We interrrupt the regularly scheduled posts on braking methods for a flash news release. A satellite spy photo found its way onto my desktop. You never know what you'll get when you start messing with the tuner of your XM radio receiver.
I'm sorry, I got carried away. The photo is real but I didn't get it from a satellite. It was actually taken by a member of the paparazzi. For some deluded reason he thought the world might be interested in what goes on behind the scenes with a famous blogger and insane motorcycle rider. No, not me. I would have actually been interesting. No, this is a photo taken of the backyard of a certain BMW rider in Pennsylvania. This one is fond of posting various varieties of B.S. onto the internet, pole dancing, cigar smoking, and arthritis pills. Not necessarily in that order, of course. The poor photographer somehow thought the world would be interested in seeing the "after the rally" photo from this man's backyard. It might endear him to the world more if they could only see that he puts his gigantic underwear on one leg at a time like everyone else. Well, not everyone.
I met the photographer, broken down and disillusioned, when I enrolled for my next camera class. Turns out this guy was the instructor. After seeing the photo for myself I decided this man was not a suitable role model and was determined to ask for my money back. Which may be a moot point, as it turns out.
Having tried to sell this photo to the Enquirer, the Star, Pole Dancer's Weekly, etc., and being soundly laughed out of offices, the photographer was a mess. He stated his intention to quit teaching and photographing. His new goal was to live a life of drunken debauchery and collecting dollar bills for pole dancer tips. Sort of like the subject of his photo, actually. Not understanding the true situation here, the photographer blamed it on current news. Nobody can compete with the Michael Jackson Bizarro Bombardment and Sideshow right now, he said.
I attempted to tell the guy that if he had only consulted me I could have saved him a lot of heartache and disillusionment. If I could pass on one secret it would be this: A key skill in life is learning to discern the difference between one who is actually important and one who is a master of self-aggrandizement.
While the instructor went to find a dictionary to look up aggrandizement, I stole the photo and ran. With as much dignity as I could muster, I might add. I figured it was worth risking getting into trouble. This was a chance for a laugh that was too good to pass up. So, without further ado, I present my photo. I call it:
When the fun and games are over, there is the laundry to deal with. A man who sweats profusely from even the smallest things like getting onto his bike needs a lot of shall we say, "unmentionables". Due to the man's fondness for whiskey, his unmentionables are not unobservable. Even a man like our subject washes certain items at least once a year. People in general, and pole dancers specifically, ( no matter how badly they need the dollar ) won't come within a mile if he doesn't. A person can only afford to keep buying new stuff for so long. Swimming pools work for washing ( and thus bathing ) but no dryer in the world is big enough for this duty. In order to fully understand the photo, you must have an idea of the actual scale involved.
This was taken with a zoom lense from a great distance. What appears to be a common garden shed at this distance is actually a hay barn. The tire on the left is from one of those gargantuan farm implements that can plow seven acres at a swipe. The clothesline is cable from a defunct High Lead Logging operation. Given this perspective, you can understand the dimensions of the garments involved. Standing right up next to one, you might guess that the whole MAC-PAC could hold weekly wrenching sessions inside a single garment. With enough room left over for a picnic table and beer cooler. And you'd be right. Unless the owner of the garments was present, of course.
With our current heat wave I was tempted to procure one of these garments and use it as an awning. It would make great shade for me, my "peeps" and my "peep's" "peeps". Not to mention most of the neighborhood dogs and cats. However, I did have a couple of concerns. For instance, I really prefer any skid marks I'm around to be on airport runways. So I went and bought some King Size bedsheets. Same thing, but with no leg holes.
Well, I'd love to keep writing and help endear our hero to everybody, but I'm going to have to close out and run. I mean, go. A police car is rounding the corner with the photographer in the passenger seat. I'm going to have to stand in front of the bathroom mirror and practice my "Who, Me?" face. If only I had a dime for every time I heard that as a cop. I'd be doing something far different than stooping to poking fun at a friend and good man!
Miles and smiles,