http://brainbucketmag.com/ Brain Bucket Magazine - Daily Motorcycle News and Event Coverage en-us Wed, 01 Jul 2009 17:54:33 GMT 1440 CPG-Nuke Dragonfly Brain Bucket Magazine News http://backend.userland.com/rss http://brainbucketmag.com/images/logo.gif http://brainbucketmag.com/ http://brainbucketmag.com/Blogs/display/mode=display/id=432.htmlI’m going to pick up a new motorcycle tomorrow. Actually, I’m leaving today as the bike is in Norrisville, PA, about 9 hours from where I live near Chillicothe, OH. This got me thinking about a few things. First, I would like to describe the bike. This bike is a ground up custom. No, it’s not like the crap you see coming out of Orange County (which is in New York not California you idiots). It’s nothing like the exotic creations by builders like Matt Hotch, The Martin Brothers, Kendall Johnson, or Arlen Ness. It’s not a technical marvel one would expect from Mike Brown of Amen Motorcycles. Nope, this bike is a bare bones, no frills bobber more in the Sucker Punch Sally style with as little bit of Jesse James and India Larry mixed in. I’ve wanted a bike like this for a long time now. She’ll make a great addition to my stable, sitting proudly right next to my old police cruiser. I’m looking forward to spending some quality time with her. The point of this isn’t to brag or point out how cool I am (I am very kickass by the way!). Nope. It’s to talk about my disdain for the middle aged poser that goes out and buys a motorcycle in some dire need to fit an image. More aptly, this is about my disdain for tragic losers. I made a comment to a friend a while back about how a 40 year old man having a Corvette was tragic. “But Mike, what is this ‘tragic’ you refer to?” you might ask. Good question. I looked up tragic in Merriam-Webster and found the best fitting textbook definition. It read “regrettably serious or unpleasant: DEPLORABLE, LAMENTABLE marked by a sense of tragedy.” More specifically, the tragic I am referring to is the middle aged (or even as young as 30) person that buys all of the new hip gear, parties at clubs designed for 20 something’s, and generally won’t let go of or is trying to rekindle the youth and vitality they had in their earlier years. Not only is the tragic person trying to recapture that youth, but they are overdoing it. They are trying to be cooler than they were when they were younger and it’s pathetic. Now, a 40 year old man with a Corvette in and of itself isn’t tragic. I’m all for someone loving a certain car, motorcycle, whatever and collecting them or having them in their life. It’s the 40 year old that buys one to try to fit into some image he wants to make for himself that is tragic. Listen, bub. You’re not cool because all of the sudden you’ve got a good job can buy that $40,000 sports car! You’re not cool because you can afford a toy that only gets out of the garage when the stars align and Pluto is in your Jupiter moon. You’re a loser and anyone with a brain can see straight through it. And then there’s the tragic 30 year old loser that spends Friday nights at Da Club! Listen here honey, you’re not some uber chic hot party girl that everyone wants to hang out with when you’re 30+ and go to the Cadillac Ranch. No, the reason everyone wants to be around you is because they see you as easy prey. The average guy, me included, thinks you are trying to recapture what you had in your early twenties and will stop at nothing to get that feeling back. They hover around because they might just be there when you decide it’s time for some random hookup. Now, I have no problem with people going out and having a good time with or without alcohol. God knows I do it enough! I also have no issue with folks in their 30’s going to a 20 something club. I do that to from time to time as well. Hell, even I need a slump buster every now and then. No, what I’m referring to is the tragic chump loser that does that every weekend or wants to take friends from out of town to a place like that. Grow up! You may be in a fraternity or sorority, but your college days are ancient history! Seriously! And then there’s the dumbasses that buy the latest gear. Ed Hardy comes to mind. Yeah, I know all of the cool rich kids are wearing it and the middle class kids all wanna wear it. It’s the same thing I went through in high school. Wearing that shit only makes you look like you’re trying to be those cool kids from high school. You’re in your fuckin’ 30’s. Get your own fuckin’ style. And no, the fact that you can wear an $80 t-shirt does not show you have money. It shows you’re a buffoon who is probably broke or in debt up to your eyeballs! That crap does not make you look classy and is a waste of money. Wanna buy high quality designer labels? Try some D&G, Prada, Gucci, or Armani. Hell, maybe some Guess or Diesel might work for you. But please leave that Ed Hardy shit for the kids. And while we’re at it, go ahead and leave that Affliction crap for the guys who are badasses and prove it in the ring. That’s MMA gear, you retards. You look like a wannabe when you wear that shit. “But Mike, I always see you wearing some Harley shirt or some biker stuff? Doesn’t that make you tragic?” you’re probably asking right now. No, you dumbass! Didn’t you read anything I wrote? Or are you just that stupid? I’m not the poser. I am the guy the poser wants to be, or at least make people think he is. I’ve been riding for 20 years. I live the lifestyle and have been for the better part of two decades. Speaking of which, I need some time in the saddle right now.Wednesday, July 01, 2009 (17:54:33)http://brainbucketmag.com/Blogs/display/mode=display/id=431.htmlWell, I went back to Cincinnati this weekend for more good times with Brian. I know that’s a shock to you guys. But in a twist I didn’t go for the whole weekend. I stayed in Chillicothe Friday night and rode out to Cincy Saturday afternoon. I packed up the old police bike and headed out there around 1:30. Damn, it was a pretty ride. The sun was out, but it wasn’t too warm. Getting to Brian’s was kinda bittersweet. I didn’t want the ride to end, but then again I really wanted to hand with my best friend. Plus, I was hungry. We headed out to Skyline for some of their fantabulous chili. I love that shit. I think I ordered a little too much with a large 3-way though. We went back to Brian’s place to get ready to head out. We were both tired, so we pulled up a piece of couch and loveseat (separately you freaks!) for a quick powernap. Man that helped. Andy was one his way over and we were going to head out to a little pub to say hi to a friend and then to start our night at Sidebar in Newport. This is where it started to get interesting. Brian was set to play with Leroy Ellington and the E Funk Band. They’re a lot of fun and I always have a good time partying with them. I strongly recommend you try to get out to one of their shows. The band is mostly dudes. They have a female crooner who is always a pleasure to listen to and even more fun to stare at, I mean watch. I said that out loud didn’t I? I’ve always got this flirty thing going on with her. It’s more harmless than anything else. She’s dating some dude and I don’t wanna push the envelope. I’d rather be able to hang with those guys and have fun than I would make it some awkward deal over a girl. Now if she tossed it to me, I would definitely snatch it up. No pun intended! Damn, she looked good that night. She had darkened her hair and was sporting some curly locks. It was sexy. And I told her so! I walked right up and gave her a hug and commented her immediately. She graciously accepted. Later she would ask me if I were gay. “No honey, I just notice you!” She was standing near a table and there was some dude sitting there wearing a backwards ballcap. Just as soon as he got the opportunity, he piped up to introduce himself. “I’m Rick, her boyfriend,” he announced. “Good for you man! What is that your new title?” I asked. “I was that last week. Glad I could pass on the torch!” “No, that was two weeks ago,” Sultry Singer added. You see a couple of weeks ago they were playing a show at a Catholic festival. I was talking to her and a fan came up. Sultry Singer introduced me as her boyfriend as a joke. But the fan totally bought it. When the band started playing again, she started asking me all of these questions about Sultry Singer. She totally didn’t believe me when I said that I wasn’t dating her and that was a joke. Maybe there’s something to that after all! That poor kid didn’t know how to react. Everybody was chuckling at him. What a chode! I mean seriously, are you that insecure about yourself to immediately identify yourself as her boyfriend everywhere you go? Anybody with a brain coulda figured that out! What a motard! And then he sat in the same chair all night! At least that's what a friend told us. Andy and I hit four or five bars before we finally made it back to sidebar. We even went to Prom at an Irish Pub! Whenever she would take a break, he was there patiently waiting. This dufus was ever so eager to put his hand on her when she sat next to him marking his territory. I wouldn’t be surprised if he pissed on her somewhere in the night! She’s hot, but seriously! The dude was acting like a needy little bitch! There’s an art to dating a hot chick and he’s fucking it up at a high rate of speed! You have to act like you don’t care. It’s ironic, I know. But you have to make it seem like you’re gonna get a hot chick and she just happens to be the lucky one that minute. You’re flippin’ the script on her. She’s the hot one and dudes are tripping all over themselves to get with her. There’s guys that are better looking than you, have more money than you, and just generally have way more to offer than you do. But you have to behave like you’re the one with all the chicks falling over to get with you. You have to have the mindset that if she weren’t there, you’d be falling into something new anytime you wanted. I’m not saying treat her like shit. But don’t sweat her hotness. All you do is come off like a chode. Eventually, she will move on to someone who can handle her hotness. We made fun of that guy all night!Monday, June 29, 2009 (23:13:00)http://brainbucketmag.com/Blogs/display/mode=display/id=430.htmlI don’t normally write about my dating/sex life. But last night something happened and I have to tell you about it. This is probably going to be an eye opener for some of you and I hope that you take my words to heart. I met this one girl, woman actually, through some friends. She’s a cocktail waitress at one of my favorite pubs in Chillicothe. She’s in her early 30’s with red hair. She’s cute, but not a stunner. Before I go any further, I can hear you chicks saying, “It’s all about looks! You men are such pigs!” Well, let’s be honest. Men are visual creatures. I will be honest and say that a lot of us have a difficult time seeing a great fun chick that may not be a 7 or better as a potential mate/girlfriend. And sadly, a lot of us can’t be friends with females without wanting to bang ‘em. But that’s a whole other issue I’ll address later. Now, I’ve dated models and actresses that you may have seen in the pages of Maxim, Playboy, and other guy mags as well as movies. I’ve also dated girls that don’t turn heads quite like the arm trophies do. I'm more interested in the underlying personality. You’ve gotta be a fun chick for me to hang with you. Don’t message me or post here that you wanna see proof, you non-believers. A gentleman never kisses and tells. If I have to validate myself, I don’t care you read on or not. So, back to cocktail waitress. I went to said favorite pub last night, expecting to see her working there. She wasn’t. I didn’t really go to see her per se, but I thought that saying ‘hi’ would keep the lines open. We’ve been out a couple of times. One thing she really has going for her is that she loves to ride motorcycles. Since I spend a lot of time riding, about 12k miles a year for mostly pleasure and some commuting, that ranks high on my list. One thing she’s lacking is a lack of self-expression. I don’t know if she’s just a little on the simple/complacent side, but there’s a lack of intellectually stimulating conversation there for sure. The last time we went out, actually, I had better conversation with her gay waiter friend. I actually gave him my number and made it very clear we should hang out from time to time. No, I’m not gay you retards. If you haven’t befriended a gay man, you’re missing out. These guys can be some of the best wingmen you’ll ever have. They hang around hot chicks all the time. Since they like guys but have penises, I think that they carry more cred with hot chicks. They are the best of both worlds for chicks. The girl is getting attention from a guy, but he has no interest in doing the deed with her. I call ‘em chick crack. So, that was about three weeks ago. I’ve been having on again off again contact with her since then. She’s asked me out and I’ve just been busy. She asked me to a party a couple of weeks ago and I was in Cincy with Brian. Yesterday, she texted some lame Michael Jackson joke. When I saw her at said pub hanging out and not working, she ran right up and gave me a big hug. “Hey Mike!” she said. “I sent you a text today. What did you think about it?” It took me a minute to remember what she sent, since I had all but ignored the text and the five others just like it I got from other people. And then the light came on. If you were standing right next to me, you woulda been blinded. “Yeah, I remember that. It was some Michael Jackson joke. I just ignored that and the five other exact same jokes I got from other friends.” In retrospect, that may have been a mistake. Looking back at it, she may have taken that comment like I was ignoring her and not the joke itself. I know that logic will tell you that I wasn't ignoring her. But chicks are not logical creatures. That comment may have had some influence on an interaction with her later in the night. So, I’m hanging out and the pub making all kinds of new friends. I met a really cute 22 year old with sandy blonde hair and streaks. I spent quite a bit of time talking with her. Then there was Chase. Chase was a happening dude that was hanging with four girls, two of which were pretty hot. I just had to meet Chase. Before you know it a brunette from that group and I were chatting each other up. I’m not telling you this to brag. I think she saw these interactions and that had an influence what I’m about to tell you next. And this is a doozy! She walks up to me when I wasn’t talking to anybody all by myself up at the bar. She said, “You know what, Mike? You’re gonna realize that I am a great girl and when you ready to be serious and want a relationship, you’re gonna wish you had called me.” “Why the spite?” I asked. “No spite. I’m just pointing out the facts. Mike, I think you’re an amazing guy, but you’re missing out on a great thing.” “Well honey, you’re not winning right now.” Girls (and guys) if you feel like you’ve been wronged by the opposite sex, sulk on your own or at the very most with your closest friend(s). Do not ever call said person out in public like that or in private for that matter. You may think that you’re justified, but all you’re doing is showing everybody around and the person you're calling out that you are needy. You’re definitely not going to win over the object of your affections with that kind of behavior! She didn’t make a scene. Only she and I could hear our conversation. But she did squash any chance of me seeing her as socially adept. There are about four other chick faux pas I’ve been privy to in the past couple of months I have to tell you about. But those all deserve their own blogs. I’ll tell you about them later.Saturday, June 27, 2009 (14:05:48)http://brainbucketmag.com/Blogs/display/mode=display/id=429.htmlI came across a story today on Salon.com about how more women are turning to sex industry during this slow economy. At first I read it with mixed emotions. On the one hand I felt a little sad for these women, while on the other I felt proud of the fact that they are doing what it takes to eat and provide for their families. Sex work, while the oldest profession in the world, damages most that do it on some level. The damage can be as severe as death or rape at the hands of some psycho, or it can be as mild as guilt and emotional trauma one feels for violating the sanctity of the act of sexual union itself. And then there are the few that can deal with it emotionally and be safe about their work. Wikipedia’s definition for sex worker is pretty broad and includes everything from sexual activity to webcam strippers, while Merriam-Webster defines it as “a person whose work involves sexually explicit behavior ; especially : prostitute.” For the purposes of this discussion I am going to go with Merriam-Webster’s definition. I personally am all for someone capitalizing on their God-given talents. If you’ve been blessed with beauty, use it! If you’ve been blessed with intelligence, use it. If you’ve been blessed with both, the world is your oyster. All of you high and mighty soap-box thumpers are going to pass judgment on me for my opinion the same way you do the people who work in the sex industry. To that I offer that we are all sex workers and clients. There is a reason it’s called the oldest profession in the world. Ladies, ever been on a date where a gentlemen treated you to a nice dinner and drinks and you slept with him? And what guy hasn’t dropped some cash on a gift for a girl in hopes that his gesture would ingratiate himself with the object of his desire? It happens in bars all across America. Women use the promise of sex to get drinks from men and men buy drinks for the promise of sex. Accepting the gift and/or meal and subsequently engaging in sexual activity makes you a sex worker just the same as buying the gift and/or meal and engaging in sexual activity makes you a client. The key here is to what level the transaction is understood prior to entering and how prolific you are in your trades. The more one is willing to trade on the wide open market, the more damaging it can be and the more it is outside the social norms. The workers and clients who can temper their trades are the ones that seem to adjust the best. That’s how we as a society can justify the aforementioned scenarios. The date/social scenarios I described earlier are socially acceptable. We justify them with sexual attraction and exclusivity. The degree of sexual attraction and exclusivity isn’t as important as that we can claim some. That’s how we compartmentalize. Some are good at it and some aren’t. I know a lot of people that obsess and engage in poor behavior when they are rejected after a sexual encounter. At the same time, I know people who are more casual about it and don’t let it affect them on a personal level. People that can compartmentalize and cope have better self-preservation mechanisms and are generally more socially intelligent people. I would also argue that they are more intelligent overall. Take the high class call girl for example. She may screen her clients based on several factors, such as wealth, social status, mental stability, hygiene, and a host of other factors she deems appropriate. While she may have had some trauma that has given her the ability to enter into sex for cash transactions, generally she is a businesswoman that is offering a certain set of goods for sale. These women are usually educated, intelligent, and have aspirations beyond being a sex worker. The work is a means to an end. I have respect for the stereotypical high class call girl. This woman respects herself. She understands the inherent dangers and pitfalls her work has and works to position herself with upper-middle to upper-class people. She may be a recreational drug user, but understands its place in her lifestyle and chose field. She has a solid head on her shoulders and is in no risk of being committed. On the opposite end of the spectrum is the street walker. These women have usually had some sort of trauma in their life that has allowed them to compartmentalize or they don’t compartmentalize and are just living out the meager existence their low self-esteem and/or drug habit has carved out for them. They don’t screen their clients and will perform any sexual act for a very low rate. They are generally not educated, have been in and out of the system, and don’t understand what it means to have aspirations beyond being a sex worker. The work is an end of the means. I have very little respect for the stereotypical street walker. If anything I have pity for them. They’ve been taught very little self-respect. They live a very dangerous lifestyle and associate with some of the lowest forms of human existence. They usually have drug problems and may even be mentally unstable. Of course both of these scenarios are stereotypes and opposite ends of the spectrum. There are infinite degrees of variation within this spectrum. Most sex workers, even porn talent, lean one way or the other. I just hope that these women entering the sex industry in these tough economic times lean more toward the high class call girl than the street walker.Wednesday, June 24, 2009 (20:42:00)http://brainbucketmag.com/Blogs/display/mode=display/id=428.htmlI think I’ve gotten myself in a bit of a pickle. I should’ve known better. I underestimated the power of the Panty Puller! The Panty Puller is a dumpcake. It’s a mighty fine one at that. I personally enjoy it. But when put into the wrong hands or used recklessly, it can wreak havoc. And I think that’s what’s happening right now. I don’t know if I wanna give out the recipe in its entirety, but I will give some basic info on the dessert. It starts with a base of chocolate cake with a hint of Kahlua soaked in. Then I layer some chocolate pudding with broken up Heath bar mixed in. Finally, I top it off some whipped topping. Repeat until the bowl is full and garnish with crushed Heath bar. Well, I guess that’s pretty much the recipe, huh? Anyway, it’s damn good! It’s light and creamy with a hint of crunch every now and then. But it’s also damn powerful stuff! I call it the Panty Puller for a reason. I’ve only made it four times since I moved from Southeastern Georgia. Two of the times were for two different girls, a couple of models I met through my freelance photography. The reactions I got are why I call it the Panty Puller. I was telling some of the guys I work with about this stuff one day. They challenged me to bring some in. I accepted and began preparations. The Monday before I was set to bring it in, these girls from another department come by from time to time to have some brownies that some of my coworkers wives send with them. They overheard me talking about this concoction and expressed interest in having some. I didn’t wanna be rude, so I told them they could have some when I brought it in. I also indicated that I didn’t have a name for it and would like their help naming it. That was actually a lie. I just needed a name that would be female friendly. You don’t wanna make this dessert for a new lady friend and tell her you call it the Panty Puller. So, I prepared the ingredients on Tuesday evening. This dessert takes two days to make. The first night, I make the chocolate pudding. I don’t use that instant crap. I make the real deal. I also bake the cake. I will admit that I don’t bake the cake from scratch. Final assembly was completed the next night. I made one large bowl and three separate smaller containers for my friends in the other department. Looking back, I think this is where I went awry. The dessert went over well. I knew it would. It took less than an hour for it to be completely devoured by the guys in my department. The girls savored it as well. They never really came up with a name as a group, although one did call it “Heaven in a Bowl”. It was a good time. The four of us sat around talking about college football. They were trying me. I kept running smack and they were trying to find ways to convert me to an OSU fan. I think they finally got the picture when I told them I was from Tennessee and that my roots would always influence my loyalty. I would never convert and they weren’t about to convince me otherwise. Shortly after that, I think it started. One of the three stooges (that’s what I call them now) started sending me emails. At first it was some light-hearted football smack. It quickly became annoying when I wouldn’t respond for a couple of hours and she would mention that I didn’t. I got an email one morning that read, “9 o’clock and no email from you yet ” That should’ve been my first hint. Later that afternoon, I asked for my containers back. The girls said they weren’t finished yet and that I could have them back the next day. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to get them back until Monday, since I left early on Friday for my 900 mile journey to Tennessee and back. So, Monday morning rolls around. I get an email that my containers are clean. She asked if I would like them returned to me or if I would like to get them from her. Since I had to go to a meeting in her area in a couple of hours, I told her I would get them from her. A coworker and I went to retrieve the containers after the meeting. She had told me that they would be returned full of food. I thought that was nice and was looking forward to sharing it with the guys in my office. Well, they were full of food, but it was more of a meal. She gave me ham and cheese biscuits, pasta salad made with OSU pasta, and a no-bake Oreo pie. She also gave me a UT mouse pad. O.k., now I was in trouble. The meal was questionable. I would’ve much rather been given something that was more in line with I gave her and the other two stooges. But she prepared a meal for me and had no intention on anyone else sharing in it. The mouse pad was over the top! Something has gone terribly wrong! Normally, I would welcome said advances. However, I don’t shit where I eat. It’s just asking for trouble. For those of you that don’t know what I mean by that analogy, I don’t date co-workers. There are too many fish in the sea for me to get into that kinda mess! Those situations never end well. I told this story to a friend last night and we laughed. It also got me thinking about the time I took the Panty Puller to a Christmas party when I worked at Boswell’s. This gave me some clarity and solidified the fact that the Panty Puller should be used with caution. There’s this girl that I used to work with at Boswell’s. She started out pretty cool. Since I was prior Navy, she felt like she could talk to me about her Marine boyfriend. I’d much rather talk about music, but I was really at work to earn a buck. I had an extra ticket to see Five Finger Death Punch at the Cannery Ballroom in Downtown Nashville. I knew she was into that kinda music, so I asked her to go. We made arrangements to meet there. Now, this was a kickass show! That had to have been one of the best pits I had ever been in. I had so much fun. After the show was over, I looked for my friend and couldn’t find her anywhere. We didn’t go there together, but I wanted to make sure she was safe. I texted her asking where she was and she said that she left shortly after I went into the pit. Now, that’s not much of a show buddy thing to do! The next day, I told her that I was planning on going to see Theory of a Deadman in a couple of weeks. I told her I wasn’t going to buy her a ticket, but asked if she wanted to go. I was accustomed to going to shows by myself, but would’ve liked a buddy in tow. Plus, hot chicks make great wingmen and she had some attractive attributes. “I can’t go out with people from work anymore,” she replied. Shortly after that she ate some of the Panty Puller and her weirdness flew off the chart! I can’t help but think that she was affected by it and the fact that I am just plain kickass. I mean seriously! She went off the deep end into fruitcake land. It was then that I began calling her Scoutmaster, a name that has stuck with her even after I left the state. I think she was being weird and a downright bitch to me at times to push me away. Poor girl, she didn’t have to do that. She was off limits. I don’t shit where I eat! I think I’ve learned a valuable lesson here. In the past, I would refrain from introducing a girl to the Panty Puller until I was sure that I wanted her around for a while and never in the first couple of dates/weeks. That’s a closer for sure! I think I need to keep it away from work as well.Tuesday, June 23, 2009 (21:35:37)http://brainbucketmag.com/Blogs/display/mode=display/id=427.htmlThe wasteful spending doesn’t stop with the bailout. Nope. Pork projects of yesteryear are alive and well, even in today’s depressed economic times. And they’re funding the stupidest studies one can imagine. There’s the $400,000 study being conducted in bars in Buenos Aires to find out why gay men engage in risky sexual behavior while drunk; a $2.6 million study dedicated to teaching prostitutes in China to drink less while having sex on the job; and a $178,000 study to better understand why drug-abusing prostitutes in Thailand are at greater risk for HIV infection. Since I am neither gay or a regular (or ever actually) China or Thailand prostitute customer, these studies don’t quite hit home like the $423,500 study of why men don't like to use condoms. This study funded by the National Institutes of Health and the other three mentioned here are huge wastes of our money. That’s right, your tax dollars are going to tell us why I don’t like to wear a condom. Seriously? Lemme save the Federal Government some money that could better be used on getting GM back on its feet or paying for BO’s date nights. We don’t like to wear condoms because they rob us of sensation, you retards! You wear gloves so that you don’t burn your hands or ruin your skin with dishwater. Well morons, the same phenomenon occurs when you wear a condom! It doesn’t feel as good as bareback, jackasses! Plus, they’re awkward and can really kill a hot moment. It’s like when you’re at a night club and a kick ass song comes on, but before you can dance you have to change your shoes. So, the DJ screeches the record to a stop and everyone waits for the guy that has to change his shoes. By the time the shoes are on half of the people don’t wanna dance anymore! Those kinda odd can stop a sexual moment dead in its tracks! And then there’s the touchy feely drawback. You don’t get as much emotional connection with a condom. Now for the occasional casual encounter, that may be fine. But condom use can make sex seem like a utility with a partner you like to have around more than a night or two. Now, I know what all of you are screaming at me right now through your monitor (like I can really hear you), “But Mike if you don’t wear a condom, you’ll expose yourself to STD’s and unwanted pregnancy. There’s like one thousand strains of Syphilis alone. And don’t forget about the HIV!” Yeah, yeah, yeah, blah, blah, blah! I know all of the risks, thank you very much. Hell, you can’t go through primetime TV anymore without a commercial for a genital herpes drug. Thank you by the way, Valtrex, for forcing me to watch in agony as my brother tried to dodge the “Daddy, what’s getinal herpeas?” question from my seven year old niece. But that’s what life is, a series of risks. I guess the biker in me looks at it like that. And the choices you make are a direct reflection of the amount of risk you are willing to take to reap a potential reward. I am referring to personal choices and responsibility. I’m not advocating wanton promiscuous sex with no sort of protection from the elements. Nor am I saying that we should all use condoms and the pill while simultaneously practicing coitus interruptus. What I am saying is that we should address the level of risk we are willing to take with our partners and make decisions based on the potential rewards. I learned that in high school with no NIH study required. Besides, have any of you parents seen MTV lately? That study is a waste! Instead, condom manufacturers should fund the study to address the three aforementioned reasons I offered here!Monday, June 22, 2009 (22:56:15)http://brainbucketmag.com/Blogs/display/mode=display/id=426.htmlI was on the phone with a friend of mine last week. Actually, it was Sexy Sara. We spent some time talking about Mr Nice Guy. While I would love to blog about that more, I really need to blog about riding. And what better to write about than my 900 mile journey this past weekend to the hills of Tennessee? Initially, I had planned on trailering down. I know, you guys are cringing. Believe me when I say that I’d really rather not. I’m usually not able to leave until 4:30 and riding down would make that even later. I really don’t like the prospect of arriving at BikerDick’s house on a Friday night at 10pm. Although after this weekend, the possibility doesn’t seem so uninviting. So, I set out of Southeastern Ohio at around 2 pm. I didn’t have anything to eat and made plans with my best friend, Brian, to grab a bite on my way through Cincy at Skyline Chili. Now, if you’ve never had Skyline Chili, you’re missing out. It’s a sweet chili served over spaghetti noodles. A novice Skyliner might even call it spaghetti sauce. Make no mistake, it is not spaghetti sauce. If you don’t want to make the trip to the Cincy area to get some, you can buy it canned up at Kroger stores. Let me warn you, though it’s expensive but well worth it. You might get hooked. After some good conversation about the new power plant under development in Ohio and some killer cuisine, I decided to head out to Nashville. I still had a few hours ahead of me and wanted to make it there before 9. Hopefully, I would miss the rush hour in Louisville and have an easy ride. After a quick stop to fuel up, I made my way down 471. Ahh, it was nice. Yeah the temps were up there, but I was clipping along at 75-85 and was as cool as a cucumber. Yeah, I was cool until traffic came to a screeching halt about five miles down the road! The comfort I felt from the breeze was quickly replaced my weltering heat coming up from the blacktop. Damn, it was hot. I think my thermometer topped out at 104! And the traffic was stop and go, though mostly stop! My damn high compression motor started to overheat. Then when I least expected it, “clunk!” The old girl gave out. Now, this couldn’t have come at a more inopportune time. I was in the middle of five lanes of traffic! It was hot and I really didn’t want to push the old girl over to the shoulder. I hurriedly began the procedure to restart her. Now, my old police cruiser is like a good woman. When you get her going, she’ll give you more than you can handle. Getting her going can be a little tricky. There’s the foreplay of flippin’ switches. Just like a good woman, she’s unique; you gotta know what switches to flip and in what order. And then you press the starter button, hoping you did it all right and she lights up for you. But when she does, that hard work pays off! I started flippin’ switches. I hit the kill switch, took the ignition to off, and reached down to push in the compression releases. I should’ve taken it a little slower, ‘cause like a good woman, she scolded me for moving too fast. The motor on this old police bike isn’t stock. I put a 103” Screamin’ Eagle racing motor in her last year. The compression ratio on this motor is 10.5:1. Very few reasonably priced starters will fire that motor without some way to vent the compression on the first stroke. So when I had it built, I had compression releases installed. They’re these little buttons on the left side of the cylinder heads. You push ‘em in and when the bike starts up they vent until the first couple of strokes are complete. Kinda makes this really cool sound, just like when a good woman starts up! Only thing is that these compression releases are right next to the head bolts. They do not move. The compression releases don’t get so hot you can’t touch them, but the head bolts do. I got the rear release just fine, but when I went to the front, I pressed the head bolt first. I immediately screamed right there on the freeway! If you’ve ever put your finger on a piece of metal that’s around 600 degrees Fahrenheit, then you know the anguish I experienced. If you haven’t, I don’t recommend you try. It’s not very fun. It’s now three days later and I can still make out the impression of the number stamp on the top of my head bolts that has been burned into my left index finger. After she scolded me, start fired right up. I paid for my indiscretion though. I’m sure I looked the part of big bad biker sucking on my index finger for the next 30 minutes or so! I guess that's what I get for making fun of a friend of mine that burnt herself on my old police bike a couple of weeks ago. I made it the rest of the way there without incident. Visited with BikerDick, his wife, and one of his gorgeous little girls before taking a shower and going to bed. And no you pervs, I didn’t score with said little girl! She’s 2 and will be three in a couple of months! I like ‘em young, but I’m no pedophile! We woke the next morning and had some breakfast before heading out on our two-wheeled adventures. We were going to stop by an antique car show in Smyrna and then head down to Sloan’s in Murfreesboro for an antique bike show. Seeing those old cars was pretty damn awesome! There was this one couple that did two gorgeous restorations. One of the cars had a tree growing inside of it when then bought it. After the two shows, we made our way to Lynchburg, TN, home of the best whiskey in the world, Jack Daniel’s Old No. 7 Brand, for the Annual Lynchburg Motorcycle Days. It was a good time and reminded me of what an old fashioned carnival musta been like. We had some lemonade, and I picked up a new hat and some gifts for friends. Then we headed up to Shelbyville for a Father’s Day cookout at the Oldman’s. We made our way back to BikerDick’s place at around 7. I had some tentative plans to meet some friends in Downtown Nashville around 9. I definitely needed a shower! After some calls, I decided to go to a party in West Nashville instead. A friend of mine from my Boswell days was having a small soiree at his house and a lot of my buddies from the shop were there. I hung out drinking beer and catching up ‘till about 1:00 when I realized that I still had another 380 miles ahead of me after I’d been riding for the past two days and I still have to be functional at 6 am Monday morning. I woke up on Sunday at around 7:30. BikerDick’s oldest daughter, 7, camped out at the zoo with her Grandma the night before. We went to pick them up and had a light brunch. I hit the road around 2 pm. The ride home was uneventful. I did hit some traffic just south of Louisville that set me back about an hour when the freeway went to one lane. I also got my first bit of the wet stuff just south of Cincy. Only thing is that I remember a lot of people honking their horns at me in the way back. Sure there’s the occasional passerby that waves or flasher girl, but these people were trying to communicate with me. I really noticed it when the 18 wheeler I passed honked his loud as a train horn. I pulled off the road to a gas station to make sure that nothing was falling off the old girl, when I noticed my reflection in the mirror and remembered what shirt I was wearing. If you were there, you would’ve seen the light go off above my head! I had on my favorite Nonpoint t-shirt from their Vengeance tour. There’s a quote from one of the songs printed on the back in very large white lettering on the black shirt that reads, “Sick of the Bullshit!”Monday, June 22, 2009 (22:50:00)http://brainbucketmag.com/Blogs/display/mode=display/id=425.htmlI can’t believe some of the stuff I come across. I thought that I was amply frightened by the socialist direction that we were headed economically. But when I saw that the Pentagon classified protesting as low-level terrorism, I cowered. I mean seriously, is it going to happen this soon? Is it going to be this fast? And are we going to continue to turn a blind eye. I don’t know what to say. I feel much the same way I did when the DHS said that War Veterans were ripe for recruitment by domestic terrorist groups. I’m dumbfounded. Our elected officials are getting drunk with power and I’m not intoxicated by it. And then there’s a Senator that chides a Brigadier General for calling her ma’am. I’m sure there are more examples of it, but instead of pointing them out, I’d like to make a call to action. We need to limit the power of our government. We’ve been needing to for a long time, but now more than ever we need to act! Thomas Jefferson said, “Experience hath shown, that even under the best forms of government those entrusted with power have, in time, and by slow operations, perverted it into tyranny.”Friday, June 19, 2009 (03:56:53)http://brainbucketmag.com/Blogs/display/mode=display/id=424.htmlYes, that’s right. Tomorrow, Governor Ted Strickland will announce plans to turn part of the Department of Energy Reservation in Pike County into a nuclear power plant site. USEC, Inc, Ureva, and Duke Energy will team up to build the plant. Duke Energy will own and operate the plant providing power to people as far away as Cincinnati. Here’s a collection of articles about the plant:www.dispatch.com/live/...ml?sid=101www.daytondailynews.co...html?imw=Ynews.cincinnati.com/ar...lear+plantI can hear you guys asking now, “Mike why do we care about this? Isn’t this a motorcycle magazine?” Yes, it is. However, There are several reasons why this is of interest to us:this plant will literally be in my backyardnuclear power burns less greenhouse gasesit’s safer and exposes less of the general public to radiation than coal burning plantsAs motorcyclists we need to champion the eco-friendly. Doing so only makes our way life harder to eradicate. Motorcycles are eco-friendly and getting rid of them, or making it less desirable to ride them with helmet mandates only destroys the environment. See my logic. It’s also important because I said so! If you don’t like it then quit reading. If however, you do read, you may find some stuff pretty interesting and who knows, you might even learn a thing or two. This plant will literally be in my backyard. I have no problem with it. Actually, I encourage it. Initially, this plant will bring 4,000 initial construction jobs and hundreds of high paying plant operator/support jobs to a severely depressed area. According to the Census Bureau, the median household income is just barely over ½ the national average and nearly 2.5 times the national average of families is below the poverty level. Your average entry level operator/technician earns 20% more than the national household median income. It doesn’t take someone with a degree in math to add this up. This will be good for the local economy short and long term. I’m not holding my breathe, but we might actually get a Target in the Scioto Valley! One can only hope. Say you want to, but I love Target. I don’t care if you big bad biker boys make fun of me or not. Yes Target may cost more, but you get a better overall shopping experience than say Wally World. Hmm, there may be another blog topic altogether! “But Mike, aren’t you concerned with safety and greenhouse gases and radiation and terrorist attacks and (insert any one of the fear-mongering propaganda items the anti-nuke zealots are pushing on you)?” No, I am not. This is really simple folks. Nuclear Power plants are safer, emit fewer greenhouse gases and radiation, and are more cost effective than coal plants. Nuclear produces fewer greenhouse gases than coal. As a matter of fact nuclear power is classified as an emission-free power source. In 2008 nuclear accounted for 72% of the total US emission-free power production. I knew that nuclear power produced fewer greenhouse gas emissions; however the radiation emission issue is something new to me. It had never occurred to me that coal plants could be emitting more radiation than a nuclear plant until a colleague mentioned it in passing. Of course, I acted like I knew exactly what he was talking about. After the conversation, I immediately went to the interweb and did some research. What I found in a research paper by Alex Gabbard for the Oak Ridge National Laboratory published in 1993, titled Coal Combustion: Nuclear Resource or Danger is astounding. Coal is an ore. As with most ores, coal contains trace amounts of uranium and thorium. One the surface this isn’t bad. But when you burn the amounts of coal require to fire a 1000 MW coal powerplant, you are releasing up to 5.2 tons/year of uranium (containing 74 pounds (34 kg) of uranium-235) and 12.8 tons/year of thorium. This is easily 100 times more than a comparable nuclear power plant and the release is more widespread as the ash falls to the ground over a large area. Nuclear power is cheaper. Initial construction of a nuclear power plant is astronomical compared to a coal plant, but these costs are quickly absorbed and over the life of a plant make nuclear power more cost effective to produce. A study by the Nuclear Energy Institute found that from 1995 to 2008 total electricity production costs were on average $0.20/kWh cheaper than coal and almost a $1/kWh in 2008. Since 2000, the cost of nuclear energy has gone down $0.30/kWh. The terrorist attack issue is simple as well. The likelihood that an attack on a nuclear power plant will generate any real devastation is extremely low as it is not explosive. Terrorists will get much more bang for their buck by attacking a power plant that utilizes combustible materials fire as a means for generating heat for the steam generators. Fuel in power plants is fissile (meaning you will get a nuclear reaction) but not so fissile that we can’t control it. U-235 is the isotope of concern and is what is used in your run of the mill pressurized water reactor. It is enriched to a maximum of 10% in the United States. The U-235 in atomic warheads and bombs is enriched to 90%+. The enrichment leve just isn’t there. Also, Plutonium is the fuel of choice for weapons since the Cold War and not the fuel of choice for reactor power plants. So, I say bring it! Nuclear power is as American as Harley-Davidson, Mom, and apple pie! This country needs nuclear power!Thursday, June 18, 2009 (03:52:00)http://brainbucketmag.com/Blogs/display/mode=display/id=423.htmlI was back in Cincinnati this weekend to hang with Brian. He had a show with The E Funk Band again at some Catholic festival. I think it was St Geriatric’s or something like that. I can’t remember. I know it started with a ‘G’ though. I caged it out there ‘cause the rain was a coming and I didn’t feel like dealing with it. I took the cage out there with Brian’s housemate. I figured WTF. I’ll get some food and enjoy some music and then Brian and I can hang out afterwards back in Fort Thomas. I was a little hesitant at first. I’m agnostic. I really didn’t want to go somewhere and try to enjoy myself while people are preaching at me. I figured it was worth a risk though. Brian’s housemate quelled my concerns telling me about a Catholic festival that takes place on the corner of their street every year. She also told me that I could probably expect, drinking, gambling, and cussing at St Geriatric’s. WHAT! WHAT! WHAAAAT??? Now, I’m excited! I get to drink beer, cuss, and people will be gambling? I was really starting to like this idea. We got there and this place was like a carnival. It was awesome. The food was great. The beer was cold. And the music was kickin’ The E Funk Band always rocks! They did this Blues Brothers gambit where Leroy and a guest dressed up in the classic black suits and sunglasses. The guy playing Elwood was awesome! He danced around and really engaged the crowd. Leroy dressed up as Joliet and as was well until he decided to run and jump on me. I thought I was gonna eat pavement right there! It was good, though. I was glad to help them make a fun show. We danced, drank, and partied the night away with those Catholics. And they were into it, all hootin’ and hollerin’. I may just convert! Gonna be kinda hard to get by as a Catholic with no real belief in any one deity, though. Plus, they also frown on contraception. Since I don’t want any chillins just yet, I think I’ll stay agnostic. I met Brian back at his house and we went to one of our favorite little neighborhood bar, The Midway. While we were there, he texted our friend from the Reds game last week. She dropped by with her sister, who we’ll call Sexy Sara. I need to give her a name because she and I had a discussion that I really wanted to talk about. She said so much stuff about what she wants out of a guy and dispelled many of the current dating/relationship myths. It was no big revelation for me but was nice to finally hear a girl voice it. You see, Sexy Sara is starting to date a new guy. We’ll call him Mr. Nice Guy. They were due to have a date the following night and she was texting him back and forth for a while. I asked if this was the guy she was talking about last week. And it was. She lamented on how she had a date with him the next night, but opportunities to do stuff that would be much more fun kept popping up. “Everybody wants me to come hang out and I have a boring date!” she said. The key word here is boring. You see Mr. Nice Guy says all of the right things. Sexy Sara said that he is attentive to little details and just “oh so sweet!” But he’s boring. They don’t do anything exciting and she doesn’t laugh around him. She feels good about how he treats her, but he doesn’t excite her. And no you dirty old bastards, I’m not talking about sexually! We never discussed that. But, I imagine that he’s boring in the bedroom too. All of the girls I know say the two usually go hand in hand, and I believe it. “Honey, you don’t need to settle,” I said. “If the guys not flipping all of your switches, then help him find them. If he still doesn’t do it for you, move on. You’re young, fun, and cute. “Never, ever, ever, settle! Ever!” I exclaimed. I really wish that I could have five minutes alone with this guy. No, not so I could kick his ass like Phil Anselmo wanted to do when he wrote the famous lyrics for Five Minutes Alone, but so I could tell him that he was about to lose a cool girl ‘cause he was boring. Guys, here it is straight from the horses mouth. Girls want to laugh and be excited. The epitome of that is the ‘Most Interesting Man in the World’ you see in the Dos Equis commercials recently. The commercials are funny and the guy really seems like he’s a great hang. I am by no way suggesting that you be a dick to women. But why do you think that women choose those assholes over the nice guy? He flips their exciting and funny switches. If you can do that and be the nice guy, then you’re golden. And here’s the thing. It’s easy to be funny and exciting. Tell stories about stupid things you’ve done. Take silly risks. Jump in a closed pool with all of your clothes on, after making sure there’s water in it of course. Run a Chinese fire drill at a stop light in downtown traffic. Dance with her! Women love it! We may not like it so much and you will look stupid, but do it! I remember the time, I was hanging out at a bar in Charleston. It was hot in there and I wanted some air. I didn’t want to go back out the front door, though. I thought on what to do and saw a sign that said ‘Rooftop Access’ hanging on a door. “That’s the place for me!” I thought. So, up I went. Oh man it was so beautiful up there! The wind was cooling me down. The stars and moon were just breathtaking. Ah, but my friends were back in the bar and I had my eye on a certain cutie. When I tried to go back downstairs, I discovered that the door locked behind me. Now, I was stuck on the roof. What to do, what to do? I could call my buddy to come get me. But this was back when I didn’t have a cell phone. Yeah that’s right! I didn’t have a cell phone. I was a broke 22 year old sailor asshole! Get over it! So, instead of yelling over the side in hopes that the doorman would send some one up to get me and not kick me out, I decided to go down the fire escape. I couldn’t just walk back in the front door. What if the bouncer realized I didn’t walk out and put two and tow together and kicked me out. Nope, I had to go in through the kitchen like I owned the place. Imagine my friends’ and the cutie’s surprise when I walked out of the kitchen brushing myself off and told that story! Not only was I a nice guy, but I was exciting! The next time I went up to the roof, I took cutie and propped the door open. Now, if you don’t think that was fun, you ain’t livin’! BTW, since I mentioned Five Minutes Alone, I thought I would share the video. Enjoy!Monday, June 15, 2009 (21:07:19)