In a larger sense getting by includes working.
The latter is merely a tough way of getting by.

A.J. Liebling,
"Back Where I Came From"

Cleveland, Patron Saint of 12K Dreamers
Sidelined By Clevestein Barr Syndrome

THE RACING CHRONICLES: Escaping the Torment of Paradox and Bathos or Acceptance that the Looking Glass Cracked

I.
Lesson Worth Learning

Back when such things seemed to matter the Self received a ninety on his test in the particularly hoary even for law school course titled "Estates and Future Interests." As with most things metaphoric the label gives no clue to the substance and can only be appreciated in the presence of knowledge that estates and future interests are "words of art" that were in Chaucerian England given whatever meaning necessary to ensure that no property of any value would ever end up in the hands of the rappel and certainly no woman. It was then a course best approached after three days of pharmaceutically assisted study which had the un-intended but much palliative bonus of Self forgetting the entire book within ten minutes of the Professor announcing that the room was too full of cigarette smoke for anyone to be able to see enough to write anymore. Parenthetically note that law school grades were determined by one semester ending test, no points for trying hard, coming to class or dressing nicely. It was normal that a ninety received an A and thus when Self returned to school after a five week self induced coma call Winter Break, he was surprised to learn that he had earned a B, while friend and now VP of Stokely Van Camp had received an A for an 84. Upon speaking with our Professor it was explained that Self had learned a valuable lesson, viz. that some 84s are better than some nineties. It is then with this seminal truth that the sublime is merely the absurd backwards that the Self has mercifully escaped any search for a hermetic theme that would by the force of the argument equate psychic splitting with rational thought. More importantly, it permits to an appreciation of this most Stoopid of Sports about which the Self is constrained by the web site to write. But first please indulge a detour.

II.
Street Light Kids and the Folly of Organization

What with education and its presumed concomitant youth sport now being the sirens without which votes cannot be seduced it would appear inapposite to dismiss those who actually know something about the subject. But, studies and facts that put to question intuition are simply not starters for those who believe principals and principles have no place in matters of education and sport. Self was reminded of this curiosity while stopped on the people path observing parents watching grade school children practice football and soccer. The participants kept looking at their younger non participating siblings who were actually running around while the players were forced to stand around and be lectured on "plays." Such it was that Self came to wonder the purpose of such forced detention, and as it turns out the matter has been studied, and a lot.

So it is that male parents enlist their kids in these work camps confident they will learn the value of "teamwork" and the importance of rules; but what they actually learn is to submit to "authority," an atavistic value found in profoundly distressed adults.
Not coincidently when mothers run the teams the kids have fun and being mostly left alone they learn to make up their own rules-a skill that associates with creativity.

It is no coincidence then that bike racers were the kids who organized no end of games played under Streetlights until forced to go home. Adults with whistles and clipboards were not wanted and certainly not needed to explain that tackling someone in a street game of touch was not conducive to a continuance of the game. Such it is no surprise that every Tuesday at Southeastway a race is conducted in the absence of any adults-except for Bedwell who assumed the task of taking and paying out all the money.

With it becoming colder the kids are no longer in the field by the people path. This is probably because they can't stay warm standing around.

III.
Me First

Scoot Moon comes from either Arkansas or Southwest Missouri and channeled a preference for Moon Pies and Double Cola into a search for adhesive sports drinks. The Self's first memory of him is his explaining to the Shake that he didn't appreciate the mambo dance being done before the last turn. The Chronicles kept an eye on him knowing that a man who would disrespect a sporting icon would soon warrant his own story.

The Eagle Creek No. 2 Circle Jerk is held on the easiest course in North America. Ex lineman, trackers and Monon Trail Posers who can't get into the corner grocery without blowing out their Air Nikes are able to bump, stomp, storm and terrorize on this course without turns. In previous years Moonpie had succumbed to this intimidation, but this day he latched like a Republican on a tax loophole and came second to the Hegemony's Curtis, the Midwest's undisputed best Master Crit Pounder.

Approaching to extend congratulations Self decided to lurk upon hearing the self proclaimed head Estrogen Replacement Burgundy Slimer angrily berate Moonie for his selfishness in not clearing the way for Self Proclaimed. Now, simply out of fear the Self had been top ten out of what passed for the last corner and thus had a clear view of the hysteria that attended the sprint. Quite simply if you slowed you crashed. This was a no fooling around asphalt lean muscle ground chuck avoidance dance; this was a battle to be first to the plane slide; this was as close as you come to proof that fire will make a dead man run screaming; a veritable escape by jump from the Shirt Factory.

So what was to be made of this unexpected display of rancor from the team of the disgustingly good sport Bedwell who has slowed to let a team mate win, from the team of Chuck Moll who was flat robbed and cheated out of a National Title by idiot officials who forgot to turn on the camera and a dishonest competitor and just came back another year to beat the slouch and the Feds. Surely the unleashing of such sourness had a progenitor worth consideration. But, as is turns out the transgression was that Moonpie had usurped valuable IRS Series Points, a singularly insignificant prize that pays no money and awards those who do of all things time trials-sort of a virus you get without the benefit of sexual contact. Second of course is not winning but even in bicycle racing it should be better than last; but deliciously, it gets worse, or better depending upon your incline of descent.

It was hot, humid, and windy for the Lafayette Road Race and as such perfect weather for cotton weevils and Moonpies. So, it was that after a two lap attack by Moles now modeling a Kate Moss Heroin Chic body that Moonie went plain flat show me and left to annoy the wind and two laps later was treating himself to a half cup of drainage water and watching the finish. In the parking lot after Self's early finish of the Dreamer race, it was learned from Enmark that Scootie had again run afoul of the Slime's team scheme. Seems that under the Cracked Mirror rules of Series Points racing it is even worse to finish first than second and thus Moonie's champagne turned to vinegar, all because his ill timed attack had thwarted the team scheme to put more than one Slime up the road so as to increase the chances of winning or at least someone else winning or at least a specific someone. Treachery, recrimination, shattered paradigms, pouting and solemn angst-the stuff of anarchy and you barely have to leave home.

IV.
If Not Me Then Definitely Not You

MKA was back from Bend and after winning the Oregon Master Road Championship the Self permitted the delusion that the ride along the PCH surfer trail would be suffused with regales of good tidings; but then Self had not accounted for an encounter with the demon dominated Simply Godawful Holy Kal only two weeks distanced from Bakersflail. One of the least seen by those who couldn't appreciate it anyway movies is Mamet's "House of Games," in which the Mark learns well the lesson that the key to the con is the giving away of "trust." Such it was that MKA listened uninterrupted for twenty minutes while Kal, wrenched with the memory, told the tale of treachery and godless hedonism that attended the 45 plus Master National Crit-and keep in mind that ten minutes is the longest time in recorded history that Rog listened even to himself.

Now the wind was blowing and Self really didn't care so as with most Chronicles facts are not going to get in the way of the story. Anyway, at the Simply Green With Envy team meeting a drastically shrunk down Hoffy advised that he would really like to win in large part in honor of Susie's "rage against the dying of the light" and what better place to lash at demons of dreams denied than a Before Christian Era desert. But Crusader Kal would have none of it and advised that this oil stained sandlot was his opportunity to precursor the Rapture and his six hundred mile weeks were not to be wasted on sentimentality. Besides, Hoffy had actually won a lot of races and it thus it made perfect White Queen sense for Hoffy to lay it down for Kal who by last count had never beaten even Cleveland, patron saint of all Dreamers.

Now, as with all race accounts the facts change depending upon the source and generally have no relation to what happened; but then Self has never concerned himself with accuracy. Anyway, the Scripture of Kal is that as promised he cleaved to the wheel of Bostick and either did or did not make massive efforts to drive the break, all of course from the back of Bostick. He then reported that Hoffy arrived but brought with him two or three others. Now, being what according to all historical data Hoffy had brought someone to a break about the last time Grant failed to scoff at the suggestion he pull through, the Self began to have doubts. Regardless, Simply Green With Envy had only three in the break and Bostick, well, had only himself, and thus it was gainsay that the only way for the outnumbered and outgunned Simpletons to even things out would have been to attack seriatim and failing that give it over to the proven Sprinter, Hoffy. Had this ill-advised tactic been undertaken a Simply Selfish might have won. But, the risk that it might have been the wrong one was a chance well avoided.

Besides, in fairness who could have expected Bostick to do what he has only done maybe four hundred other times, attack and go solo. Really, there are just some contingencies that cannot be covered. Hoffy was first of the unfinished. Kal had his appearance on the Five Hundred Club cancelled and thus won, at least sort of.

For the record, the Texas Slop Shoppers, nee Auto Mart Hegemony, nee Girl's Car Team was last seen looking for shade under a stop sign.

Butch, Rog and Rican won jerseys but things being how they are the Feds only gave one up to Butch. When Self last checked none of them had been offered 12K for next year. Not even That Jersey can deliver the Dream.

IV
Madhatter Mauling and Striking for Sundialers

Hippstar Before the Dreamer Race

The Hippstar's presence is as Ritalin to MKA and thus Self even paid the tolls to use the private freeway to John Wayne and as planned located Chris sitting right smack in the lap of every Texas refugees' child hood blanket, the statute of the Duke, though given the times Hipp was busy explaining to the Marines that he was just like a kid at Disneyland smoozing up to Minny Mouse and besides he keep saying "you need me on this Lap." Now, Hipp is constantly wired into satellite transmissions and thus it took two hours for the terminally bored Marines to let set him free and as such MKA was in full un-tranquilized frenzy upon arrival. Hipp gets excited about as often as Bush Lite thinks for himself, so he was pretty much unflustered by the exhortations to load the car as for once we would get to Manhattan Beach before the race started. This would be of no moment except that the next morning MKA for the fourth year in a row missed the exit to Manhattan, landed us in Santa Monica and while arguing with Hipp was interrupted by Ann's call that he had left his race bag and wheels in the driveway. Of course, having been there before the Self had grabbed Rog's extra shoes off the table and had packed extra clothes. As per Rog complained that the Skin Suit had no holes and thus too Pritty.

As it came to pass, Butch, with inestimable help from Self won our race and in the main event Labor put on its typical Manhatty flail show and came like second, third, and then some. In fairness it must be noted that Simple's Tino won the Forty Plus.

The ladies came out in full force and thrilled the crowd.

In the Dreamer race Dennis, fresh off the day before cashing large in the Elite Dreamer race, was easily big Franklins when a Pro Dreamer was distracted by one of the horde of unabashedly delightful beach ladies and fell over in the last turn. Denny, was last heard screaming and last seen scrounging gas money, what with he and the Self having had to bail MKA's car out of towage in Chino; but that is a story best left for posthumous telling. As with most runs of luck, the next Tuesday after Long Beach, Hilton Clark failed to tie his bike down and it came off the roof and broke the rear window of Denny's new car. Just to tally. Prize money won "$250.00; towing, $300.00: windshield, $500.00; Pain, PRICELESS.

Patrick Feltzer went to no end to obtain permission to close some streets in Laguna Beach on a Saturday in September to hold the Laguna Beach Gran Prix that paid, thanks in part to MARF and Labor, some ten large. Now, one Furball makes up for perhaps a hundred of Self like malcontents but not even one so dammably pleasant and cheerful can provide succor to a Sundialer denied her tan. The Self had pretty much rung all the fun from this subject matter but this is a mine that even when boarded up just can't stop exploding full formed ingots.

Because of time constraints on the closure of streets the Gran Prix did not include a women's race. So, it came to pass that an email from a lady professional came across the desk and with the Self being challenged for a theme it was serendipity. It was logic straight from the White Queen, paradox cubed.

It was explained that it was a mistake for Patrick not to have a Charmer race, the conceit being that spectators really only come out to see the ladies who put on the best show. If there was limited time Patrick was advised to eliminate the Masters who could after all if they were any good just do a Cat IV race or something, or even a group touring ride earlier in the day. Now, the logic of giving up sponsorship and the entry fees of a few hundred masters is hard to deny; and especially so when she went on to bolster that of course the Charm race would have to be in the afternoon as it would surely be the main event. And if that weren't enough to close the deal she continued that as the Charmers had been racing since February it would be a good idea to move the race to the Spring because most of the Ladies were too burned out to attend a race in late September. There is simply no counter.

Ever since kissing Star Lowry after a pool party it was obvious that women were always going to hold complete sway over the Self, who has never considered that William Hurt played the fool for Kathleen Turner. As such it was of no surprise to learn that some teams were going to boycott Laguna. The Self didn't even bother to point out the anomaly of striking a race that was too late in the season for the women to attend anyway. The helplessness of men in these matters is irrespective their position in or in front of the cracked mirror.

The race by the way was a great success and Patrick desires kind letters.

Ride fast and take chances.

Bill Stone