by Sean Nixon (br>
This is not news, but old questions. Why would Nixon join the military?
Author Robert Bythe told a story, there was a woods and hunters came to hunt in those woods and every time hunters went into the woods they wouldn�t return. Then one day a young hunter and asked if there was a dangerous place to go hunting and the people told hime of the woods. So he went into the woods with only his dog. He came upon a lake and a hand came up and grab the dog and pulled her into the lake and the dog was no more. And he looked up at the sky and said, �I am home.�
Federation for Sport at Altitude
Minutes from Sept 5, 2004
Miscellaneous Items:
Motion brought to floor by Gaizka Izia to ban athletes who display poor sportsmanship during international competition. Discussion continued with comments from Asier Urdanpilleta about a display of poor sportsmanship by Bill Raitter, a former U.S. Mountain Running team member, at the Pikes Peak marathon. A motion was made by Joan Colomer to ban people from all competition who not only defame the competition but also the FSA. Counterpoint added by Juan Canamos that some of the younger runners in the sport are very emotional and unintentionally make negative comments. Gaizka Izia interjected that Raitter is 34 years of age. Paul Low (with an awkward British accent) the USATF representative stated that Mr. Raitter probably would not qualify for anymore international competitions and therefore can not be a negative influence on the sport. Discussion was finalized with a reassurance that USATF would no longer allow Bill Raitter to compete in international competition. A motion was made by Izia and seconded by Canamos that if he did qualify, the FSA would find Raitter ineligible. Vote of general members passed the motion.
After months of contemplation in the Rocky Mountains William originally decided to opt out of elective surgery. Until the annoucement of the World Mountain Running team. At which point he chose the testicle removal option. Quite simple procedure, any Vet can do it. William also decided not to continue with De-gassing procedure, claiming, "the smell made the man." A very unpopular marital choice. His wife was quoted saying, "I still have to live with a smelly fat ass." We believe it was the emotion around decisions like these lead to these remarks. Unfortunately, the 7 ozs will not allow him to reach his goal and New Balance still will not have a new client in Lightweight trainers.
On the good side of the decision, we calculate that with one testicle he will be able to drop his time approximately .25 seconds per mile. Allowing him to be able to run a new summer 5K PR of 16:19.25..
The lateral fat roll tissue in the leg disguise the absence of a sex organ. There is hardly any evidence of surgery.
After an extensive weight counseling with William Raitter III, we have identified goals and solutions to his growing weight problem and concerns.
Goal: William wishes to weigh 150lbs or lighter so he falls into the category of lightweight runner. This will allow him to be a prime candidate for the new model of lightweight running shoes by New Balance.
Step 1 - Massive de-gassing squeeze. After careful analysis the amount of liquid gas in William's bowls weighs 2.5lbs. When this gas is mixed with a chocolate compund it ignites into almost lethal gaseous form. Unfortunately, I won't be present for this procedure.
Step 2 - Organ Removal - We have an extraordinay amount of redundant organs in our body each with an unique excessive weight. Some choices for removal are:
Step 3 - Removal of Excessive Tissue Brain Tissue - 1 oz per I sq in Child bearing hip bones - 1 oz per I sq in.
After removal of all weight William should be sleak enough to fit into those lightweight trainers of his dreams.
Pictured after counseling session (***Notice the child bearing hips and excessive organ stores)
Essay 32 -SEACOW Wannabe-Instead of posting another nonrunning bit of information on a running site and having the hits on the site drop to 1 per month, I decided to post this email that I received via the SEACOW page.
Dear Sir/Madam,
I am a Kenyan aged 22 years, athlete by profession and I am very interested in Knowing more about your club and also to join your club. I have taken part in most of long distances races in Kenya upto National level. I do trust that you will consider my request to join and train with your club. I am sure that with all your support, good training facilities and coaching system, I would able to make it upto international level.
Indeed I belief that it will expose me internationally since my aim with athletics is upto international level. Training here in Kenya things are fine since I am training at Kericho 320km West of Nairobi with an altitude of about 7500 feet and I`m doing well.
I am optimistic of joining you so that I can prosper in my career.
Or I can leave the posting about over consumption written before heading to the Nike factory
side note
Nike now lets you personalize your shoes by submitting a word or phrase which they will stitch onto your shoes, under the swoosh. So Jonah Peretti filled out the form and sent them $50 to stitch "sweatshop" onto his shoes.
Here's the responses he got... fun and games with Nike...
From: "Personalize, NIKE iD"
To: "'Jonah H. Peretti'"
Subject: RE: Your NIKE ?iD order o16468000
Your NIKE iD order was cancelled for one or more of the following reasons:
1) Your Personal iD contains another party's trademark or other intellectual property
2) Your Personal iD contains the name of an athlete or team we do not have the legal right to use
3) Your Personal iD was left blank. Did you not want any personalization?
4) Your Personal iD contains profanity or inappropriate slang, and besides, your mother would slap us.
Thank you, NIKE iD
From: "Jonah H. Peretti"
To: "Personalize, NIKE iD"
Subject: RE: Your NIKE ?iD order o16468000
Greetings,
My order was canceled but my personal NIKE iD does not violate any of the criteria outlined in your message. The Personal iD on my custom ZOOM XC USA running shoes was the word "sweatshop."
Sweatshop is not:
1) another's party's trademark,
2) the name of an athlete,
3) blank, or 4) profanity.
I choose the iD because I wanted to remember the toil and labor of the children that made my shoes. Could you please ship them to me immediately.
Thanks and Happy New Year, Jonah Peretti
From: "Personalize, NIKE iD"
To: "'Jonah H. Peretti'"
Subject: RE: Your NIKE ?iD order o16468000
Dear NIKE iD Customer,
Your NIKE iD order was cancelled because the iD you have chosen contains, as stated in the previous e-mail correspondence, "inappropriate slang". If you wish to reorder your NIKE iD product with a new personalization please visit us again at nike.com
Thank you, NIKE iD
From: "Jonah H. Peretti"
To: "Personalize, NIKE iD"
Subject: RE: Your NIKE ?iD order o16468000
Dear NIKE iD,
Thank you for your quick response to my inquiry about my custom ZOOM XC USA running shoes. Although I commend you for your prompt customer service, I disagree with the claim that my personal iD was inappropriate slang. After consulting Webster's Dictionary, I discovered that "sweatshop" is in fact part of standard English, and not slang. The word means: "a shop or factory in which workers are employed for long hours at low wages and under unhealthy conditions" ?and its origin dates from 1892. ?So my personal iD does meet the criteria detailed in your first email.
Your web site advertises that the NIKE iD program is "about freedom to choose and freedom to express who you are." I share Nike's love of freedom and personal expression. The site also says that "If you want it done right...build it yourself." I was thrilled to be able to build my own shoes, and my personal iD was offered as a small token of appreciation for the sweatshop workers poised to help me realize my vision. I hope that you will value my freedom of expression and reconsider your decision to reject my order.
Thank you, Jonah Peretti
From: "Personalize, NIKE iD"
To: "'Jonah H. Peretti'"
Subject: RE: Your NIKE ?iD order o16468000
Dear NIKE iD Customer,
Regarding the rules for personalization it also states on the NIKE iD web site that "Nike reserves the right to cancel any personal iD up to 24 hours after it has been submitted". In addition, it further explains: "While we honor most personal iDs, we cannot honor every one.
Some may be (or contain) other's trademarks, or the names of certain professional sports teams, athletes or celebrities that Nike does not have the right to use. Others may contain material that we consider inappropriate or simply do not want to place on our products.
Unfortunately, at times this obliges us to decline personal iDs that may otherwise seem unobjectionable. In any event, we will let you know if we decline your personal iD, and we will offer you the chance to submit another." With these rules in mind, we cannot accept your order as submitted. If you wish to reorder your NIKE iD product with a new personalization please visit us again at www.nike.com
Thank you, NIKE iD
From: "Jonah H. Peretti"
To: "Personalize, NIKE iD"
Subject: RE: Your NIKE ?iD order o16468000
Dear NIKE iD,
Thank you for the time and energy you have spent on my request. I have decided to order the shoes with a different iD, but I would like to make one small request. Could you please send me a color snapshot of the ten-year-old Vietnamese girl who makes my shoes?
Thanks,
Jonah Peretti
As one forwarder writes:
... this will now go round the world much farther and faster than any of the adverts they paid Michael Jordan more than the entire wage packetof all their sweatshop workers in the world to do...
I normally avoid making a plea to pass on these things,but this time I say:
JUST DO IT
Essay 31 Tis the Season by Bluedog
Consumption time. Ahhhhh it is here. After 11 months of overconsuming, it's time to get down to buisness. First, new "studded" tires for the cherry red S.U.V. to drive on the overly plowed pavement paths for my overfed family to be safe on the way to a nameless super shopping center,located a healthy 10 miles away from the center of anytown USA. Perhaps a new "plasma" T.V.,since the 4 you have might break in the future. A means to a known end. Or maybe some more traditional purchases for the young'ens: an interactive game system to prepare them for continued suburban cultural isolation, isolation and eventual recruitment to fight for your right to own an oversized fun machine.
Now for the countless young urban professionals on your list... Let's see, an expresso machine will enhance their boundless nervous energy created from a lack of community and functional meaningful career. Or, movie passes to hollyworld to allow escape from a reality bound with insignificant "busy work" hollow relationships. The best gift is always a gift of perpetual giving so a self-help book will comfort the obvious fact that the remainder of his or her life will be spent in the endless pursuit of the dollar, unless, he or she is a trustafarian [sic],then a bag of premium high grade chronic will do.
For all those happy religous souls on your list, try Under The Banner of Heaven,a book by Johnny K. It will subtly let the reader know that hearing the voice of god is basic schizophrenia and he or she needs help. Or you can give them another shiny decoration for the tree God provided, with the help of a sacred chainsaw, so they can marvel for the years to come on each dying organism they drag into their home. Your faithful contribution to their need to dominate the natural world on every level.
If all of this makes you want to be really really drunk well just follow the seacow plan and your holiday season will be a sucess. 1. Exercise much, when you see a house celebrating the mind-blowing waste of electricity with dancing figures of arian supremacy and fictional disney nonsense,it is better to have expended your energy first. Otherwise you tend to have visions of shoving a plastic santa up an investment bankers ass or actually try. 2. Hopefully with your time off you become more aware of your ability to notice that cubicles and vehicles suck, so, most of your time should be spent outdoors with trees that have stars shining through the branches creating the effect every dipshit with a tree in their home is doing with Korean-made gadgets. This revelation will provide you with boundless ideas for moonlight hikes or healthy recon operations for slicing cable tv wires or pulling the holiday plugs. 3. If you are stuck in the confines of an american hell holiday the best idea is to become really really drunk and commence with activities you feel the alcohol has deemed appropriate ie. fake humping one of the three wise men from the talking manger scene, hitting on the 17 year old daughter, pissing in visable range of groups, recalling every split from your last workout.
Have a happy holiday
from the seacow staff
ESSAY 30 THE RECRUIT BY SEANOW
It was a hot day in Kalamazoo. The team gathered to prepare for their trip to cross country camp. Coach Shaw had a meeting with me earlier in the month to discuss possible scholarships for the season. He had offered me full tuition and books at the end of the previous season, however, he had a special meeting with me discussing a new recruit. A guy right out of the military who claims to have run a 2:16 marathon. �He�ll give EMU�s 13:49 5000m runner a run for his money. Besides with his military background he�ll give the team new leadership,� Shaw gloated. The meeting went on to discuss what is better for the program and ended with me losing my scholarship to his new recruit.
There was a bit of anxiety in the air as the new recruit straight from the military, and paid better than any of us, came cruising up in his Fiero GT (Turbo) revving his engine and blaring some indistinguishable music. The military boy hopped out, walking past us at a safe enough distance to check the situation and avoid conversations. His eyes shaded by a brand new pair of Oakley Sunglasses making it hard for anyone to get a good look at his face. In one movement, he leaps onto a small wall to lie down and kick off his designer sandals.
On the way to camp, Coach Shaw stops the team to eat at his favorite dining establishment � McDonalds. He discusses with the team that the MAC coaches ranked us 2nd in the Conference because of our new recruit. He should be in the run for the title. The Recruit does not sit with the team or hear the fuss coach is making while he inhales his two Big Macs and large order of fries.
Arriving at camp, our still silent new recruit separates himself from the team. Protesting to coach that he does not want to sleep in the same area where the rest of the team sleeps. Coach makes a comment to the rest of us that true leaders separate themselves.
Our first run is hot and starts along the road. We run as a pack as we turn onto a sand two track that takes us to the lake 7 miles away. The mood is more relaxed as we ease into the run. There is a little joking and then some laughing. Finally, the military boy decides to speak to us for the first time. �How do guys run without Oakley�s!?� There is a moment of complete silence and then he picks up the pace.
First race comes at CMU. Jeff Drenth Invitational. The new recruit has not said much to the rest of us and has run on his own pushing every distance run and easy day, but not quite together in workouts. He hasn�t offered any advise nor has he showed the least of concerns in the team. We wonder about his leadership. There are several good runners at the meet. They should give him a good run. This is the chance he�s been waiting for. The day before we ran an easy 5 miler and his easy was 5:45 mile pace.
The gun goes off. I jockey for a position. The field is fairly large, I mainly watch to the lead and the feet of the people in front of me. After we settle I try to determine who is in front of me from our team to get an idea of how our team is doing. Surprisingly, there is no one from our team in front of me! A moment of panic, did something happen at the start, did I go out too fast. There should be at least three people ahead of me. We weave in the woods and no one passes me. Did our recruit fall down. The finish comes too quickly, and I finish in 6th place. I go back to cheer for the team. They start piling in. Finally the recruit comes in 11th man 5:58 mile pace for 4 miles.
Back at the bus the mood is somber. The team did not do as well as expected. A sprinter running to get in shape asks us, �What is the difference between a bucket of shit and the XC team�The Bucket.� It did not improve the mood.
The season continued in the same manner for our recruit. He would run his long easy days in 5:45 pace and his races in 5:50 pace. Later, we learned that he never ran a 2:16 marathon.
I saw a plan written in the soil. I swilled the writing and learned who I was. Discoveries of this magnitude should cause something. No. It makes ya dig.
In an everlasting way I see blue eyes without my presence, in the coffee colored soil. It might be my life or a dream. Undoubtly not my choice just the progress of everything. If I did something about the plan perhaps I might see why I was chosen. Dirt does not make it easy the water from my eyes makes things muddy.
I awkwardly moved the map with my new boots fashioned in "work" boot honor. Its plan was not changed just the plain physicalness of the reason. Simply, my percieved life is, well, The Matrix.
Do not laugh the truth is not a simple Holywood dream or a Greek poets rapture. The truth is a lengthy movement between alterations of the mirky plan.
The plan is survival - the pursuit of it. Violent Bike Police Man told me to run. Alternatively, a sober office ecologist told me to stay put and count the end of balance. Indecision has allowed me access to the cold silvery pergatory, the middle. It will soon pass along the rivers at my side. I wait for us to all see how brave everything we cannot see is. Eyes do not sit in bone forever....
Shimmering reality will be a moment. I do not want to forget the greedy taste. However, would like to know why the clouds had white legs and the pause of time let me see that. I just have to wait.
(Using my best prim and proper English accent.)
Whilst out on my daily constitutional run, zipping through the high desert of Oregon country. I started to feel the most curious sensation in my stomach. Trying to ignore it at first, and concentrating on the task at hand, I realized what it was that was aligning my turning midsection.
"Goodness me, I believe I have to poop." I thought to myself.
Keeping the gentleman's modesty in mind. I found what seemed to a rather secluded place to lessen the load of my full bowels. Hopping off the trail and, for lack of a better term, squatting by a large ponderosa pine. I relaxed, thinking my troubles were about to be relieved.
Turning ever so slightly to my right flank. It was called to my attention, that the location I had chosen was quite near a very large red ant hill. Within seconds the dastardly little creature invaded my personal body space. Biting, ever so inconspicuously, the back of my legs and buttocks. It was then I come to realize I was in great peril.
On the quick step I rose to my feet, slapping the little creatures off of me, whirling around and shrieking, in a most ungentlemanly fashion. Of coarse, I survived the ordeal, that is how I can come to you today to retell these events. But my hardships were not ended there.
Being over eight or nine hectares from civilization, still with full bowels, and now many red welts from ant bites. I started the arduous journey home. It was of the most painful, and humiliating runs of my long career with that sporty past time, to which passer-bys wondered about the strange gait in my stride.
It is my belief that the moral of this tale is this. We can build fancy houses, and large cities. But the second one becomes foolish enough not to remember that we share this earth with many other creatures. Well then, one get his ass chewed.
Thank-you for listening, have a pleasant day.
The recounting of the events you've just read, by no means represents all ants in and around your area, or all runners. Keep it clean!
Are we all just children saying that everything is that simple? Do we worry incessantly about meaningless trivial weaknesses in our soul that won't matter two to three days down the road? Yes. Each of us has our own ghosts or demons that haunt us. Recently, the European nations described out foreign policy as simplistic. We see only right and wrong. The wrong being countries we can easily label as "Axis of Evil." We will kill for the simplicity. Each one of us. Its a way to look at the world perpetuated by the society we live in. Sport has helped to increase this simplicity and take the sting out of real issues that can drive a person mad. It can also fill the mind with ideas of statistics, records, and workouts. Making everything trivial important. Getting our damn priorities mixed up. Remember to move across the land like a shadow and through a history like a hammer.
Am I a cow headed for slaughter? Musings of a 20-something yuppie-track
professional cow with (gasp!) a taste for free thought.
Here I sit, trapped inside a large cylinder hurtling through an
atmosphere incapable of sustaining human life. The stewardesses are
like cowboys on a drive, and we passengers are but dumb Holsteins
destined for a slaughterhouse, or wherever we may be headed. Indeed,
the parallels to a cattle drive are practically endless - the herd of
passengers is placated with movies and snacks whenever the collective
restlessness of the herd reaches a critical level. The sweet
reassurance of the beverage cart keeps me in line, as does the cowboys
lasso. Whenever a cow might raise his or her head and voice free
expression, a stewardess is quick to offer earphones so the renegade cow
can shut down their mind with an in-flight movie, or the mindless drivel
that follows.
My reading material might raise eyebrows from my cowboys. Should I be
reading this commie crap? After all, who should care what transpires in
Sand County? And certainly we shouldn't be thinking thoughts about the
benefits of a simple existence versus the ability to quickly veer from
coast to coast in order to do our little part to line the pockets of
some greedy fat bastard. A simple existence? Sweet jesus no! No we
can't have simple. We must keep the herd happy, and complacent� well
fed with a snackpack resplendent in its packaged glory, six pitifully
small articles of food, each individually wrapped in plastic or foil,
lovingly contained in an outer womb of plastic.
I shamefully consume the contents of my feed bag. Wolfed them down,
better than wasting them, and I'll have fuel for my later activities
where I will exercise my primeval right to sweat and seek out the very
few precious acres of dirt still remaining in the belly of the concrete
and steel behemoth. Shall I see any fellow cattle out sweating as
well? Or will they belly back up to the sweet trough this evening,
swilling martinis and diet cokes as they complete the days excesses -
hopefully they had a chance to squeeze in some shopping on 5th avenue
before dinner. Maybe when it is time for the slaughter no one will want
the skinny cow.
Moo on
d
Fuck Webster�s�, we all know what it means to be ethical. To �do the right thing� as Spike Lee would say. To not cut a course in a race, to not take unfair advantage that your opponent couldn�t equally do. You don�t wear roller blades in a running race. Your pinewood derby car does not have a motor. If you have to lie or cheat to get ahead, are you really ahead?
Illegally weighting down your pinewood derby car with .0008 of an ounce really isn�t going to help, but it is cheating. You have built a car that is fit; you spent months preparing it to race. It is a good car and the weight you add is not going to change anything, but you feel that it will give you that added edge. What is the difference that .0008 of an ounce will make in 25 meters? Is it worth eternal damnation?
Eternal Damnation? Wait a fucking minute, Damnation is a term usually associated with religion and Morals. Judgmental crap used to shame people to acting as you would have them act. So one person�s ethics is another�s Morals.
Morals, I have none, don�t want them, don�t need them and have nothing to say.
Bill runs with me. He goes far but waits up when I fall back. A couple months ago he was always gone in the day and only came home when it was near dark. When he came into the house my tail would wag and wag but he would just drink the stuff in the bottles and ignore me, kicking me if I got in the way. I could smell discontent and anger all the time but my hope of our simple days would always remain because thats what dogs do.
One day he came home without any hope for the modern world and swore to never forget the simple life of past. His main regret was allowing the greed to devour his soul and mind. He told me about the frantic pace to go nowhere so that the economy of efficient consumption is maintained. He spoke of the souless demons addicted to busyness, stress,fastfood,debt,and fossil fuel. They spoke of the "bottom line" and 50+ hour weeks of work. The last straw, Bill said, was when they said he had too many other interests.
I am glad Bill works on the house and runs with me all day. I am glad he has "other interests". The other dogs in the neighborhood are always howling and barking for their owners I guess they are being "productive". I know I am only a dog but I think people should stay home more, should walk and run more, should pet me more and save more resources. But what do I know I lick my own ass.
The lowly weasel lifted its tattered head into the sky to see a
sharp eyed Golden Eagle streaming toward him, talons outstretched. It
braced for a piercing demise trembling, weary, somewhat welcoming; a
exit from a non appreciated proletarian existence. But, nothing
happened. With one eye open he raised his head to see the mighty eagle
being sucked into a jet engine. Without much reflection the sauntering
mammal lurched off into another day of toil. Moral - Eagles may soar
but the weasel never gets sucked into a jet engine.
Our culture is a pus filled aberration, a SUV in a herd of thick
chested elk. We ARE a insult to all that is humble and frugal.
There is a constant hummmm in the air. Voices from books and
inherited memories mewing the lost hopes of balance. Fighting it will
only pull a mind into the same abyss joining it will complete its
monoculture goal.
Stepping beyond it is the last hope. Cheating the foolish destiny
of the beast, headbutting with blood dripping from your teeth with
burning eyes opening thoughts cracking the materialistic mucus built from
our diseducation.
From inside a military training center a special report has been recieved by secret sources. The following is a interview with an elite officer canidate and fellow cow - seanow.
REPORTERCOW
So, Seanow how is life in the training acadamy?
SEANOW
Sir I am sorry I exsist Sir! How many would you like!!
(seanow is doing a series of up and down motions on the floor which look like pushups???)
REPORTERCOW
I guess they are strict here, seanow. But, you can relax I just want to give other seacows an idea of what military life is like.
SEANOW
It is against rule 4674b to disclose what training is conducted here, Sir! I can give you my name rank and serial number only!!!
REPORTERCOW
Chill, home slice, is there anything you regret about this drastic life change?
SEANOW
NOTHING!!!!! I regret nothing about joining the brotherhood. I love all the long times spent marching, cleaning, working with all the other muscle laden cadets. Hours and hours of repetative duties sweaty and focused with one thing on your mind. OOOOOO RA.
REPORTERCOW
So you feel it was a good choice? But, maybe slightly drastic considering your compassionate work with the boys and girls club.
SEANOW
Compassion is for the Weak! (SEANOW is now cleaning- Julie ,his AR 50 assult rifle) Violence is the only mode of change people respect! It is clean a pure like the core!!! We are the Judge and the Jury the keepers of peace through violence!!!!
REPORTERCOW
Have you done any good running while here?
SEANOW
Running is a individualistic endever, I march to percision marine core marching chants for hours and hours. Running will be abolished in the new world order it creates freedom and happiness and must be changed to a regimented goverened activity with set boundries and circular tracks, oh, i guess the circular tracks have already been established, OOOOOO RA!
REPORTERCOW
I heard the seacows won the willamete open and then saw bob dylan, do you regret not doing it with them or moving there and joing the guard or something less drastic?
SEANOW
Bob dylan is a peace loving pansy, he creates individuals who want nothing more than to love one another and live in peace. I do wish i could have moved to bend and ran the years away with that punkin maniac and his lost soul of a owner but we all must make our own meandering paths i just chose the asphalt one with tanks and guns. (a man with a big hat and sun glasses just entered) YOU FUCKING MAGGOT, GIVE ME 100, GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE YOU SEACOW FREAK, SEANOW IS OURS!!!!!!!!!
REPORTERCOW
Apparently the marines is not as bad as you might have thought. Just another self destuctive avenue for the lost white male. I just think the world would be better if we solved all of our problems with NERF. MOOOOO ON
I once thought there was hope for America, nope. This collection of large buildings is a clear reflection of Amercan "society". To even say we have a culture is a insult to the word culture. We have made the vomitoriums of the ancient greek seem humble even frugal. How has it occurred?! Is it a free market obsessed with greed and waste? Is it lack of enlightment in education? Is it the final symbol of a shallow self absorbed species? Or a final punishment from decades of idustrial living, the ghosts of the native americans grinning in the swirling lights, machines, and erratic noises.
The idea that by pulling a lever all your dreams will come true is truely the final symptom of a large disease that started long ago. It all started so innocently with the exchage of something shiny for some food thousands of years ago. It obviously took control of us somehow. We lost the idea of simple celebration, simple beauty, wastless balance and traded it for laser light shows, dancing fountains, fake volcanos, thousands of personal trasportation machines, and giant hive like sleeping cells with no fresh air. Purely the most concentrated random useless wastefullness to ever exist.
What does this have to do with running, well, perhaps the evolution of sport from art to game. From running in clear view of all the universial energy, with the mind and body connected to the living universe to measuring and timing - competing. The games started with simple communities gathering for social amusement and evolved into resource sucking beasts, racing started with cultures acknowledging the physical beauty and benefit of strong bodies and evolved into the petty boastful spirt of the self absorbed. Is it the person with the glazed eyes from the glowing machines or the yellow eyes from the drugs fault or is it the perversed culture that created the final quest for "perfection" or "elitism". Whatever the answer the symptoms are obvious.
The endless sickness of materialism and individualism is all over this land. It swells the mind with greed and discontent. It creates a place full of hate and isolation. It warrents millions spent on military, police, prisons, and drugs (legal and not legal). More is the answer of the leaders of this country - Keep it going, growth for the sake of growth. Spend so we can keep bombing, paving, building, polluting.
Being witness to the greatest loss of all values from spiritual to evironmental is enlightening in the darkest sense. Its kinda like reading Walden while people are building storage sheds across the road. The ideas are all around us in us, during our most hopeful moments on the trails in the midnight snow in the sun soaked trees. Just step away from it all clear out sounds of mother culture shake the busyness from your head search for the simplest truest meanings that transend you from pulling levers - satisfying any of the empty hopes created by a culture gone wrong.
The answer is - give up. Give up on all of those dreams promised from consumerism. Forget all the car commercials and happy smiling ads promising happiness. Forget the dreams of a generation who thought up the idea of retiring in a RV, earning the right to become kings and queens. Stop muting the voices with the drugs of the corperations, let the cosmic energy in. Allow the simple joys to regain meaning.
During my stay in "Sin City" I kept allowing the vision of the ridge I had skied the day i left to appear like a dream. I saw giant pines with mist suspended in rays of life giving sunlight, so alive, so real. Every stretch SUV, every fat lever pulling trogladite, every porno trading card, all of it dissappeared because of the hope my heart was given deep in the open wildness.
For many eons I have pondered the question, "should I move to Triathlete?" Now since making my decision many people, and more importantly Cows, Have asked me Why. With a short essay I thought I would share a few of pluses:
1. More gadgets and gizmos to buy.
2. Can cover more pavement, this also gives me a reason to support Americas obsession with the road.
3. Swimming is a very natural and sustainable activity, even though is mostly done in a 100,000 gallon vat of lethal chemicals.
4. Yuppies are nicer people than those whining bohemian runners.
5. It gives me an excuse to buy an SUV to carry all the thousands of dollars in accessoires.
6. Triathlete magazine is way cooler than any running magazine.
7.After moving up to the marathon the only move up from there is the Tri.
8. Gu is more widely used.
9. Easier to get a big corporate sponsor like Exxon or Nike.
10. I can have more material to write long winded essays about nothing Cow related for the Seacow website.
11. So I can try to introduce the work "sustainable" to the Tri world
12. The most important motivator, however, is what keeps me going - The MONEY.
"Shag me rotten baby", screams jacob's midnight black sideburns. Along with a thick black 4 inch mane, a 1980's Audi coupe, a cd collection of sex ballads including Barry White, and a qazi jewish latvian vernacular, is a mojo that blocks many common electrical currents. Before the females reading this rush to the phone they must understand he is close to IT. It being the giant hill repeat of relationship, the perpetual sez mount, the ultimate enlistment into the perpetual military. Slice the cake, throw the flowers, watch your friends pass out during the chicken waltz, see the mojo's glow ease into the glow of the disco lights.
The mojo's departing request of unending aerobic punishment will be honored by many attending its dissappearance ceremony. In fact, the cob's recent 18:20 effort on a hilly 5k is a sign of many lowered PR's do to encreased sperm build up while waiting for the next Shopko catalog. THE cob will be executed, I mean married on Sep. 14 with large veined "dogs" on a bun and a bottle of vino for all. It will be a mojo we will all miss. Lets just hope he does not join the marines as well. Congrats Jalex!!
LINCOLN REPORT
The final quest to display the perfection imagined from the mind's eye has occured. Its carpeted walls connected via the grace of organized proper, of hivelike efficient lust. Industrial might reflecting standardization, classification total perfection.
Frozen calm, somehow taught or silently injected, neatly woven into the ideal square around him. Air always steady like the hope of the pay check waiting somewhere on the white calender.
Dreams created by the swift currents of alternating currents all around you. The sounds seem to be always the same, the smells, the pain. The most primal urge is your final thought - RUN. Or, check the the seacow website for the lincoln update:
The early morning dew sparkled with the rising sun. Most Nebraskans took to the chaples and churches for salvation from mankinds origional sins. Birds drifted lazily on the morning air currents. Gravity continued to pull us toward the largest objects - all was normal, except??!?!!? Vanderlincoln's demise. Yes, in some bizarro world/freak universe where good is bad and white is black and superman has no power, tim "lincoln" vanderman was defeated by numberous runners. Some souces claim to have seen Tim finish before the finish line was set up and that his recorded time was actually his third loop of the course. Raitter was quoted, "ya, i saw him (tim) disappear into the cornfields surrounded by a everglowing halo of power." Others say that tim's deal with the dark lord has given him problems in the past. like, when he finished in 1 hr 17 min. last year and was forced to run it again to not raise any doubts. Sean, stated: "fuck, at 23 i started walking but then this perfect military form appeared in front of me and touched me on the spot where my rank will be placed after I graduate from one of my basic trainings". In the end the sun set and the lincoln coarse returned to normal traffic but the most powerful, forever ready, deadly, fighting force in the world slipped into the record books then into a disco afro american bar to dance to the national championship dance. We're BAck - oooooo ra.
by the sez
The lateral fat roll tissue in the leg disguise the absence of a sex organ. There is hardly any evidence of surgery.
