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Let’s Review 27: Batman Edition

We Have A New Prime Number, And It’s 23 Million Digits Long But you can make it shorter by counting by twos.

Witches’ tits not immune. Hospitals Across Maine Report Epidemic of Chipped Nipples – New Maine News aka “hyperextreme nipple glaciation”

Convicted felon announces campaign for governor in Democratic state – sounds about right

Isn’t there ONE person in this parade who stops and asks, “what the hell are we doing?”

“The problem with believing that there’s a direction to history is that you’re always surprised to find yourself back at the start.”

Nike’s “Just Do It” slogan was inspired by the last words of a murderer awaiting execution

Fresh fish? Just watch: Fried fish comes alive in front of Chinese diners

Mexican psychic predicts no US-North Korea nuclear war

Parasites who pose as regular people or poor unprivileged abound. White guilt, female narcissism, male conformism—the Current Year is a clusterfuck of problems fostering endless divisions and confusions. – Return Of Kings

Harley-Davidson, Before and After the Knucklehead

Chris Strider on Twitter:  This Dog figures out how to carry his sled up the hill in order to sled for hours & hours “

Comments on this entry are closed.

  • Patvann January 6, 2018, 1:31 PM

    I noticed first the lack of smiles at the “parade”….That told me everything I needed to know.

  • PA Cat January 6, 2018, 4:34 PM

    The participants in that “parade” should check their white privilege– no readily visible faces of color in that lineup. On the other hand, it’s clearly a BLM (Black Leather Matters) march, so it’s sufficiently PC.

  • Rob De Witt January 6, 2018, 6:03 PM

    The bit about the “buttons” lacking on social media missed, of course, the most obvious one:

    “That’s ‘Its,’ You Moron.”

  • ghostsniper January 7, 2018, 4:23 AM

    About them Harley’s.
    In the article the 5th paragraph in is the most important.

    I bought a Harley, of sorts, back in 1974 and I was 19 at the time.
    Hanging around a marina waiting for them to finish up welding a lower unit for an Evinrude inboard/outboard engine my dad and I were rebuilding I spotted a cardboard box in a fenced in area in the back lot. Inspection showed it to contain Harley parts and a frame close by. I asked the owner about it and he said $500 and I could take it home. I went to the house and told my dad and he got all wobbly and handed me 5 crisp C-notes from his wallet. Back at the house we found the box, and 3 other boxes that went with it, contained parts from 3 old Harley’s with most of the parts going to a 49 Knucklehead. So that’s what we built. Took about 3 months from boxes to running but still had a ways to go.

    With my dad next to me on his 69 Harley and me driving the 49 we headed down Gladiolus Blvd to the state inspection station to get it inspected, registered, and tagged. Going into the first curve just east of Harlem Heights the 49 locked tight at about 60 mph. If it had been the front wheel things would have gotten nasty quick but since it was the rear wheel a skid spontaneously started about the same time 20 mph were knocked off causing me to slide up onto the tank and losing my balance. The sides of the road curved down steeply and that’s where I ended up, at the bottom of the easement with both me and the bike tore up. Leaving the 49 there I rode home with my dad and got patched up then we took the truck back and picked it up and brought it home.

    Under close inspection we found the engine had seized. We had spent I don’t know how many hours putting that engine together the right way. A machine shop was commissioned to blueprint the crankshaft, plane the block, barrels and heads, port and relieve the valves, etc. The barrels were bored .30 over and new pistons and wrist pins were installed. It ran really good. As we tried to determine what went wrong. I discovered that in the bottom of the external oil tank was a small pipe leading to a pipe that fed the engine. In the bottom of that tank was a double edged razor blade that I presumed a previous owner had used to scrape off a gasket and it had fallen it. The slot in the razor blade was where the oil flowed through and in it’s limited quantity it had quickly caused the engine to heat up, swell, and seize. As this happened very quickly and was shut down very quickly the damage was minimal. No galling of the piston skirts or any of that stuff. All gaskets were removed with close attention spent on gasket removing tools and materials, and replaced and several trips around the block after assembly showed everything was alright. We got the thing registered.

    After a few days of continuous rain my dad and I set out for a semi-long haul on his 69 and my 49 to see what we could see. Knowing that this thing was a beast of over 100 hp and because of it’s 2 alternating cylinders (thump, thump, thump, thump) and under the advice of a friend I installed “titty grips” that allowed the hands to sort of “hover” over the surface of the grips affording a little bit of comfort. We headed to Fort Lauderdale by way of Alligator Alley, that gave a long expanse of flat and straight pavement for me to get intimate with the 49. From Fort Myers to Fort Lauderdale took about an hour and a half and an hour into it I was tired of it but we continued non-stop. In FL we stopped, parked at a greasy spoon and went inside for some grub.

    My entire body was vibrating, a strange sensation. My hands belonged to someone else. I had biker legs when I first got off as usual but this time was diff. All of my hairs was standing on end and had lives of their own. All of this was unnerving and disappointing. My dad had some biker legs too and some slight vibration but not nearly as bad as I. With the 13 to 1 compression ratio, new Tillotson carb that gulped buckets, the extended cam and everything else, we had built a machine that was only good for short distances. This was not a long distance hauler.

    We got back home and I considered what to do with this thing. I didn’t want it. I wasn’t a racer and didn’t want a bike I couldn’t just jump on and ride anytime I wanted to. I failed to mention, the frame that came with this thing was a custom hard tail (no suspension) and had a 30 degree raked springer fork system. The hardtail made for a very harsh ride and the springer was very difficult at slow speeds. This thing was dangerous, unnecessarily so. I decided to get rid of it, but to whom?

    I put an ad in the paper (remember them days?) and a couple low-ballers were disappointing as I had over $1200 in it. After a few weeks my brother told me about a friend of a friend that wanted to build a drag bike and he was thinking about using a Kawasaki 750 triple he had blow up earlier in the year. Turned out the guy was intrigued by Harley’s and he came over and bought it for the $1500 I was wanting. He made that dragbike and my brother even got a chance to take it down the street one time. It was now over 200 hp and he said it was the fastest thing he ever drove, scary fast. He twisted the grip and the first thing that happened, after the front end went straight up in the air (wheelie bar had not been installed yet), was his goggles flew off and when he looked down at the gauges through tear flooded eyes at the speedometer that said 73mph and he was still in 1st gear with 3 more to go. He immediately backed all the way off and the negative g’s slammed his mug into the tank knocking out 2 teefs. ouch

    I rode my dad’s Harley a few times after that and the experience was pleasurable, I guess, but once you’ve seen the harsh part of something it’s hard to ignore after the fact. I couldn’t get over the notion that 2 cylinder engines will never be as comfortable to ride as 4 inline engines. It’s a mechanical fact. Even the opposed 2 cylinders (BMX) had a certain “waddle” about them. Aside from my 1970 Camaro my main ride was a 1972 Honda 750, stock, and it was a breeze to ride. I took it across the alley many times and didn’t suffer the handicapping that occurred on that 49. And I’ve harbored a distaste for Harley’s ever since. I can appreciate the long term engineering and history in the things but I also believe a lot of the fan fare is in the revving of the engine at the stoplights. As far as use-ability, comfort, endurance, and reliance, Harley’s lost that race to the rice burners way back in the late 60’s.

  • Bill in Tennessee January 7, 2018, 6:28 AM

    About the “gay” parade….if they’re so damned gay, why isn’t anyone smiling? I think the children are asking themselves, “Who the HELL got me into this parade, anyway? Can’t wait ’til I’m 18 and can get out of my sick family!”

  • Snakepit Kansas January 7, 2018, 1:38 PM

    I love reading your stuff. With some frowning but no overt disapproval from my Dad, I bought a slightly used ’82 Sportster when I was 19. My Dad has a Matchless 650 when he was in the USAF back in the ’50’s, so he liked motorcycles and once I had this thing, he warmed up to the idea and sure didn’t mind riding it also. He has some good stories about riding from TX to WVA on the Matchless, then being so worn out from the ride that he had the bike shipped back on a train, to his base. He used to wrench on B47s.

    Like your ’49, the Sporty was not meant for long trips. I rode down to a motorcycle rally at the great sand dunes of Waynoka OK (Little Sahara) in my younger days and by the time I got back I had the same sensations of vibration, arm hairs standing and being fully wind burned, as you described. 300+ miles of riding made my ass numb. No mas!

    30+ years later I still have that same Sporty, but now just putt around on it. Dump some gas and a spark on those cylinders and it fires right up without hesitation, just like always. My young son as taken an interest in firearms, so all I have will be his some day. It will be the same with the ’82 Sportster.

  • Gordon January 8, 2018, 2:12 AM

    RE: that picture. Read Moira Greyland’s book The Last Closet. Her mom was bestselling SF author and her dad was the top expert on rare coins. And both were serious perverts, living in Berkeley, where perversion is normal. Read about the lifestyle she endured when they weren’t molesting or raping her. In Berkeley, taking the kids to that parade is considered model parenting. I’m not kidding.

    The amazing thing is that Moira isn’t really bitter. Her writing is witty. She could make a living sewing ball gowns, running an opera company, or singing and playing the concert harp. But she also says that gay IS the problem. It’s a hell of a book.

  • Casey Klahn January 8, 2018, 6:42 AM

    Gordon, that’s a good reference, if I ever need it. I don’t live in Seattle, anymore, praise God, but I did have an observation. Take away just the Gay shit, and make a study of the behavior of these people. The personalities alone are what sinks that ship.

    Don’t get me wrong; some of the gaypeople I now know are fine individuals, but in the professional setting. Not at all like the time I inadvertently went into the gayresteraunt on Capitol Hill, and found the head waiter wearing knee pads (true story).

    I made a beeline for the door.