Small World: The Way We Were

Who among us has not occasionally longed to travel back in time?

For example, what if you could ride a dinosaur? Or witness the signing of the Declaration of Independence? Or ride a dinosaur through the signing of the Declaration of Independence and upload video of your stunt to YouTube, which you now own, because you have a time machine, and you can do anything you want and the world is now a twisted product of your perverse whims, and the ensuing paradoxes are tearing the very fabric of the universe asunder? Or maybe this has already happened and what we perceive as "reality" is merely the construct of someone who has had or will have or will have had had a time machine and used it to meddle with history, and because of this we have no control whatsoever over our own destiny and merely dwell in a self-perpetuating perdition of temporal contradictions?

Fine, so maybe time travel isn't all that great. Still, at least you can safely experience what it would be like to travel way back to the year Two Thousand And Aught Seven, Anno Domini, thanks to a Canadian periodical called "The Glo Bean D Mail," which contains the following article forwarded to me by a reader:

Ah yes, 2007. People "boogied" to the sounds of Incubus and The Red Hot Chili Peppers. Audiences thrilled to movies like "Wild Hogs" and "Norbit." And newspapers printed articles about "fixies" which contained passages like this:

Popularized by bike couriers as a fast, simple way to charge around town, the fixie has become the ride of choice for young downtown cyclists – a personal statement and urban art form in one.

Amazingly though, the above words were not published in 2007. They were actually published yesterday(!), in the aforelinked "Glo Bean D Mail" article. So, too, were these:

Some come with stubby, shortened handlebars to make it easier to squeeze between cars. Some have swooping ram’s-horn bars of gleaming chrome, stripped of all handlebar tape. Others have wheel rims made of bright anodized aluminum in pink or gold. Still others have snappy whitewall tires. The latest thing is to have a coloured bicycle chain to match the bike’s colour scheme. A leather seat by Brooks, the storied English saddle maker, often tops things off.

After reading this, I have three questions for the writer, none of which has anything to do with "fixies:"

1) What's it like to be cryogenically frozen for four years and did it hurt when they thawed you out? (Okay, that's technically two questions, but whatever.)

2) Are you bummed you didn't get to see "Avatar" in the theater?

3) Michael Jackson died. How crazy is that?!?

Of course, those of us who have actually had to live through the past four years know how it all went down: first came the fixie fad; then the fixie scene closed; then all the fixie scenesters discovered bikes with gears and reinvented themselves as insufferable pedants. It was, in a word, horrible. But I guess it all seems perfectly delightful when you missed the whole thing because you're the Rip Van Winkle of the "bike culture:"

Still, the rise of the fixie is a healthy sign of a maturing bike culture in the city. Like high-school kids, urban cyclists are dividing into tribes. The nerds are the guys with panniers and reflecting vests; the jocks are the road-bike riders in spandex; the artsies ride vintage women’s bikes with flowers in the basket; the fixie riders, of course, are the cool kids.

Wrong. Wrong! They're all nerds. Have you really not figured that out yet? Or do you still have freezerburn on your brain?

Meanwhile, everybody knows that fixies are totally "out," and interesting hats are totally "in:"

On the train from Oyster Bay - w4m - 29 (City-bound on LIRR)
Date: 2011-07-24, 11:49PM EDT
Reply to:

You boarded the LIRR at Oyster Bay on Sunday evening with your bicycle, an interesting hat, and a copy of the Economist. I was the girl with a gray tank top and dirty blonde wavy hair, jabbering with my Irish friend, but too tongue-tied to talk to you. Did your bike survive the fall?

I've ridden the Long Island Railroad countless times and I've never seen anybody even remotely that pretentious. It must be a North Shore thing. A bicycle? Sure. An interesting hat? Possibly. A copy of the Economist? Perhaps. But all three at once? That's almost as impressive as a guy with a Swedish military bike and a weary Portuguese friend! But the big question is:

So how interesting was the hat?

I mean, was it really interesting, or just mildly interesting? For example, there was a time back in 2009 when I thought the "tricorne" was going to make a comeback, since I saw someone wearing one on the street:

So was the hat that interesting, or was it just "beer hat" interesting? Actually, maybe that's the guy she saw on the train. If so, I'm glad to have helped.

Speaking of pretension, I was reading the July 25th issue of The New Yorker recently and there was an article about "tiny houses:"


Evidently, there is a growing subculture of people who are into tiny houses, and it appears to be the next evolutionary phase of minimalism:

The occupants of tiny houses tend to be committed, and slightly self-regarding, citizens, who cook on little stoves and have refrigerators like wall safes. They shed years of possessions and keepsakes to get by with two shirts and two pairs of pants and two mugs and two forks, in order to occupy what amounts to a monk's cell, for the sake of simplicity, frugality, or upright environmental living. They often embody the zeal of religious converts.

And because shacks are too "Hatfields and McCoys" for minimalists, and cottages are too "Grimm's Fairy Tales," they've invented a new form of pretentious dwelling that splits the difference:

They aren't toys or playhouses or aesthetic gestures--a copy of Monticello as a sandbox in a field in East Hampton, say--and they aren't shacks or cottages, either. Shacks don't have kitchens and bathrooms, and a cottage is larger than a tiny house.

In other words, a tiny house is basically an artisanal mobile home, and people pay up to $54,000 for them:

The tiniest house that Tumbleweed Tiny House Company sells is the XS-House, which is sixty-five square feet, and costs sixteen thousand dollars to build yourself, or thirty-nine thousand dollars if Tumbleweed or someone else builds it for you. Tumbleweed's most expensive house, the Fencl, is a hundred and thirty square feet; it costs twenty-three thousand dollars to build yourself and fifty-four thousand dollars to have built.

Of course, the tiny house movement is a reaction to the McMansions and jumbo mortgages and bursting bubbles and crushing financial burdens that characterize life in modern-day America:

According to Greg johnson, the publisher of a tiny-house Web site called ResourcesForLife.com, to inhabit a tiny house "you have to remodel your sense of what success is and how important it is to you to convey to the outside world 'Hey, I have a big house and big car and I'm successful.' If you have a piece of inner tranquillity, you don't have to prove anything to anybody."

I can certainly understand that people want to liberate themselves from excess and live more modestly, manageably, and efficiently. To that end, I've come up with a revolutionary idea. Imagine if, instead of living in garden sheds, people lived in sort of "tiny house collectives"--large structures containing multiple tiny houses within their walls. Not only would such structures be more efficient than single-family dwellings, but they would also foster a sense of community and even allow for cooperative ownership arrangements. We could call these tiny houses "apartments," and we could call the tiny house collectives "apartment buildings."

Now, imagine multiple "apartment buildings" in close proximity to each other, and the dynamic communities that would result--hundreds, thousands, or even millions of people living in tiny houses and sharing ideas and experiences and creating economies and forming governments. I haven't come up with a catchy name for these communities yet, but I'm thinking either "cities," or else "people nuggets." Then, if for some reason you decide you actually need or want more living space than the people nugget contains, you can just leave it and move into a normal fucking house.

Unfortunately though, tiny house minimalists can't seem wrap their minds around the concept of living in a place that suits their needs. Instead, it makes much more sense to them to live in a miniature version of the McMansion that offends them so much, possibly with one of these on their microscopic front porch:

(America 2.0: Tiny Houses and Tiny SUVs)

In other words, the minimalist/tiny house ideal seems to be to return to the way life was back in the Middle Ages by transforming America into a land of fiefdoms dotted with designer hovels in which the inhabitants have no equity.

Of course, whatever sort of dwelling you inhabit, you should make sure you lay your head on a cycling-specific pillow, as forwarded to me by a reader:

I predict pillows for cyclists will reach prices of up to $5,000 in the next few years, after which urban cyclists will reject pillows and begin sleeping without any sort of head support at all and we'll start seeing articles about a new "fixed-head sleeping movement," and about how some of these crazy urban sleepers are even running their beds blanketless.

Just make sure you don't sleep without your helmet.

10 Items or Less: The Avocado of Death

In today's modern world of today, there are innumerable evils facing our modern society. Nukelear meltdowns, international financiers who grope hotel staff, and a dependence on foreign desserts are just a few of these insidious threats to our very existence. However, when it comes to negative influences, there is one that looms larger than all others:

Minimalism.

Sure, you might think that a movement consisting bunch of rich, iPad-wielding couch surfers with a penchant for borrowing stuff would be relatively benign. Think again--unless you're a minimalist, of course. Minimalists only think once, if at all. They like to keep their heads as empty as their apartments.

The truth is, minimalism is a philosophy of denial, and in this sense it's the Creationism of lifestyles. Creationists deny the mountains of tangible evolutionary evidence we walk on, dig in, and burn in our gas tanks every day in favor of a story they prefer to believe. Similarly, minimalists deny the principles of simple mathematics in favor of a subjective form of accounting that would amaze even a Goldman Sachs executive.

Consider that "15 things" guy:

He arrived at his number by arbitrarily omitting stuff (like his toiletry kit), as well as by bundling other stuff together (like his electronics and various chargers) and counting them as one thing. It's that last form of fictional counting--bundling stuff together--that's the most insidious. For example, bundling a bunch of subprime mortgages together and selling them was what caused the financial crisis. Even worse, bundling items together is wreaking havoc at our supermarket checkout counters, as I learned this past weekend:

The above was the scene I encountered in a Brooklyn supermarket at the so-called "10 items or less" register. As you can see, there are ten items of fruit on the conveyor belt alone--and that's not counting what the cashier has already bagged!

At first I puzzled over how someone could commit a civil violation so egregious, but then I realized that this twisted minimalist counting style is now trickling down to the rest of society, and that the woman purchasing all this stuff has probably deluded herself into thinking that all those avocados are one item. (In fairness to her, the juice wasn't hers--it belonged to the gentleman with the giant fanny pack waiting behind her.)

A mortgage crisis is one thing, but glutted supermarket checkout lines are something else altogether, and the consequences of the latter are potentially far worse. Not only does it cause delay, but allowing people to purchase multiple avocados via express lane while simultaneously inconveniencing purchasers of other items could lead to an "avocado bubble" that could burst with tragic consequences--and I don't want to be around when the guacamole hits the fan.

In any case, I've never shied away from social protest, and you can be sure I did my part by sighing impatiently in a barely audible fashion.

Speaking of counting stuff, Transportation Nation is attempting to quantify the New York City bicycle crackdown, and to this end they're creating a bike ticket map to show which neighborhoods in have been most cracked down-upon. Here's how the map looks so far:

(Each red mark represents an extremely indignant white person.)

As you can see, ticketing seems to be heaviest in parts of the city inhabited by the sorts of whiny people whose biggest problem in life is having to wait behind other people buying too many avocados in supermarkets. Non-coincidentally, these are also exactly the sorts of people who send out press releases to local news websites when they get tickets for running red lights on their Dutch bikes, and who ultimately report this information to crowdsourcing projects run by smug transportation websites. The result of this project is what may be the most obvious map ever created, though I am admittedly intrigued by the outliers, such as this one:

I can only assume this represents a roadie on his way to or from the evening races at Floyd Bennett Field (the big beige blob in the middle of the image), and I must say that surviving the wild ride down Flatbush Avenue only to get a ticket just as you've reached the safety of the Gateway National Recreation Area is like winning the World Rib Eating Championship and then choking to death on a maraschino cherry as you enjoy a celebratory cocktail.

Meanwhile, drivers are constantly finding bold new ways to obstruct bike lanes. For awhile, it looked like the protected ones were posing a bit of a challenge, but I'm pleased to report that one motor vehicle owner has finally cracked the problem of how to block them by simply placing his car diagonally across the controversial Prospect Park West bike lane:

I'm not sure what they were actually doing, but they are taking rope out of the trunk so it's possible that they were tying the car back together. The blanket would also indicate they needed to do some work on the underside of the vehicle:

Perhaps by parking the car partially on the curb they afforded themselves easier access:

As for why they wouldn't simply work on the car in the empty parking space right next to them, my best guess is that the green surface offers better contrast for finding those pesky nuts and bolts that are so easy to lose while performing repairs.

Really, the only thing I'm sure of is there's not a cop in New York City who would even think of giving them a ticket, and I also wouldn't be surprised if the so-called "Neighbors for Better Bike Lanes" emerged from their brownstones and served them lunch.

Finally, as I mentioned last week, I am now resolved to bring the "There Will Be Action Wipes" contest to a conclusion:

To this end, I have chosen five finalists, and I'm not exaggerating when I say it was by far the hardest thing I've ever done. (Harder even than having to wait multiple minutes behind a woman buying too many avocados.) The most difficult part was having to exclude the submissions that were brilliant yet not in keeping with the goal of the contest, which was to create an international symbol for cycling. Therefore, as much as I loved this one:


And this one:

(Erik K)

And this one:

They were a bit too detailed for simple signage. (Sure, the submission above is a sign, but it doesn't work for, say, an airport terminal, or a dedicated cyclist restroom were such a thing to come into existence.) The same thing goes for this one:


I also was forced to exclude symbols that were signworthy but did not include the time-traveling t-shirt-wearing retro-Fred from the planet Tridork:


Or that took excessive liberties with his bicycle:
Again, I can't say emphatically enough that it pained me deeply to exclude all the submissions above, as well as many other exquisite renderings I also received. So, finally, I've narrowed the submissions down to these five (5) finalists, in no particular order:

I have my favorite, but I'm not saying which. In the coming days I'll most likely put these to a vote, but in the meantime I invite you to reflect upon them and consider which you'd most like to represent you in a municipal setting.

Paring Down and Pairing Up: It's Not the Size of Your Load, It's How You Portage It

In today's logo-happy, brand-worshipping, status-mongering world, it can be increasingly difficult to distinguish yourself as a successful person. Sure, it may feel good to deck your bike out with Dura Ace, but what happens when someone rolls up with electronic Dura Ace? That first class airplane seat may feel comfy, but it's a bird dropping-covered park bench compared to the luxury of a Gulfstream cabin. And what about that sweet Bentley you're parking in the bike lane? Enjoy it while you can, for your feelings of superiority will suddenly become pangs of inferiority when you're passed by a Bentley covered in "vintage" $10,000 bills and powered by an engine that runs on polar bear blood, baby's tears, and Dom Perignon champagne.

Clearly, material status is an arms race you can't win. So what do you do? Well, wealthy American douchebags are increasingly figuring out that the answer is to "flip the script" and try to have less crap than everyone else instead. After all, if you have enough money you don't really need anything, since luxury and fulfillment is always just a credit card swipe away. This new form of 21st century reverse opulence is called "minimalism," and it seems hardly a day goes by without the media fawning over some quazi-Zen "bizarro" P-Diddy. The latest one is some "entrepreneur" named Andrew Hyde, whose clame to faim is that he only owns 15 things:

Unless you're totally "Wednesday weeded" out, you probably noticed that he's easily got more than 15 things with him in the photo:

And that's not even counting the additional crap he's wearing on his actual body.

Giving him the benefit of the doubt, I listened to as much of the ABC News Radio interview with him that I could stomach, and I learned that like most minimalists he has something of a creative bent when it comes to counting stuff. For example, he counts his toiletry kit as one thing, regardless of how much stuff is actually in it. By the way, here's a picture of his toiletry kit:

It contains 1,500lbs of dental floss, a full living room set, and a Mini Cooper.

Of course, this is America (Canada's overstuffed toiletry kit), and if wealthy people want to douchefy couch-surfing in the same way they've douchefied fixies and axes and anything else with a veneer of "authenticity" then that's their Lob-given right. Still, I've been watching a lot of "Sesame Street" lately, and I think I've got a pretty good handle on this whole counting thing. If Big Bird is learning how to count with apples, and he has six of them, he just admits he has six apples. He doesn't try to rationalize having too many apples by saying, "Well, I always keep my apples in an artisanal canvas fruit sack, so I really just count all my apples as one thing." If Big Bird were to pull a stunt like that I'd full expect Cookie Monster to kick him square in the "pants yabbies." Someone should really hand this Andrew Hyde guy a sippy-cup and sit his ass down in front of a TV for a few hours so he can get reacquainted with simple arithmetic. Come back to me when you're wearing a burlap sack and you've got nothing but a begging bowl and maybe then I'll be impressed.

Still, we could all do with less crap, so in the spirit of minimalism I've officially reduced my total number of possessions to zero things. This was easier than it sounds. All I did was form a corporation called the BSNYC/RTMS Holding Company, transfer all my assets and possessions to that company, and assign ownership of that company to my helper monkey, Vito. Then, I simply leased all my stuff back from him at a rate of one cent per annum. Not only do I get to say I don't own anything, but my lifestyle also hasn't changed at all. Plus, the best part is that Vito assumes all my tax liability.

Speaking of acquiring possessions, I recently received a press release for a bold and exciting new shoe:

A cross over between a sneaker and a boat shoe, the Veja Mediterranée style features an organic cotton canvas and a wild Amazonian rubber vulcanised sole.

I've been looking for a new "fixie"-riding shoe and a "collabo" between a sneaker and a boat shoe sounds like just the thing I need. I figure a shoe designed to keep me planted to the deck during a squall should me more than sufficient to help me maintain traction during my elephant trunk skidz. The fact that it also has a "wild Amazonian rubber vulcanised sole" and a brand name that looks like it could be pronounced "veejay" is just a bonus, and I'm sure my Mediterranean Vajayjays will look great with my Levi's cycling clothes:

You've doubtless heard by now that Levi's has been working on a cycling-specific Canadian tuxedo, and a reader was kind enough to forward me this Coolhunting post--which, as he points out, is most noteworthy in that they clearly couldn't figure out the integrated u-lock holder:

In any case, it was only a matter of time before Levi's realized that people are so determined to ride racing bicycles slowly that they'd prefer to buy specially-cut street clothes rather than just simply ride more comfortable city bikes, and that people like this need more wardrobe options:

(Serotta owner commuting to dental school.)

Either that, or they've not only figured it out but have since bought Dutch bikes and become so smug about it that they need to form clubs, as in this Craigslist post forwarded by another reader:


Calling all Batavus riders! (have Dutch bike, will travel....)
Date: 2011-05-01, 8:23AM EDT
Reply to: [Deleted]

Calling all Batavus riders! (have Dutch bike, will travel....)

Do you feel special as you pass other cyclists, perched extra-high and confident in the feeling that the stability and presence of your Dutch beauty provides a certain security -- from potential vehicle side-swipes and other cyclists on regular, mundane bikes -- that is only afforded us Batavus riders? Of course you do - and such elitism deserves celebration!

Which is why 'Batavus Uber Alles Toronto' wants you! BUAT needs you!

Check us out on Facebook:

Hope to see you soon!


If this is a Dutch bike club I'm not sure why its name is in German, but then again I'm not Canadian and as such I have a hard time comprehending subtlety and nuance.

Meanwhile, there's nothing subtle about riding the Five Boro Bike Tour on a bicycle without a saddle or seatpost, as photographed by yet another reader:

I'm not sure what kind of bike that is--maybe it's a Softride and someone made off with his crabon fiber beam.

By the way, as the World's Largest Fred Ride, the Five Boro Bike Tour has predictably generated innumerable "Missed Connection" posts, like this one:


Banana Girl in the 5 Boro Bike Tour - m4w (Brooklyn)

Date: 2011-05-01, 7:33PM EDT

You were doling out bananas at the Flushing rest area for the 5 Boro Bike Tour earlier today. I'm almost certain you noticed me looking at you. However, I was with a friend and you were on the job - so I couldn't quite screw up the courage to talk to you. You have dirty blond hair and striking, blue-gray eyes. I have a moustache, for my own part.

I'd really like to see you again. Drinks? Please get in touch if you see this.

As a bad pun enthusiast I liked the part about "doling out bananas:"


But I especially like that he says he has "a moustache, for my own part." He doesn't say which part, but I think we can infer that when he says he has a mustache for his "part" he means his pubic hair is groomed in this fashion:

I hear all the hipsters are sporting pubic mustaches now, since there's no kind of mustache more ironic than that. In fact, it's probably good enough to get you on TV, judging from this casting call forwarded by yet another reader:

HBO's How To Make It In America looking for featured Hipsters (Manhattan and Brooklyn)
Date: 2011-04-30, 1:48AM EDT
Reply to: [deleted]

Roman Candle Casting is seeking people to portray hipsters on the HBO show "How To Make It In America" starring Brian Greenberg, Victor Rasuk, Lake Bell, and Kid Cudi. So have you ever been called a hipster? Deny being one but own various wardrobe and sport a hairstyle that is considered non-mainstream.? Got any cool tattoos? Have a awesome beard or ironic mustache.? Have some cool vintage dresses? Did you make it to the LCD Soundsystem farewell show or desperately wanted to? If any of these things pertain to you, you're probably just right for the show. Basically we are looking for some cool interesting types to feature on the episode. Looking for model types too.

When submitting please include some candid pictures along with the best phone # to reach you. Also include your availability next week. We are shooting 5/3, 5/4, 5/5, and 5/8. All scenes are specific so if we think you are right for the project we would place you accordingly. We will be shooting in Bushwick and the Lower East Side of Manhattan. If these dates don't work for you there will be other opportunities throughout the season so feel free to submit.

Just don't show up on a track bike, because fixies are totally "out," and Danish sperm bank bikes are totally "in:"


Now that's what I call "load portaging." Too bad he doesn't have a matching sperm-shaped aero helmet. Sure, helmets aren't "cycle chic," but for that I think we can make an exception.

Vulcan's Forgery: Pros and Con Men

Yesterday I mentioned that I was planning to escape from New York due to the draconian anti-bike regime that seems to have taken hold recently. To that end, I received many helpful suggestions from readers, ranging from (to paraphrase) "Just stay where you are and quit whining" to "Go wherever you want, just stay the hell away from my town." Also, one or two people suggested Portland.

Now, I should clarify and point out that at this moment I have no concrete plans for escaping the New York area. Rather, it just seems like it would be nice, and so I've placed it on my list of things I hope will simply fall into my lap one day with little to no effort on my part, along with having my own helicopter and winning Gent-Wevelgem. (I mean, really, if George Hincapie can do it then anybody can.) Still, what cyclist has not contemplated the notion of moving to Portland at one time or another? I know I have. I've even made a comprehensive list of pros and cons:

Pros:

It's very bicycle friendly, there's indoor plumbing, and the people there seem helpful, trusting, and easily duped.

Cons:

If you're going to move across an entire continent, it seems like you should at least land somewhere that has awesome weather.

Until recently, another argument against Portland might have been that it's something of a cultural backwater. (Not that I would make that argument--I live in one of the intellectual capitals of the world and the only culture I partake in is my cable TV package.) Sure, there are plenty of artisans who work in the media of metal tubing, beer, and leather, but besides Powell's bookstore and Gus Van Sant, you could probably fit the entire intellectual community of Portland into Chuck Palahniuk's right sideburn.

However, all of this has changed now that Portland has landed on the cultural map with its very own "Seinfeld" in the form of the show "Portlandia." I mean, people used to scoff at Milwaukee too, but then they got "Laverne & Shirley" and ever since then it's been known as the Paris of Lake Michigan. In fact, "Portlandia" has already had such a profound impact on Portland that you can now pay to take a (what else?) "Portlandia" theme ride:

It's like Kramer's Reality Tour, only with bikes.

Anyway, I can dream of moving to Portland, or the Land of the Epic Burrito, or...well that's it really, frankly the rest of the country seems totally unlivable, but the sad truth is that I'll probably die here in New York City or its suburbs--and that's because odds are I'll get run down by a drunken teenager driving a stolen car with no license who will get off scot-free, the police will pin a $275 ticket for failing to make a proper hand signal to my corpse, and 14 Streetsblog commenters will argue about whether or not I was wearing a helmet.

Speaking of not being able to catch a break, not only do I live in New York, but I'm also a cycling fan, and this has been very possibly the lamest "off season" in professional cycling history. Right now we should be relishing in early season Alberto Contador "fingerbanging" photos as he prepares to defend his Tour de France title, but instead it looks like he'll probably lose that title and get suspended:

Meanwhile, the most smug cycling team the sport has ever seen (at least since Linda McCartny's all-vegetarian squad), Garmin Slipstream Transitions FeltVelo or whatever they are, are embroiled in a whole tedious doping doctor blackmail controversy that has Jonathan Vaughters's sideburns all ruffled:

And let's not forget the whole Lance Armstrong thing, which is like "General Hospital" in that it's been going on forever and they keep writing in new characters:



As far as I'm concerned Contador stole that Tour win fair and square, Slipstream should be as free to market the illusion of their cleanliness as any other cycling team, and if Jeff Novitzky is obsessed with tired relics from the 1990s he should just save the taxpayers a bunch of money and listen to Pearl Jam like everybody else. This is sports, for Lob's sake. Why don't I get to just shut off my brain and watch overpaid freaks like football fans do? Why does following cycling have to be as tedious and stressful as dealing with your health insurance? Maybe it's because road cycling is apparently the sport with the "smuggest" participans, according to a recent poll that was forwarded to me by a reader:

Indeed road cycling is dominating, with the non-cycling sport of triathlon a distant second:

Now, I have no trouble believing that road cycling is the most anal retentive sport, but I don't think it's particularly "smug," and I certainly can't believe it's more smug than some of the other "sports" they've got listed here. Take "standup paddling" for instance. I had to look that one up, and as it turns out it's actually not when you tell jokes while rowing a canoe. There is no way a sport as nichey as standup paddling is less smug than road cycling, and I'm sure its devotees congratulate themselves for even knowing about it and then get all self-righteous about the sport's native Hawaiian heritage. "Yeah, we row boats, but we stand up while doing it"--it's to boating what recumbent riding is to cycling. In fact, standup paddlers even have their own version of the helmet debate, only it centers on life jackets:

As of October 3, 2008, the US Coast Guard now classifies SUPs as vessels and as a result SUP riders are obliged to wear a personal flotation device when paddling in certain areas.[3] Whether this will affect the continued take up of stand up paddling in the USA remains to be seen. The Canadian Coast Guard has implemented similar rules, however SUPer's are only required to have a PFD with them, they don't have to wear them.

Apparently celebrities are also getting into standup paddling, and when it comes to sports that are easy to do while stoned there's one celebrity you're sure to find:

No PFD for the McConaughey--unless you count his partner, that is.

But when it comes to smugness, nothing rivals minimalism, and "57 Things" guy has recently shared some stunning revelations. First of all, even though he despises consumerism, he wears $200 jeans:

However, he's such an ascetic that he doesn't fit in them anymore:

When I got into Boulder, CO (story for another day!) a few days ago, I realized that my 29″ pants were falling off again. I’d lost weight running around New York, or my pants had stretched a bit.

My bright turquoise American Apparel boxer briefs were showing from almost all directions.

I'm pretty sure Gandhi had the exact same problem.

Not only that, but he's also totally over minimalism now:

Yes, he's learned all he can from that path, so now he's choosing another:

I don't consider myself a minimalist anymore, because being a minimalist isn't a thing to be anymore -- it's an idea that came and passed. Minimalism was cool for awhile. Now, it's simply the echo of a revolution that once was.

Just call him "Idiothartha." My best guess is that this is a contrived "Malcolm X splitting from the Nation of Islam" thing designed to generate controversy and increase book sales, but it's also possible that he's about to introduce his own denim line and he realizes that the whole minimalism schtick will be very bad for business.

In any case, when 57 Things jeans do "drop," be sure to wear them while sitting next to your artisanal fire pit:

It's available from Best Made Co. spin-off Base Camp X, who also sell designer axes, and it's a bargain at only $1,300:


The Vulcan fire pit is perfect if you want your loft party to have that gritty hobo vibe, but you're put off by the lack of cachet that comes with a repurposed steel drum:

Nothing tastes better than dog food roasted over a Vulcan fire pit on the balcony of a million-dollar Williamsburg condo.

Just be sure you have appropriately rustic cycling apparel to match, as forwarded by a reader:

Also, be sure your bike has a name, such as Elvis McLightingbolt, as forwarded by another reader:


56 cm track / fixed-gear bicycle (SHINY, HIP) - $400 (tallahassee)
Date: 2011-01-25, 5:53PM EST
Reply to: [deleted]

Sup y'all.

Got a sweet fixee for sale here. It's hella hip and fast as heck. I bought this guy a few years back when I got to school and got a lot of use out of it, but now I'm old (but not really) and out of shape (really), so I downgraded back to a road bike and now I'm selling it. Makes me sad but I need the money and having two bikes is pretty unnecessary.

Here are the spex yo:

Name: Elvis McLightningbolt (you can change the name but I can't guarantee he'll respond to anything else, so consider yourself warned.)

Frame: unlabeled motobecane jury track frame. Same geometry as the steamroller. It's a 54-56 cm frame (not entirely sure) (I'm 5'11 and got long long legs and it's the perfect size for me. so tall people only.) Plus- this thing is frikin chrome y'all, and everyone knows chrome bikes are the fastest bikes.

Wheel Set: white Vuelta Track Pro Deep V's (these things are tough as all get-out and look pretty rad with the black spokes.)

Tyres: continental cyclocross (fat and grippy, take em on the trails!)

Stem: Thomson Elite X4 mountain

Headset: Cane Creek S-8

Saddle: Sella Italia flight titanium

Crankset: Miche Advanced

Brakes: Cane Creek

Handlebars: some no-name brand bullhorns but they're pretty comfortable in any position.

PEDALS NOT INCLUDED (though I can throw in a set of titanium egg beaters for 50 bucks if you want to be really HxC)

I bought the bike with all these components and it's served me really well over the years. The gear ratio is pretty high but it's got a great top cruising speed. I know whoever buys Elvis here is gonna have just as much fun tearing up the streets of tally. You could even start a bike gang, because this bike looks like a leader.

If you're interested in taking a look or a test-ride, shoot me an email and we'll set something up. Thanks!

PICTURES BELOW! (not actual size. super-hip model/roommate not included (though we might be able to work something out ($$$))


That kind of salesmanship definitely warrants a disembodied thumbs up.