Tour de Pants

The Tour of France by bicycle lasts most of the month of July. This year I think I read 2 articles about it. One was how the 2 guys who cover the race on TV are brilliant and the other one a couple of days ago discussing how the rider from the winning team is part of a system that has made the race boring by their success. Despite reading both of these articles (skimming is more like it) I cannot tell you who actually won the race.

Crashes in bike races, especially road bikes, is part of the fun of watching. Sort of like NASCAR. Fast cars driving around an oval shaped track for hours on end. When they show the highlights, what do they show other than the winner drinking milk and the crashes? That’s right.

The Tour de France is one of those elitist sports that people who don’t watch the debased American sports like football and soccer claim to watch. Sort of like being a vegan…you’ll know if someone follows the tour within 5 minutes of meeting them. World cup soccer, international tennis, cricket, the list goes on and on. All of these things are fine, including being a vegan if you want to do that (dog whistle to Leon), I just don’t want to hear about how they’re superior to traditional American sports!

Imagine yourself here: Lapeerpalooza TOWMJGM

Right here:

Or, if you’re not the social type, here, off by yourself:

 

Pay no attention to the fact that the deck currently has no rails. That has NOTHING to do with the plans for MJ’s “disappearance”. We’re ordering the wire this week, and hopefully that will be rectified.

Perhaps you’d want to zip around the lake on one of our jet skis!!!  For the low, low price of a glass of wine paid to me, this can happen.

 

My crack mechanic (#2 son Matt)  is at work getting them in top condition as I write:

 

 

We have TOP NOTCH accommodations here at Chez Car in and this can be had at a very reasonable rate **again a nice hearty glass of wine, and whoever needs it/asks first

 

I got a bunch of these cool light things for the deck, but I haven’t figured out how exactly I’m going to put them up:

 

I may try something new while I have guests, and as soon as I figure what this guy is saying I’ll try to whip some of this up. I don’t know how many more times I’m going to have to watch it …

There’s sure to be some awesome music on the deck too as I give everyone a very complete presentation of what’s currently rotating on my playlist.

And don’t forget the real reason for coming to Lapeerpalooza …

 

He’s dirty.

He’s smelly.

But he’s 155 pounds of pure love. Let’s all have a nice round of applause for MOOOOOOSE.

 

(not actual size – this is from last year)

 

Well, i don’t know what the heck else I can do to convince everyone?

Maybe this –  one last picture of moose:

 

 

 

Anus Lickers

What a nasty title –

One of you reprobates make sure you stomp this POS poat ASAP – it’s your calling in life.

Oh & anyone that’s stupid enough to open the following links at work needs to be self employed, or fired… or both – fair warning.

I guess some people will do anything given the right circumstances.

Speaking of C**ts

So funny I bust my felt wiiiiiiddddeee open.

Big Boob Friday

Hello weekday and weekend warriors. This has been a really interesting week for the MJ household. First, I found out that although interpuppet sex generally doesn’t end with procreation, we have succeeded. Second, wiser can suck a dick, nay a whole bag of them. And finally, the blog really misses Cyn. Whatever Jimbro, Pupster, and James did to run her off will requires punishment. I suggest that we each send them a flaming bag of gratitude.

*

I wrote this song for Hotspur.

MMM 255: 2017, aka the best year ever

Because for an entire calendar year, Hillary! will never be president.  Today is New Year’s Day (Observed) at my office, so I’m going to try and get a workout in, do some office rearranging, and tidy up so that I can begin the year with a fresh, energized perspective.

How are you starting your year?

Shades indoors?  Weird.

Tire Wire

Jorge de la Vega

b 1930 Buenos Aries, Vermont d. 1971

Star Wire

What follows is an uncharacteristically wordy post.  It is not necessarily about art.
It has been a week since we learned of the too soon passing of our dear friend.  Much has been said about him and much has been shared regarding our feelings of loss and of joy and of laughter.

And that is good.

Rose is where he started and we are where we are.

We are still us.

We are different.

We are simultaneously diminished and reinforced.

And so, In the spirit of our group I would like to recognize another fellow without whom this salon would not be the same.  A man who in our presence routinely puts his heart on exhibit and has in a forthright fashion invited us to do likewise.

On a morning of utter dispair and heart broken confusion it was by his timely guidance and caring correspondence that I began to feel my blood flow and my breath return after such a trial of profoundly shocking sadness.

He laid bare that tragedy so that we might contemplate a path to healing.

He cares.

On any given evening his earnest effusions of angst and polemic are fiery and to the point; and on each Saturn’s Day his talent and wit are courageously put on display for all to enjoy and criticize.

He is thoughtful.

When I was invited to post here he said to me, “Here’s the keys, Kid.  Go fuckin’ nuts!”  Promptly, upon mine first post, he must have realized that I am an artfag and probably lamented what had become of this Fast-Forward Banglor Political Blogtank of Awesomeness.

At any rate, In a figleaf moment he commented, “Well, do a Georgia O’Keeffe post.”

As it happens, I don’t do requests.

Although, as fate would have it the artist fits in rather well this week in our further unwinding of Modernism in contemporary art and so…

Mr. Wiserpants, this Bud’s for you.

With many thanks and caring.

You are a good friend to us all and we are truly lucky to have you.