A Druid Dichotomy

Which is better, the spread of bare ground or the diminishment of vegetative cover?

Hmm. This may be an example of a Druid Dichotomy where the twain horns or forks are the same difference. Yet, one option may make this or that individual feel better than the alternative. And where better to study or peruse which option or horn is better than the Stinky Valley Elementary School grounds (conspicuously available to the people) where bare ground is increasing and vegetative cover is diminishing, whichever you prefer.

Yes. Only the irrigated prosper. So, the irrigated plots on the school grounds feature perennial plants (vegetative cover) in a wood chip matrix. Elsewhere, bare ground increases, or, if you feature a negative type personality, the vegetative cover diminishes. Only the irrigated prosper. Consequently, the perennial grass matrix which once occurred on the school grounds, a mix of bermudagrass, kr bluestem, dallisgrass and buffalograss is increasingly replaced by bare ground. Only the irrigated prosper. Which means that the school ground is dusty as the rain falleth not, or muddy if the rain falleth almost never.

Why not cover up the whole shebang with wood chips? Well. That might be OK. Though, the wood chips are dusty too, plus flammable. Plus the little children might hurt themselves fixing to frisk about on the wood chips.

Now for the Ovation. Which is what a Druid Ovate does, ovations. Austink and its associated bedroom communities are fixing to ban irrigation. Bare ground, as a result, is bound to increase, or, if you prefer, vegetative cover will decrease. Furthermore, we shall enjoy a shift from perennial plant dominance to annual plant dominance. Also, this policy shall serve to make the climate hotter. Oh yes. The climate shall wax even hotter than it is now.

How deserts happen.

What Happened to Ray Pistrum?

Nobody knows precisely. Not even Ray. Yet sadly, Crumby’s bosom companion, Ray, wound up in physical therapy for a bad right shoulder. In Ray’s own words:

It was terrible Crumby. I couldn’t scratch or rub the back of my own noggin. I couldn’t finger my anus for medicinal purposes or excuses. I could barely withdraw a handkerchief from its customary habitat in a right hip pocket. And worst of all, I never did figure out what happened. It just suddenly started a-hurting and I lost the better part of half my movement on that side over night. I was crippled, I figured, maybe for life.

Yet most may know that this sort of pitiful affliction is usually the result of possession by one of your lesser demons. Not a super important demon such as Beelzebub or Mammon, but a nameless demon of small sort, maybe a lady or child demon, nevertheless, prancing with mischief.

Here’s how that may work. The demon jumps a person while he or she is unaware. Like maybe the person or victim of the demon is fixing to hoist a bicycle up by a tree limb while inebriated or stoned out of his or her mind. The demon, observing from a ways off, immediately sees its opportunity, then quickly pounces. Ordinarily the demon gains access through an orifice. Pores are too small. But there are several larger orifices familiar to many. Once the demon has pounced and gotten inside the victim via an orifice, in this example, Ray and one of Rays' major orifices, the demon usurps the motion or ability to move a particular limb or organ, while at the same time, that ability is denied to Ray. Then, instead of Ray getting to fully move his arm, the demon has possession of Ray’s arm and only the demon can move the arm the rest of the way it would normally move with no demon present. Surely everyone can see the common sense in that.

Ray had to go to therapy for two months, get an MRI, visit with a chiropractor, visit with an orthopedic surgeon, plus pay out big bucks to get shut of the minor demon. Plus, all the doctors would advise Ray, Could be worse. Could be cancer.

You probably know yourself that the cockiness of the Americano medicos and their whimsical disregard of the sickly Americano public is totally a function of the collapse of the Worldwide Communist Conspiracy. That’s right. With the Soviet Union, the last hope of the White Race gone to Hades, the millionaire doctors donated mass quantities of bribes to the pols for tort reform. Goodness! Those running dog doctors and pols no longer feared alienating the class conscious masses.

However, despite the demons and doctors, Ray is just about recovered. It’s a miracle. The demon has been cast out via physical therapy. However, Ray may never be entirely well again. Because, a wound inflicted by a demon may never fully heal. Ray may carry that wound for the rest of his life. Then, when Ray is super old, he will board an elf boat. And the elves will welcome old incontinent Ray. Yes. Ray shall pay off the nautical elves, then sail to within sight of the Blessed Isles. But of course, mere mortals are not allowed to actually set foot on the Blessed Isles. Mercy! The last anyone shall ever see of Ray is a gas bubble riding the tide.

Something you don't see, ever!

Since the CB finally got a little rain, we are actually getting to enjoy a flower or two. But this particular flower shown here surprised many. It is a Turk's cap (Malvaviscus drummondii) flower, opened up. Crumby first espied it yesterday, but forgot to take its picture. But here it is, still open today. What the heck? Is this the result of the horrendous environmental conditions of these parts? Or, is this one a sport?

Rain at Last

Crumby reckons the WG decided to reprieve the many evil doers. So, at last, after four months of no rain, the rain fell. Naturally, after this great dry spell featuring incredibly high temperatures and shifting foundations, the roof has sprung a leak. So far, the leaks are not so bad we need buckets. But a leak is a leak.

Damnation!

Will the damnation survive? It does not deserve to survive. But deserves got nothing to do with it.

Boy howdy! Like Crumby now has twain bicycles. That's because the red blade is unsafe at any speed, thus, ruling it out for long, hilly, chloresterol rides. So this new bike, a Trek 7100 vintage 2008, is a way better bike than the Blade. (No offense meant to Spalding).

Yet mysteriously, a broken spoke and a bunch of loose spokes suddenly appeared on the rear tire of the 7100. How did that happen? Nobody knows. Maybe the result of an overloaded grocery shopping trip. Maybe an evil doer kicked Crumby's spoke. Goddess preserve us.

In any event, Crumby had to fix the spokes just like Crumby will need to fix the roof, again, anon, to temporarily plug the leak. Mercy!

Crumby needed a special bike tool to replace the spoke. That's because on Crumby's new bike you need to take the freewheel off before you can thread on a new spoke. Yes. You need the RS-1 freewheel tool and maybe a vice. Crumby is happy he already had the vice, purchased for wristwatch repair.

Nevertheless, this particular bike repair reminded Crumby of why so many people drive cars.

Karma Schmarma

Yesterday, Crumby spent a great while laundering the Red Blade. Mercy! No wonder many ride a bike for a while then get a new bike pre-maintenance. Course, in all, or nearly all, honesty, the Red Blade never has been cleaned off in like 20 years. So it may have been dirtier than your average bicycle. Maybe. Goodness! Mercy!

OK. To get a chain actually clean, you most likely shall need to take it off the bicycle. Jeez F. Louise! Truth is. To get the bike actually clean. You probably need to disassemble it. This is one of the many reasons bikes may be a racket, as opposed to a legitimate means of transportation here in autosuckerland.

So assuming you wish to take your used $200 bike apart for cleaning, How much do you reckon you might need to spend on the tools required for bike disassembly? More than $200. Much more.

What needs to happen is, Somebody needs to vend a working class bike. That's right. A bike that comes with all the tools an average numb nut needs to maintnenance his or her bike.

If this does not happen, bikes will never compete in Americanoland, the Nazi paradise.

Another spectacular ovation provided for free by Crumby.
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Uh. Hey Crumby! Is there a working class still inhabiting these parts?

Bad Karma

It’s a good thing that karma does not apply to inanimate objects like bicycles. Because if it did, Crumby would rot in Hades for all eternity or maybe come back to Earth, the home planet of many, as a Rick Perry style evil doer, liar and sissy. How pitiful would that be?

Yes. The truth is, every time one of Crumby’s crumby cars broke when Crumby didn’t have the time or money to fix said vehicle, Crumby would wind up on a bicycle for a while. But all Crumby did with those bikes ever, was ride them. Those bikes were always maintenance free. Except for a Montgomery Ward bicycle that came with a defective bottom bracket. Crumby tried to fix that one because it’s hard to ride on over to the liquor store on wobbly pedals. Goodness!

But now, Crumby is fixing to atone for his many and long lasting bicycle sins or sinfulness of omission. Yes. Crumby is fixing to start repairing and maintaining his twain bicycles as if they must last forever. Which obviously, they don’t. But never mind that. They might theoretically need to last a while, maybe.

Today, at the grocery store, Crumby took a hard look at all the bikes locked up on the racks. Besides Crumby’s Red Blade, there were four other bikes. But only Crumby’s bike was covered in crud. The other four bikes were clean as a whistle; jaunty as Mary the Virgin faunching about on the shores of Galilee, pre-baby Hayseus.

So that’s it. The final or last omen or ovate has been received. Time to clean up the bikes. Mercy!