apparent that no truly credentialed linguist is wasting their time conforming the Wiki Wiki's pedagogical style to any approved standard.

But this is where the fun begins.

Let's say the predictable results of this ubiquitous information technology (the Internet) eventually follows its current observable process to its logical conclusion. That is to say, when the shear volume of mistakes in the syntactical use of commas, in which they are placed outside quotation marks, finally changes the standard, and supplants the old standard with a new de facto standard.

After all, that is how language changes have always occurred.

The current vast audience of illiterates who have no other reference than the ubiquitous error prone Web might very well learn the error as correct, and they will never think differently.

Just as the sane man in an insane world would appear insane, the comma inside the quotes will eventually become the error.

It will be just like our most recent and shining example of language change, in which the term "nappy headed ho" shifted almost overnight from being a juvenile expression of uninventive trash talk, to become the most highly sought after appellation of academic, cultural, and athletic accomplishment there is.

I know it is hard for you kids to believe it, but there was a time when being called a "nappy headed ho" was barely considered even a compliment.

I have read some of the earliest texts from the époque of the first examples of the phrase in which was actually referred to it as a phrase that should never be used in polite speech, plus if it ever was said aloud, it was only to be said in the lowest of whispers, just like the word—and I am loathe to write it—but just like the word (ok, get ready for it, and remember to whisper): cancer.


These days, of course, everybody wants to be a nappy headed ho, and the phrase is repeated on just about every kid's lunchbox.

Funny how things change.

However, intent changes very little, so someday we can hope for intent to take precedence over phraseology, and truth will be somewhat easier to track.

Then when somebody goes after somebody else's job, in order to garner it for themselves (with the help of others who have been standing around hoping for the job themselves), we will simply call them a politician.






SlingShot is working on a top secret project which took all his free time yesterday, so he didn't get around to writing an article for American Road Cycling.

He did remember that most of what goes on this site is about language, performance art, and the theatrical presentation of truth.

So to make up for not having an article, he put together a very compact explanation of what this site is all about. That compact explanation is the following three line poem:


This is, of course, a poetic expression of pure genius that stands totally on its own and needs no explanation. However, a brief statement may be in order, but be aware that if you do not understand how, why, and where the poem above is full of multi-entendre'd meaning, you do not want to ask SlingShot.

For if you think he would not write several volumes on the who's why's and wherefores of the poem in a complex and lettered way that you would wish nothing more than to avoid reading, well, you'd better check your spectacles for half dried globs of bubble gum.

In any case, the poem above is partly a response to something SlingShot saw on television the morning before today. He knew better than to be wasting time watching TV, but he also knows better than to eat doughnuts, and he is not 100% successful with that either.

SlingShot knows in particular to avoid inflammatory TV content likely to rile him for no particular purpose. Unfortunately, his avoidance process gets defeated sometimes by clever marketing techniques used to great effect in the broadcast arts.

It is of course no surprise to anybody who has had three or more words with SlingShot that he hates, no, REALLY HATES all religion. That is due to a list of reasons beyond the scope of this web site, for there are too many particulars to fit on the number of html pages we have at our disposal...even if using the smallest point size.

Thus, in order to keep himself from worrying too much about these issues of faith, and to protect himself from being offended by the knee jerk willingness of the faithful to follow anybody who only makes mention of their fondest held mythology, SlingShot routinely removes any TV channel from his clicker if it is shown to carry the ravings of leaders of the feeble minded.

Of course, Shot's system is imperfect, because at times (such as Sunday morning, Xmas day, etc.), almost every channel will run such crap just as if it had merit.

So yesterday SlingShot was clicking through channels looking for a good hip-hop tune with fine looking women when he briefly caught site of some TV preacher or other stating, " know, altering words and twisting them away from their true pronunciation and meaning, the way the kids do these days...," then the preacher actually affected a bit of a home boy accent for a few words (yes, he was African), and then shouted, "GOD HATES THAT!"

With one fell swoop that monstrosity called a preacher removed the history of all the world's languages from discussion. He made it clear that God demands everyone must speak exactly the way the preacher does—in accent, syntax, and intent, using only acceptable words, just the right way, and nothing else.

Given the preacher's position on the subject of correct language, it is surprising he was not speaking a very pure dialect of a language from at least as far back as whatever language was used to write the Dead Sea Scrolls.

There is only one way to combat this motherfucking crap!

Here we go.

The actual truth is: language is a dynamic and evolutionary (often revolutionary) process. Language is never static. The only time language gets held in its place is when some fuckhead like that preacher grabs hold of it, binds it with his own didactic shackles, and convinces a few other people to support his wretched views...usually by killing, or at least removing the livelihood, of any brave sole who would confront him.

American Road Cycling therefore vows to carefully watch the truthful change of language, and report it on these pages, and furthermore, vows to place those changes in our approved lexicon of cycling. Let's start with the most recent change.

Henceforth, athletes who achieve the highest performance level within their chosen sport shall no longer be titled Elite Athletes, but shall be termed: Nappy Headed Ho's.

In fact, the very athletic competition itself shall be called a Nappy Headed Ho. As in, "Gee, Wally, today's Hump sure was a Nappy Headed Ho. Or, "TP Joe Straub and Dangerous Dan are today up in Salem competing in one Nappy Headed Ho!"

Establishing this articulation of the standard of excellence should not be hard to do, because anybody who enjoyed the performance of the Rutgers Women's Basketball Team (Essence Carter in particular), while they were being virtually crushed under the weight of unwanted microscopic media inspection, and anybody who saw that they never ever NEVER came close to stooping to the low-bred salaciousness of each and every member of the press who covered these events (which members did so with gusto and relish while twisting not only the words of Imus but the very words of the women themselves), will bear witness to their brave equanimity and presence of mind throughout (all the while knowing their reading assignments, labs, term papers, and mid-terms were still required work), and everyone who saw this will without hesitation say, "If there be nappy headed ho's, then I myself wish to be nothing other than a NAPPY HEADED HO."

Of course, SlingShot holds no illusions. He knows that his own words will be passed around, altered, reinvented, passed around again, and ascribed to him with a different prosody and meaning.

Therefore, he only asks one favor, and that is for people to report his words fully and correctly.

Twist this you motherfucking nappy headed ho's!




Please excuse my knee jerk reaction and rant of yesterday. I thought it through all over again and realize there's really not much of a problem.

It's just a bunch of impotent old guys tussling over their old grudges. Too bad the kids had to be involved. The old guys are just making a final last ditch effort to get their way, and are using the bare remains of a dying medium in the attempt.

Anybody remember when television was relevant? The kids don't even watch it anymore, and the people involved in it still haven't caught on that their game is over. The grand pronouncements they feel compelled to make regarding things they haven't a clue about is astounding.

In any case, we just added a new business to the American Road Cycling Sponsors (NOT) page, and we posted a complementary business card ad for them.

Palletman referred us to them. The business is:

General Contracting

Click to see how we feel about their work.





After today's article (You May Say I'm a Dreamer, shown below), the Don Imus show was terminated by CBS radio, in addition to his already having been fired by MSNBC.

These actions and the accompanying uproar has taken a toll on SlingShot, and caused him to rethink the very roots of American Road Cycling.

After careful consideration, he has decided that it is time to make appropriate changes to our organizational format.

It must now be clear to all: certain types of language will no longer be tolerated, and the consequences for using unacceptable speech will be swift, severe, and permanent.

Therefore, although the very roots of American Road Cycling began as a response to SlingShot's calling a local female rider SPIN BITCH, and then being censored because of it, he has decided that he must finally own up to the facts regarding sensitive language and, as he states it, "Clean up the American Road Cycling act."

He also apologizes for any unkind statements he has made in the past. After all, his very survival is at stake, so he must own up and recognize the error of his ways.

In summary, he has restructured the Membership List by reinstating names that were previously removed, while at the same time altering the ARC Involvement of various members from their former tongue in cheek title of "President" to a more appropriate and carefully selected individual title.

His final words were, "Who knew these people would get SERIOUS about this! I really fucked up, and I'm sorry. I only hope this new organizational chart can in some way make up for my past arrogant, ignorant, and demeaning statements. Those statements were directed toward people in general and women in specific. At the very least, I am confident that those involved in bringing this controversy before the harsh light of public scrutiny, will rest assured that their efforts have finally had a positive impact."

Here it is:






- Bob Fugett

What if we lived in a world where words were powerless to convince people to bomb other people whom they do not know?

What if we lived in a world where bigotry, hatred, and racism could not gain foothold through mere utterance?

What if we lived in a world where political correctness (what we used to call "common courtesy") must certainly fail in its transformational rise to linguistic Nazism?

What if we lived in a world where ongoing disastrous circumstance and outrageous inequality could not be swept from the discussion using the simple red herring statement, "If only we could rid ourselves of just this one word, everything else would be ok"?

What if we lived in a world where any transgression against polite speech was not met with an overwhelming explosion of speech of the same kind, but where the transgression itself served to redirect energies toward a reinvigorated discussion of the true problem, which is: allowing words themselves to fester with more power than they deserve—power grown like a fungus by hiding them away in the dark?

Additionally, what if that overwhelming explosion of speech of the same kind was powerless to amplify and distort the original transgression beyond all recognition?

What if we lived in a world where the simple lesson of childhood is learned for life?

"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words may never hurt me."

That world would exist without the help of people who have become career professionals at insuring the negative power of a word survives to the next generation.

That world would exist without corporate sponsorship.

That world would understand the truth, which is: context (not the word) is king.

You may say I'm a dreamer; and, of course, I am the only one.

Goodbye, Mr. Imus. "They did not listen. They're not listening still. Perhaps they never will."

DISCLAIMER: When Mr. Fugett states he is "...the only one," he is of course including all readers of this site in the only one category, as they are all literate, thoughtful, and make the distinction between the standard dictionary meaning (or popular usage) of words in order to use them in abstract constructions which step far enough away from the words' emotional content to observe the absurd humor found in the predictable way people so often hold a word as more important than the object, deed, or intent that it names.

We are confident in stating "all readers" here, because readers of this site understand word vs. object very well, and any who do not understand this, stay here only briefly before they are off to find less fertile ground.

FURTHER DISCLAIMER: Let there be no confusion whatsoever as to the American Road Cycling position on this issue.

Essence Carter and the Rutgers team did such an admirable job of handling this wretched situation, they left no doubt at all that they understand these concepts to their very core. They resoundingly proved that the education they are receiving, surrounds their athletic performance and provides a foundation for excellence. They proved that there is hope in the world yet.

It will be interesting to see if this sort of excellence may someday overcome the rest of the world's calamitous stupidity.

As for Mr. Imus, he will get along quite well without his corporate overseers.

Whatever transpires in his meeting with the Rutgers team is of course a private matter, and none of anybody else's business. It will be sparsely, poorly reported, and significantly distorted in any case.

And while we are at it: the identity of whomever it was that fucked a baby into the belly of Anna Nicole Smith is also none of your fucking business either.

On the other hand, we are saddened to learn that Kurt Vonnegut dropped dead on the spot when hearing the news of the firing of Imus.

Editor's Note: The world described above would also exist without ever a missile having my tax dollar taped to it flying through the bedroom of a kid on the other side of the planet.

If you need attribution of the two song lyrics alluded to, you stopped reading this long before the credit would be germane.









Harriman springtime delight - 2007. A Performance Fart Video.
A Performance Fart Video




The following Photo of Truth (not exactly a Time Trial but a fairly accurate indication of speed) has been updated on the HUMP SPRING OPENER 2007 Photos page and included in ROLLOVER HEAVEN.

Be sure to hit your Refresh Button on the other pages.

It's Easter. Bet I can beat you to that egg over there.
Dangerous Dan (Sperm Boy)

Things look a tad limp there, Dan.




You may recall the recent article titled PARADOX IN JURASSIC PARK, in which SlingShot recounts the vision of Heather Labance, Kevin Haley, and Humberto Cavalheiro way off the front during the 03/31/07 Hump.

Well, you might want to read it again, after you read this:

"Tina Pic (Colavita/Sutter Home) out-sprinted Advil-Chapstick's Jen McRae and Heather Labance to take the win, but credited her team with the victory."

Actually, you might really like to go back and reread the paragraph above, keeping this in mind: that sprint was for the U.S. Open of Cycling Elite Women Championships, held in Richmond, VA, April 7th.

Get it? Just seven days (a single week) after the PARADOX IN JURASSIC PARK incident during the Hump, Heather Labance took 3rd in the US Open of Cycling Championships—Elite Women!

Like I said, you might want to go back and read the JURASSIC PARK article again, and wonder at the miraculous talent that often shows up for the Hump, and how few people in the parking lot are privy to it.

Also, check out the race results to read the rest from the quote above.

Thanks to a tip from: Humberto Cavalheiro, Turtle Boy who shits in the woods.

Editor's Note: Guess SlingShot will be riding in the snowy cold with The Black Widow today. No way to avoid it.





See if you can identify the two notables in this photograph of a local ball team, circa 1912.

Player Number One (1)

A) Big Bianchi

Player Number Two (2)

A) Satan's spawn
B) Satan herself
C) Only friend of Dr. Artie Art, Artie Art Donohue
D) Peetie Kaka
E) Chester Pete Cotsis
F) All of the above
G) All of the above, plus several of your own invectives


Here's a hint.

Big Bianchi

Petie Pete Petie, Petie Kaka, Chester Pete Cotsis,
Satan's spawn, Satan herself,
Only friend of Dr. Artie Art, Artie Art Donohue




Why we call Kevin Haley "Shithead"
Kevin Haley, and why we call him Shithead.

This morning was the American Road Cycling Grand Opening for Spring Season 2007. Lots of excellent riders showed up for the Hump despite the cold weather.

Unfortunately, members of a local club encroached on our big event, but we can't really control that sort of stuff. Many of our large gatherings begin in public parking lots, with rides held over public access roads, so we often have to put up with curiosity seekers, fans, and onlookers in general. It's the price of fame.

However, American Road Cycling did take the precaution of inviting a town police cruiser, just in case another fight broke out between the local club and members of American Road Cycling over property rights, public displays of speed, bad language, etc.

Fortunately, local club harassment is only ever a problem in parking lots, because once rides begin the local club riders are always dropped within the first few hundred yards, so they don't pose a problem after that.

SlingShot and The Black Widow sacrificed their ride in order to bring you the following photos of American Road Cycling Opening Day.

More photos of similarly devlish cyclists.





Honey, I Strunk the kids!
If P'man wants it, P'man gets it,
but this web site is starting to feel
like a monkey on my back.

Editor's Note: SlingShot thanks everybody involved for providing a reason to head out to Barnes & Noble to buy something and have a cappuccino with cinnamon scone.

Directly after the photo shoot above SlingShot commented, "The oddest thing... I think my hat still smells like Foriduh or something."

Updated Style Manual List

1. Gibaldi, J. and Modern Language Association of America., MLA style manual and guide to scholarly publishing. 2nd ed. 1998, New York: Modern Language Association of America. xxviii, 343 p.

2. Gibaldi, J. and Modern Language Association of America., MLA handbook for writers of research papers. 6th ed. 2003, New York: Modern Language Association of America. xvii, 361 p.

3. Microsoft Corporation. Editorial Style Board., Microsoft manual of style for technical publications. 3rd ed. 2004, Redmond, Wash.: Microsoft Press. xxi, 398 p.

4. Strunk, W. and E.B. White, The elements of style. 4th ed. 1999, Boston: Allyn and Bacon. xviii, 105 p.

5. University of Chicago. Press., The Chicago manual of style : for authors, editors, and copywriters. 13th ed. 1982, Chicago: University of Chicago Press. ix, 737 p.




THE SHORT ANSWER: Somebody asked why punctuation and grammar on American Road Cycling is always so much better than on most web sites.

SlingShot explained that it is because our contributors are true readers, and very enlightened when it comes to publication style. He said a lot of it has to do with three (3) simple details which they are all careful to observe.

1) Commas (,) and periods (.) always fall within quotation marks.

Correct:     "Fuck-off douche bag," she exclaimed.
Incorrect: "Fuck-off douche bag", she exclaimed.

Correct:      He proved to be a real "asshole."
Incorrect: He proved to be a real "asshole".

2) Question marks are never preceded by a space.

Correct:     Do you think jerk breath even has a clue?
Incorrect: Do you think jerk breath even has a clue ?

3) Double spaces after sentence endings is old school.

Double spaces were due to typewriter monospace characters.  Double spacing after periods made it easier to see sentence breaks, because spaces between words were so large.

Text on current generation computer monitors and laser jet printouts is much more compact, and the kerning of letters obviates the need for double spaces. One space is now adequate and correct.

These three rules are confirmed by American Road Cycling's five (5) main style reference guides:

1. Ebbitt, W.R. and D.R. Ebbitt, Writer's guide and index to English. 7th ed. 1982, Glenview, Ill.: Scott, Foresman. xvi, 636 p.

2. Gibaldi, J. and Modern Language Association of America., MLA handbook for writers of research papers. 6th ed. 2003, New York: Modern Language Association of America. xvii, 361 p.

3. Gibaldi, J. and Modern Language Association of America., MLA style manual and guide to scholarly publishing. 2nd ed. 1998, New York: Modern Language Association of America. xxviii, 343 p.

4. Microsoft Corporation. Editorial Style Board., Microsoft manual of style for technical publications. 3rd ed. 2004, Redmond, Wash.: Microsoft Press. xxi, 398 p.

5. University of Chicago. Press., The Chicago manual of style : for authors, editors, and copywriters. 13th ed. 1982, Chicago: University of Chicago Press. ix, 737 p.

There is one non-standard use which is preferred in the Chatter Box, but not necessarily elsewhere.

An ellipse is always specifically three dots (...), and they are always connected to the word preceding, and the word following like this:

SlingShot really doesn't like you...nor anybody else.

However, in the Chatter Box this rule is waived and altered to allow a space before the word following the ellipse like this:

SlingShot really doesn't like you... nor anybody else.

That is done to allow more opportunity for visually pleasing line breaks across the number of screen resolutions readers are likely to be viewing. Extended length ellipses of more than three dots (such as........), in cases where they may be found with long words such as cocksuckingmotherfuckingshithead..................dickfaceasshole, has the tendency to produce jarring line breaks with lots of white space, especially in the Chatter Box.

However, the ellipse problem is still under review. Most times a simple comma, if placed correctly, suffices. The ARC readership is extremely sophisticated and may be trusted to intuitively know how long breaks in the flow of metric scansion are intended to be.

In any case, these are problems that show up often on other sites, but the ARC people are better than that. They just don't do it. They know the world looks up to them as linguistic role models.

SlingShot is pretty proud to be associated with them, but he would never say it out loud.

There are other really good reasons why these little details are so important, but those are part of the long
answer............................for later.




THE NEARER YOUR DESTINATION: Yesterday, we purchased our third (3rd) wireless phone system. Since each comes with an auxiliary hand set, that means we now have six phones at various places around our tiny little house.

I say "various places," but the places are really very specific, and each phone must be returned to it's proper cradle in order for the systems to work correctly, so as not to get us confused.

We bought one of the systems in Floriduh, to leave there, but we'll be in a different place next winter, so we brought it home. Also, it is the same make and model of the set we already have here in NY, and we had another compelling reason to bring it back.

The phones work in a rather clumsy and illogical way. You get two phones in a system, but you can only use one handset at a time. We call them a mommy phone and a baby phone, to help us remember how they work.

If you have only one system, there is no provision for local conference calls. If Mary yells up the stairs, "Hey, asshole, so and so needs to ask you something," she has to hang-up on so and so for me to use my handset, but then of course so and so is hung-up on, so we have to start the phone tag all over again, all the way back from eenie, meenie, minie, moe.

With two systems, so long as we keep track of which mommy phone is being used with which baby phone, we are ok. There's a mommy by Mary's desk, and its baby is in the back room where paintings get scanned into the archives.

Another mommy is on my desk, and its baby is in the bedroom. It took a few hours of stepping through likely scenarios, but this arrangement seemed it would keep us out of the most trouble.

We just have to remember we can't use the bedroom with the living room, or the studio with the museum room phone.

See why we needed the cutesy names?

Well, everything appeared to be going along fine, then the phone rang when Mary wasn't here, and I had to make a quick decision to pick up or not. My default is to leave the phone alone, but with Mary out of the house, there's always the possibility she is bleeding to death in a ditch somewhere, and needs to tell me to go get fucked one more time before she passes out dead.

Unfortunately, I was not close to one of our wireless phones so had to run over to the wired phone on the kitchen wall.

But that phone does not have a backlit screen, so it's real hard to see who's on the other end, and I only had a second to decide before the voice mail would pick up. That is one of the reasons we got the first wireless system, the speed of deciding, "Telemarketer, or tragedy?"

Another long standing problem was that the old wired phone in the bedroom had its Caller ID screen hidden when cradled. We didn't know who was calling until we already picked it up. Not helpful at all, since I will do just about anything to avoid talking on the phone, and pre-confirming I don't really HAVE to pick up is pretty important to making that work.

My policy is: I don't want to have a conversation with anybody who can't perform a Heimlich Maneuver on me if needed.

I know most people have different criteria regarding their phone calls. In fact, it appears nobody wishes to have even the slightest involvement in the place where they happen to be at the moment, but are always plugged into some other reality in some far away place. They maintain that position whether they are barreling down a highway and 75 mph, or sitting by a lake on the park bench pretending to feed the geese. "Here" is not where they want to be.

Apparently everybody's far too important to somebody, or something going on, someplace else for them to waste a moment focused on the place where they happen to find themselves at present.

It occurs to me: they weren't so fucking important to that other place before they left it, that they couldn't leave it in the first place.


If somebody dropped in from outer space, and was given a tour, their tour guide would have to explain, "Oh... those little thingies they are all holding up to their heads? Those are just telling them what to think. None of them can do that on their own."

In any case, not being able to see the Caller ID quickly enough, made us decide it was time to get another handset, which of course only comes as a whole new phone system (if we want to use them together in any minimally useful fashion), so we bought a new mommy phone for the kitchen, and its baby phone is up in the attic by the Computrainer.

Great news... all these "wireless" phones come with their own power cables, etc (ain't wireless grand), so we now have six landline wireless phones, two cell phones, plus their compliment of 14 extra wires, all cluttering up a space we decided last year to clean out of everything that is not absolutely necessary for a basic subsistence.

All these phones for the sole purpose of making sure I never ever have to use a single one of them.

I just hope those thingies motorists are all holding up to their heads are telling them that they ought to think about not hitting the cyclist they just came upon around a corner behind a hill.

Editor's Note: No letters about this please. We know it is illegal for motorists to hand hold cell phones, but our experience proves this law is meaningless, and the slow, halting, weaving driving pattern we previously identified as, "...drunker 'n a skunk on New Year's Eve," we now say, "...VIP on their motherfucking cell phone."




Cover me with the T-shirt, Dan, so they can't pants me.
Brand New Bruce Pollard receiving the coveted
Love the Hump Winter Series 2007 T-shirt Award
04/03/07 Harriman Park

It was back in February, a day when riders became cyclists.

It was a day when the thermometer sat at 17° Fahrenheit, a day when cold got colder the longer you rode.

It was a day of 36 miles alone, a day accomplished.

It was a day that proved Marines are, more than anything else, Marines.

Above, we see Brand New Bruce being presented his free T-Shirt award for participation in the Love the Hump Winter Series 2007 Cycling Competition.

The competition: Can you show up, ride... and survive?

The T-shirt is shown being presented by Nuclear Dan Buckley, an accomplished cyclist, a Duathlon Champion (most recently 2nd in his age group, The Odd Man Duathlon), and who once nervously poised his finger over "the button of global annihilation."

Still, Dan is shown brought to his knees in admiration of Bruce's achievement.

On a sadder note, Brand New Bruce had hoped the winning of this coveted award would finally move him above his current position within the ranks of real cyclists, but he remains: whale shit.

Bruce even had his eye on the almost unbelievable credential (for him) of pond scum.

Unfortunately, less than an hour and a half after the pomp and circumstance of the presentation shown above, Brand New was with the group dropping down off the final hill of Tiorati Brook Road into Tiorati Circle, when SlingShot announced the arrival of three other riders dropping down into the same circle from the opposite side, off Arden Valley Road.

SlingShot barely had time to remark, "There they go, let's get 'em," and gave chase.

Nuclear Dan and The Black Widow latched onto SlingShot's wheel as he cut through the circle backwards to take best advantage of the downhill, and a shortcut.

Sadly, Brand New Bruce went the correct and legal way around the circle, and was dropped because of it, thus missing a wonderful Seven Lakes romp in which the other American Road Cycling riders laid waste to three hapless cyclists from across the river.

Therefore, Brand New has been re-demoted. The official reason was given as, " egregious failure to cheat."

We look forward to this season's cycling, and watching Brand New struggle anew to climb from his lowly position of whale shit, all the way up to pond scum.


Editor's Note: The Love the Hump Winter Series 2007 Cycling Competition was the brain child  of Joe Straub, with additional sponsorship by American Road Cycling and Peak Performance Chiropractic.

Bruce may yet make it to pond scum, but he will be Brand New forever.




Soon after this weeks Hump report was published (see: PARADOX IN JURASSIC PARK below), American Road Cycling received the following over the transom.

Subj: riding?
Date: 07-04-02 16:28:49 EDT
From: (Humberto Cavalheiro)
To: big-ass CC list

I will be riding Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday at 4:30 from Paul's driveway


From: G Douglas Allen
To: even larger big-ass CC list


Tuesday - Hill climbing?

Not sure what the others are looking to do.


From: Humberto
To: more & more

we can go up to 218 over West Point in to Harriman state park and back

From: G Douglas Allen
To: to an avalanching snowball of CC'd recipients

That's 50 miles!

Cornwall, 218, West point to rte 6 and back? Little less and should be back before it gets dark?



Thank you Heather, for rolling this ball along.

It would appear our little two headed T-Rex (see: PARADOX IN JURASSIC PARK below), has, if not actually gotten these boys to stuttering, has insinuated a bit of a stumble into their basic syntax and punctuation as they wage their plan for grim survival.

All hail Heather Labance!

Or as most of you know her: That (Puthuh!) Girl Heather from Skylands!

Editor's Note: Thanks also, to Poor Latrine for leaving the country, so his driveway may once again be put to (of late) an uncustomary good use.



Palletman (Dan McNeilly)

Team DKNY/Stinkature Silos had mixed results today. With head honcho Poor Latrine in attendance, everyone wanted to impress the big guy.

The Cat 5 race was the first to go off. Palletman, in an attempt to brown nose the coach, let it slip that he was in fourth place in point standings for the Cat 5 series.

Poor Latrine's response was, "That's great Palletman. We'll let all the other Cat 5 DKNY/Sinnature Cycle teammates know so they can help you out."

At the line I called all of the DKNY members together for instructions and race strategy. It was a small gathering.


The benefit of having no teammates in the race is that I get to write whatever I want, and no one can call me on it.

Today, I was determined to learn from my prior mistakes, and since several teams were represented with multiple riders, I decided to let them do all the work.

I was going to sit in today.

Things seemed to be going pretty well. Several riders made attacks, only to be chased down by either Bethel Cycles or Target Training. At one point a group of four broke away. Knowing that this breakaway had the potential of leaving me in the dust, I bridged the gap to make it a group of five...we were quickly caught by the Peloton.

With three laps left, a Bethel Cycles and a Pawling Cycles rider made an attack. Knowing that both guys had a team working for them, Palletman joined the break. We formed a gap and were working together nicely, but at the top of the hill on the start of the last lap we lost the Pawling Cycles rider.

So it was the Bethel Cycles rider and me. The Bethel cycles rider says, "Let me pull." His next (not so distant) utterance was, "I'm done."

Thus I was left out to dry once again. Relying on my vast knowledge of bicycle racing, and planning on using all of my teammates to best advantage, I sit up to catch my breath for the final sprint.

I am engulfed by the peloton within seconds, like a shiner being eaten by a large mouth bass.

But I dig deep to catch back on. I don't feel very confident. I am in tenth, maybe twentieth, position at the bottom of the last hill.

Then as if I hadn't called on them all day long my carefully preserved glycogen stores kicked in. Slingshot had started me on my power stroke conservation program on Friday, and I didn't know what the hell he was talking about, but it was as if all the other riders (except one, moi) were going backwards up that last hill.

I finished second.

Thanks for pulling on Friday Sling. It worked!

In the Cat 4 race Team DKNY/Stinkature Silos looked strong.

Unfortunately, Coach Latrine's automatic tire deflator was not working properly. Instead of it having him flat on the last lap, he flatted on the second lap.

Palletman, in his never ending attempt to brown nose the coach, showed up with a replacement tire, just in time for Coach Latrine to continue the race.

I have a feeling I'll be riding with the same number of teammates next race.

G Douglas Allen won a prime worth $20.00. The team lost organization in the last lap, and everyone finished with the field.

Unlike TP Joe Straub, G Douglas spent all his winnings on coffee and donuts with the Team.

Editor's Note: That was possibly the funniest fictional account of a race I have ever read. I mean, just the outlandish idea alone, that SlingShot ever pulled anybody, not to mention, that he had a thought in his head? Man, that was  sweet. Where do you come up this shit?

Also, the insane notion that anybody might actually survive the truck tire tester ass whipping that Poor Latrine would deal out, if somebody ever fucked up one of his carefully planned, "I flatted," excuses. Rich, P'man. Rich indeed.

Excuse me a moment. I am peeing all over myself.


I even hate to point out that there was one brief lapse in your comic conceit. It was at the point you own up to the fact that the "de-flatting" of Latrine would surely result in a team-less ride in all future races.

However, I understand how easily one could miss maintaining continuity despite such overwhelming realities to the  contrary.

Paul will never let such an indiscretion slip. He takes his whining excuse mongering very seriously. But happily, once you have finished your next sprint with a Stinkature Cycles Tire Pump through your spokes, you will be a much stronger rider.

Otherwise, your giving G Douglas full credit for kicking TP Joe's ass in the after race snack department was very kind and thoughtful. I guess it all evens out.




PARADOX IN JURASSIC PARK: Yesterday, at some point along the Hump, which is now all different because the titty bar bridge is out, I was doing my usual, when I had one of those eureka moments.

My usual is to be dropped then spend the rest of the ride doing math problems in my head. Sometimes I write stories, but mostly it's math. I figure as long as I'm wasting time, it may as well be wasted in abstract thought. Stories just get written.

Generally, I'll be doing simple math like, "How fast am I going?" or "How far do I have left?" or "What is my average?" because those things are recorded on my trip computer, so I can just watch the screen and don't even have to look up and be confronted with reality: not a single rider in sight.

Actually, simple math, some plane geometry, and even basic algebra are not very hard to accomplish on most rides. It is only the calculus of the steepest hills that still eludes me.

But yesterday, I felt exceptionally strong and was able to work on something special.

I know most of you are quite familiar with both the Special and General Theories of relativity, so no introduction is needed when I mention the particular problem I was confronting, when I had my massive insight, was a question of time vs. space, and the reality of being.

At some point the truth hit me, though at first I thought it merely gas. Please bear with and observe the subtleties, because the following explanation gets a little involved.

I was on a pretty big hill, and coming oh so close to almost being able to narrow the widening gap between me and the little group of riders above me, who were the ones most recently to drop me.

That's when I realized an absolute truth: I could easily keep up with them, if only I could get there and ride with them while they waited for me, and so long as I made absolutely certain that I never caught them.

It was a paradox.

The happy side effect of my little science fair project came from the fact that we were on a 2.5 mile shortcut, so I also netted a good position in the Hump, which I soon started burnishing.

Not much later, despite a Police car dampening my enthusiasm for running a stop sign, I had my little target group just outside my grasp.

That's when things got strange.

I hid out of the lead group's view for as long as I could, but one of the riders looked back and saw me almost close enough to latch on. Given the individuals in this little target group, such a thing would usually mean they would hold up a little slower, so I could bridge back. However, this time they kept moving.

Just a few minutes later, after the downhill hard right onto the hill before the camel farm, my hope renewed, for I saw I wasn't quite catching them, but I also wasn't being dropped very much further back.

Then I noticed the riders turning around to look at me, again and again, and with a certain rapidity of repeat. Also they had the oddest look on their faces. I knew I'd seen that look before, but I couldn't quite place it.

There eyes were wide and worried, it was as if, well, I finally remembered, just like that scene in that old movie Jurassic Park, where a flock of large birdlike dinosaurs are running through a vast field, and one of the onlookers remarks, "That is odd behavior. Just like a flock of birds... being CHASED!"

But that made no sense at all. I'm no threat.

Well, maybe they are playing a little game of, "...let SlingShot get just close enough to keep him trying, hehehe."

I thought further, "I'm almost at the top of the hill. Maybe I'll catch them on the downhill past the camels. Still, they do look rather harried and frenetic, maybe they're looking at something behind m..."

ZOOOM, Kevin, Heather, and Humberto (tight and in that order) pass me hard on the left. Not a word. Just an extreme forward leaning growling spin, and in each of their eyes the famished hungry look of a T-Rex, the perfect inverse mirror of the quivering wide eyed fright of their prey in front.

More accurately, Kevin and Humberto did have that look, but Heather seemed perfectly a two headed Rex, and mad. I saw it clear, crisp and bold. No question about it.

It was reported later that the last word in the group ahead had been, "Fugett's gone. Let him go. We've got to get up this hill before they get here."

All this happened about three miles out in front of the "AA's" which I now refer to as the "B" Group.

Almost makes me wish I hadn't quipped at the beginning of the ride, "Hey Black Widow, just get on that girl's wheel and take an easy day off. She's only riding 29 hrs a week. How hard could it be to stay with her?"

If only That Girl Heather from Skylands could just forgive me, or better yet forget me.

I'm not here.

Editor's Note: Had she even noticed you in the first place, she would have forgotten you already. Your only problem now, SlingShot, is putting up with listening to The Black Widow stop what she's doing a few hundred times a day, to look wistfully off into space, and murmur, "I want to ride like that!"



2007/04: OLD NEW'S - American Road Cycling Archives


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