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Daily Archives: August 8, 2018

“We have to regulate every aspect of people’s lives.”

I read an interesting post the other day, that I felt rose to a level of import for me to comment on here. Typically I like to keep politics off of my blog because it’s a dirty, ugly thing, politics. Typically I’m going to piss off a lot of people. I can leave sides out of this one, though.

I have a distrust for politicians equal to my love of all things cycling. If you’ve read more than a couple of posts on this blog, you know already, I am a cycling enthusiast of epic enthusiasm.

Politicians, are, for some reason or another, a necessary evil. I can accept this (or would that be except that? I digress). The second oldest profession is necessary, to the extent the first is said to be. I prefer the arrogant shits be kept on a very short leash, though.

It once was that Democrats were supposed to be the guardians of freedom. Those days are long gone, as is demonstrated by the gaffe uttered by one Jesse Dominguez as an explanation for why he voted to ban plastic straws in Santa Barbara, California. Someone had the temerity to ask, “What’s next?!”

“Unfortunately, common sense is just not common. We have to regulate every aspect of people’s lives.”

Now, when I use the word “gaffe”, I’m I’m not talking about the dictionary definition of gaffe: “an unintentional act or remark causing embarrassment to its originator; a blunder.” No, that’s too good for that knucklehead. The definition of his “gaffe” is “unintentionally telling the truth without hiding said truth in a bunch of bs jargon.”

Better, here’s his explanation/walk back:

“A few weeks ago I made a string of words in a rhetorical fashion about regulation and they were not taken as rhetorical and that’s my fault so I want to apologize.”

That’s a pretty impressive string of words alright. Here’s the best part; I’d be willing to bet he believes his constituents are dumb enough to buy that horseshit excuse.

Short leash, ladies and gentlemen. That f*cker forgot who’s boss. Time to vote his ass back to his fast food assistant manager’s job and remind him.

In a funny twist of irony, Mr. Dominguez has proven his own point, that common sense is indeed not common enough, even for cocky politicians. Common sense dictates that this is the United States, a free country. Mr. Dominguez has obviously missed that memo. As I wrote earlier, it’s time to send him back to fast food. Where they’ll use plastic straws. To remind him daily that this is America, and he is obviously an idiot.

Notice, please, I did not get into sides here. This post is about freedom from politicians, of any stripe. That should have made the five freedoms in the First Amendment, six.

Tuesday Night Club Ride: My Hot, Rockin’ Wife Kicks Butt Edition

Last night’s club ride was a rarity as cycling goes. As a group, we’ll see one or maybe two days like that all year long, where the wind is so negligible, it doesn’t factor into the ride.

Unfortunately, it was also fairly hot, sunny and muggy… 86° (30 C).

Mrs. Bgddy didn’t participate in the warm-up because she’s the volunteer coordinator for the upcoming Assenmacher 100 so she wanted to make some calls and do a shorter warm-up. I rolled with the boys for the normal 7+ mile loop. After, we gathered at the start and waited for everyone to get rolling. Just with the ease of the warm-up, I knew it was going to be a fun evening and I wondered if the A guys would finally crack a 25 mph average. They’ve been close a few times this year.

They left a minute after six, we rolled a minute after them. I worked my way up front because I like to take the first pull. If we go out too fast, we tend to have a slower overall average. If we take it out easy, say 19-20 mph, then pick up the speed in the second mile, we tend to fly.

The draft was perfect as I tucked in back after my turn up front. 23-24 mph felt easy (36-38 km/h), but the group was a little unruly – too many people trying to hide at the back tends to be our downfall – my lack of trust in certain wheels is mine, so I tend to take way too many turns up front rather than just drifting to the back and bridging if necessary. Thinking about it, in all seriousness, it just might be a patience thing.

The ride, thinking back on it, was a bit unremarkable. It was fun, as all bike rides tend to be, nothing really stuck out as impressive. I took two turns up front in the last three miles of the intermediate sprint and tried to launch a decent 34-mph (54-km/h) sprint just behind Toby, but I didn’t have enough leg… but that’s when I noticed my wife, just a couple of bikes back. Not only was she hanging with the group and taking her turns up front, she was participating in the sprints. I took second, my wife third, and we exchanged fist-bumps on the way into town.

From there, I took another turn up front, but this was a shorter one. I could feel the effort and needed to recharge a bit for the final sprint just eight miles up the road. We were fast on that last leg so I tried to stay toward the front so I didn’t get stuck behind someone who decided to drop. We went from a double to a single pace line as well, so that made it a little easier.

Coming into the final sprint, we were between 24 & 26 mph and cranking pretty good. Chuck came around at about 28 and Toby said, “There we go”, and went with him. I followed. Then, with way too long to go, I launched an attack. I went around Chuck at 32 and rather than let up, I tried to keep it going. I held Toby off all the way to the last 50 meters and took second in the sprint from the front. I was happier with that than winning the sprint – that push took some effort, baby.

I reached into my pocket and shut Strava down. I turned to see where my wife was behind me… I couldn’t see her and was bummed, thinking she’d dropped in the last couple of miles when we kicked it up. I turned forward and slow pedaled on – and that’s when I saw her pink helmet up the road. She hand’t dropped. For her to be way up there, she must have been right on my heels at 32 mph!

Sure enough, my wife, one of only two women who can hang with the B group, hung with the lead group and participated in the sprint. We spent the next ten minutes hi-fiving and sharing different aspects of our ride. We’d turned out a remarkable 21.6 average for the 28 miles. Mrs. Bgddy’s got some oomph to her! Better is sharing the speed and the stories with her. No longer is her side of the story “I dropped four miles from the finish”… Now it’s, “I was right with you”, and that’s as good as it gets.

UPDATE: I failed to properly mention in the post; not only did my wife keep up, she led us out for the final sprint. Dude, seriously. She’s badass.