Google vs. Good Search

Meredith wrote:
The Food Allergy & AnaphylaxisNetwork is asking that instead of using Google or other search engines that you try using goodsearch.com. GoodSearch.com donates half its revenue to the charities its users designate. You use it just as you would any search engine, and it's powered by Yahoo! so you get great results. Just go to GoodSearch.com and enter FAAN (Food Allergy & Anaphylaxis Network) as the charity you want to support. You can also shop using GoodShop.com and they will donate to your chosen charity. On Nov. 23 FAAN will be honored as Charity of the Day on GoodSearch.com every search made on that day will generate a contribution to FAAN!

I wrote: I just Googled goodsearch.com and I'm not sure I like it. I'm kind of old-fashioned.

Meredith wrote: You’re kind of smart ass too.

I wrote: Have you ever Googled “smart ass”? The results are pretty funny.

Meredith wrote: No, but I Goodsearched it.

I wrote: Whatever. Mom likes me best. Grandma too.

Meredith wrote: Big deal. I got dad. And mom only likes you best because you always try to make her feel sorry for you. It's just pity love.

I wrote: You should be nicer. I'm going to post this conversation on my blog.

Meredith wrote: You taught me everything I know.

"Good luck getting out of here."

That was the support I got from a truck load of fisherman as I climbed Warm Springs from the back side and bottom of the 7 Oaks dam in gale force winds. They at least gave me a bottle of water (which I packed out), but didn't offer a ride. On any normal day the Warm Springs climb is nothing to blog about, but on Sunday I didn't even begin the climb until I was 4 hours into my ride and I was single-speeding it, 1x1, one-f'ing speed, as Trevor calls it. But even the lack of gears and the intimidating wind wasn't what made Warm Springs suck. It was the amount trash strewn along the two-track that made me want to vomit.

• Bud Light cans and boxes
• Coors Light cans and boxes
• Miller Light cans and boxes
• Natural Light cans and boxes
• Water bottles
• Smashed sewing machine
• Shotgun shells
• Medicine dropper
• Random car parts
• McDonalds paper cup

From all this trash I can only deduct that fisherman drink a lot of crappy beer, and litter too. Bastards.

So, anyway I survived. I started around 6:15 a.m. at Loch Leven, climbed to the Angelus Oaks turn-out in 40-flat, caught a ride from Johnson, Edward, & Kerrie up to the Jenks Lake East turn-out, rode up to poop-out (cleaned it), cut across to Glass Road and that's where things got interesting. Riding solo out of 7 Oaks (and with a broken spoke), I decided to explore unchartered 1N09. It was a sweet ride. I just didn't know where the hell I was for most of it. Reaching the back side of the dam was a welcoming site, but by that point, the wind was howling and I still had another hour of climbing ahead of me. When it was all said, done and downloaded, I had ridden that damn single-speed more than 49 miles & climbed more than 10-thousand feet in 5 hours flat. In my mind, it kind of makes up for my Everest Challenge failure. Kinda.

The moral of this story is don't litter when you're fishing behind the 7 Oaks Dam and if you want to get rid of sewing machine, take it to the Salvation Army.

On a lighter side, here's a photo of me from Snowmass.

The Favre Louvre

There was mail in the mail box, no trash in my trash cans and all my checks cleared today, which means only one thing: Brett Favre's birthday is not a National Holiday yet. But, I bet somewhere in Wisconsin and in Mississppi, some poor bastards couldn't cash their unemployment checks.


What has Christopher Columbus done for us lately? He may have been a great raiser of funds, but he was a piss-poor navigator. I compare that to Favre's quarterback greatness, with the uncanny ability to still throw a pick (or two) in the most inopportune times. Anyway, I digress and now I'm splitting hairs. Last Monday was Columbus Day. What they should do is scrap Columbus Day (like they did Abe Lincoln Day) and make it Favre Day. The King of QBs deserves his own day. Afterall, anyone who has inspired so much beautiful artwork deserves his own day.

This is probably my favorite oil painting of Favre. The inspiration for the helmetless Brett came during the 1997 Super Bowl when the triumphant QB smirked across the field, as if to tell Patriots' head coach, Bill Parcels, that he and his Drew Bledsoe-led team had nothing on Green Bay. Packers 35, Patriots 21.

Apparently comic book geeks aren't into football because this gem never made it to Comic-Con. Ironic too, because rumor on the street is that Favre's powers have inspired the creation of many fictional comic book characters. Heroes of course.

The guy mentioned retirement maybe once or twice and they already chiseled out a bust for him in Canton. I bet they already embroided up his jacket too. Coincidentally, the Favre wing of the Football Hall of Fame will open in Summer of 2008.

I'm not a big fan of black and white Favres because it kind of gives me the creeps. Like he was traded to the Raiders or something. But, as far as grey-tones go, this is probably my favorite. Look at the concentration in his black eyes.

Believe it or not, there was a time when the Green Bay offensive line was as helpless as a newborn baby. Favre on the run, like in this classic watercolor, was a common sight. An impressive fact is that this is a self portrait painted during an actual game at Lambeau Field. His paint brushes and pallet were hidden inside the handwarmer that he wore around his waste.

Colored pencils never produced a more beautiful sketch. True, Favre's face is a little on the pudgy side, but you should have seen the spread on the set of Something About Mary. Cameron Diaz gained a pound or two during filming too.

This one defines Green Bay football. In the trenches, struggling for NFL domination, dropping back into the pocket, setting up to throw yet another record braking pass. This would look great painted on the side of my next van.

Okay, let me give it to you straight. This Andy Warhol-esque piece was done during the pain killer years. Still, it beats the hell out of an image of a Cambell's Soup Can or a freaking banana.

The kid who painted this is obviously a better artist than he is a mathlete. Here's the story: Junior claims his subject is Favre, but the number on the jersey is 84, which belonged to Sterling Sharpe. The subject's hands look white, but his face looks black, so this kid was really confused. And how about those eye lashes. I changed my mind. I give this one a one-legged A, also known as an F.

I have no analysis of this tear-jerker painted by John Madden, just a title and the title says it all: Magic Monday Night. I wonder if the old man painted it in the bus, the horse trailer or up in the booth?

Technically this isn't art, in the true definition of the word, but at some point a graphic "artist" had to touch it, so I'll include it. Plus, I like the fact that it's not a Peyton Manning-endorsed product (those are hard to come by) and that it's a battery advertisement. Favre keeps going and going and going and...

October 10 Should Be a National Holiday

Happy Birthday Brett

This Kid Has His Stuff Together

25 days 'til Shane.

The Everest Challenge Disaster

I made the disappointing discovery of why so many people fail to finish Everest Challenge (EC) on their first try. It's hard. Hard beyound explanation. I know this because finishers and non-finishers of the event have explained its difficulty to me and their tales failed miserably. Their description of the route was accurate, however, short of throwing me to the ground and stomping on my legs and stomach while cursing my mother's name; there is no accurate description of how actually riding EC will make you feel. And I didn't even finish the first day.

Sure, a better analysis of the course profile and better examination of the huge time gaps between finishers in past results would have told me that EC is not a bike race. It's an endurance event. Instead, I thought, "I can climb with the best of them." Them, of course, being past winners of the event. And so, with very little EC training, me, my parents, Denise and Ryder drove up to Bishop, and I gave it a go.

My goal was to finish until we hit the base of the first climb, and because I think I can climb with the best of them, my goal turned into winning. Ironically, that's when all of the steep and long ascents of EC came descending down on me. If I remember correctly, I was the second to crumble in our 8-man break. I wrote a check with funds from my mind that my body couldn't cash. The oddity, for me anyway, is that the final nail in the coffin was cramping and after five-and-half hours and 90-some miles, I pulled a Petachi. Within 10 uphill kilometers of the finish, and I couldn't close the deal. As I rigidly climbed into the Freeman team car, I was careful not to shut my tail in the door.

I got over the disappointment quick. Especially after we drove day two's final 20-mile climb and instead of cheering spectators lining the course, it was snow. Epic roads and epic scenary don't always make for epic bike racing. I'm not discrediting those who finish because it's an incredible feat, especially for the headstrong that take upwards of 8 hours to finish the first day and then wake up to ride again. I'm just saying that it took failing for me to discover that Everest Challenge isn't my Everest. And finishing it isn't enough for me either. To do it right; to actually have a chance at winning, I think I'd have to dedicate about two months to EC. There's just too much fun stuff to do on a bike other than train for a single two-day event. Life's too short for that shit.

Now the good stuff:

Wake up sleepy kid! It's 6 o'clock in the morning and it's time to go follow Daddy up and down the Sierra Nevadas for hours on end from the back of Jeep Wrangler. Bring Mickey and your dog without a name. They can suffer too.

Awe, the start of bright new day. I should have said my apologies then.

The silver lining was the scenery.

The ruined rider and Grandma CindyJoyce watch Ryder throw bread to the birds. Note, that if my numb hands weren't between my legs, you'd probably be able to see my tail.

The ride up to Bishop is a long one, so my Dad and Ryder split up driving duties...

...which resulted in, yet another, run-in with the law for Ryder. Luckily he made bail.

Ryder's luck continued throughout the weekend when my parents treated him to a visit to a choo-choo train museum and to dinner at Whiskey Creek on Saturday night. I think he had steak.

It was a pretty good weekend and awfully nice of my parents to spend it with us.

Before Everest Challenge, there was Disneyland

Ryder discovers that it is, indeed, a small world. He was so joyed by all the peace, love and tolerance that he nearly went overboard. For real. I told him that the water in It's a Small World is actually Disneyland's recycled toilet water, but that didn't prevent him from trying to reach out of the vessel and dip his hands in the Disney holy water. He broke rule number one.

Securuity is tight. If you don't keep your hands and arms inside It's a Small World, they throw you in the Disneyland Mobile Clink with your next of kin. We were sentenced to 5 to 10 (minutes) on the Casey Jones Railroad.

The moment of truth. For his good behavior, Ryder was forgiven for his crime and granted a full pardon by the warden.

The whole experience was exhausting.

Before we could sneak him on to Space Mountain, Ryder passed out and so we called it a day. Next time.

Everyone is racing cross these days.

Good for them.

Everyone is updating their blogs these days.

Good for them.

Salad Days

UPDATE: I had the best intentions to publicly ridicule myself with a flavorful explanation of this classic photo, but the mail person brought me a new Velo News, Cycle News and my first pay check in weeks, so there is celebrating to be done. Use your imagination regarding the photo; I was 18, it was the '90s, the fanny pack doubled as a camera bag and sunglass leashes were (and still are) functional.

Like you never wore white tube socks...

A Gallery of Unemployment

Ryder & I went out to crit last night, because that's just what we do and the little wheel sucker loves it.

Back at Snowmass, I close my eyes and cross my fingers hoping that I get a call-up sooner than 77th. No such luck. On the far right Sager looks thrilled to have had his suspension lifted.

Southern Californians invaded Colorado. I'm not sure what Joy has hanging from her neck. It's a foreign object I've not seen recently.

Here's one for you: In Colorado trails run through streams and the streams have water in them.

There are also sharp objects in the streams. In my college speech class, I did a demonstrative speech on how to change a mtb tube. I think I got a B+ instead of an A on the account that I acted nervous because people were watching me. Deja vu.

Back at crit: Ryder does his best Al Bundy. Meanwhile, I've been riding so much lately that I've been reduced to wearing old bibs and jerseys. I need to find some time to do laundry.

Joy brought Dozer out to crit. I thought it was cool and all until Ryder came down with kennel cough later that night. I think Kramer had that once too.

Here's another one for you: In Colorado the plants and trees are green.

I've seen less holes in a screen door.

The Effects of Unemployment

On the positive side, this could bode well for Everest Challenge.

Ryder Started Pre-School Yesterday

This poor kid has been duped. Little did he know that moments after this photo was taken his parents would abandon him and leave him with total strangers.

I made the trip to Snowmass, CO for the NMBS Finale because, why not, I don't have a job. The hardest part was leaving Ryder for that many days and it got even harder when the poor dude came down with the flu on Wednesday and I wasn't there for him. I owe Denise big time for that one, for sure. By Friday evening Ryder was eatting Grandma Cindy's tacos like it was the last supper and I was able to start Saturday's race with a somewhat clear head.

I got called up 77th (second to last). It was great. Just me and some other poor guy sitting 10 feet behind a huge field waiting for Larry Longo to give us props. The situation got worse because the first 20 minutes of the race was single-track climbing with no passing. We raced it slower than we pre-rode it. Gaps galore, but what can you do?

I rode much of the race with some of the series regulars (even the ones that live at altitude), so that was nice in a painful kind of way. At one point I was running inside the 50s, but brain faded, missed a left hander and had to double back. I tried to catch and pass those who got by me, but at 10,000 feet it ain't easy. Instead I blew and finished 58th. Not great, but not bad for my third race on a geared bike all year and at a Nat'l at altitude.

The next afternoon I came down with a soar throat and ear ache, which didn't help Saturday's effort much, but what can you do? That's my story.

An actual race only lasts a few hours, but the time spent at the race lasts for days. As usual I got the chance to pre-ride and hang out with a lot of cool people. Joy's family took care of our condo, food and all the racers in our circle, which was way cool of them. They also did my feed, under less-than-stellar conditions. A big thanks for that. I rode a ton with her brother Jeremy, who lives in the Boulder area, and with the PossAbilities gang. Did some feeding with the Backbone Boys (thanks for the fleece James) and got hooked up with the hot Bontrager tubeless tire set-up (after an unfortunate pre-ride flat) from Jon Rourke and the factory Subaru Gary Fisher Team. I won't, but I could sit here for hours and talk about Adam Hart's stories, the drive, Joy's Nat'l Championship, the riding & my race. Like you don't even know.

Jeremy, Adam & Eric pretend they don't know I'm taking a photo with my crappy camera.

This was as flat as it got. Everything else was either straight up or straight down. And rocky.

This is how they roll in the Aspen area. A bike wash and with towels to boot.

Just when I thought I was out, they keep pulling me back in.

Gimme Gimme Me Shock Treatment

I was feeling sick I was loosing my mind
I heard about these treatments
From a good friend of mine he was always happy smile on his face
He said he had a great time at the place

Peace and love is here to stay and now I can wake up and face the day Happy happy happy all the time shock treatment, I'm doing fine

Gimme gimme shock treatment Gimme gimme shock treatment Gimme gimme shock treatment I wanna, wanna shock treatment

I was feeling sick I was loosing my mind I heard about these treatments From a good friend of mine he was always happy smile on his face He said he had a great time at the place

Peace and love is here to stay and now I can wake up and face the day Happy happy happy all the time shock treatment, I'm doing fine

Gimme gimme shock treatment Gimme gimme shock treatment Gimme gimme shock treatment Gimme gimme shock treatment Gimme gimme shock treatment Gimme gimme shock treatment Gimme gimme shock treatment I wanna, wanna shock treatment

I'm Mr. Mom now. K&N gave me the shaft last week (because I knew too much) and so I get to spend some time towing Ryder around and taking him to his classes at My Gym. Rad. I sure will miss him when I'm in Snowmass.

Not sure what I'll do for work next. I have a month or two before the well runs totatly dry, but hopefully it won't get to that point. I just need a little time to decompress before I jump into the job search. It definately came as a shock...

Get To Know Brett Kinsfather

Freemanrace: What was your first impression of me?
Brett Kinsfather: What's with the gallon jug of water?

What is your impression of me today? Where's the gallon jug of water?

Brett Favre: Great or Greatest? Great quarterback, greater pain killer addict.

If I gave you 200 bucks to go buy a gift, what would you buy me?
I'd bribe someone to give you a better job.

If I gave you 50 bucks to buy yourself a gift, what would you buy?
Contacts...I'm f’ing through with glasses.

I hear bad habits are hard to break. Are there any bad habits you’d like to break? My bad habit of continually ripping on the same people.

Courtney Love: Victim or Misunderstood? At one point in time, she had a great rack.

What do you think of my Nuns Having Fun calendar and does it offend you? An office cubicle must.

I consider myself superior to the average Joe because I ride bikes. Why don’t you ride bikes? I consider someone who can kill another man with their bare hands superior to anyone who rides a bike.

What do you think my first impression of you was? Where the effe did this guy come from and where is his gallon jug of water?

What do you think my impression of you today is? One of the few people who understand Matt's love/hate relationship with all living creatures.

Do you have any parting words? I heard two Louie Bono stories recently. The first one was that he has spent some time in a mental facility. The second one was my friend overhearing this come out of Louie's mouth to a girl at a recent wedding: "Hey, you know I have a room at the hotel for after the reception...I'm in room D, Big D." He then proceeded to laugh hysterically to himself.

- Brett Kinsfather is an internet minister currently residing in Illinois. He spends his time building hot rods, looking for employment and compiling stories for an upcoming biography about his childhood friend, Louie Bono, who’s the dumbest man alive. Brett’s only regret in life is that he’ll never get back the time spent waiting for Bill Crites to finish eating the many dinners they shared together.

Tossers Tuesday

Actually, every tuesday is Tossers Tuesday in my book, but yesterday was a True Tossers Tuesday. We saw them at the Galaxy Theatre. I forgot what a shithole that place was, but I digress. The opening bands were horrible, the Street Dogs were so-so and The Tossers were freaking awesome. Joey and I chatted up Tony Duggins, the singer, on our way out the door. He was completely pissed (that means drunk), but very talkative.

Right now I'm not very talkative. I think I'll go ride my bike...