China, China, by Zhu Wei

The goal of this post is to write erudite agate type that is too small to be read, too arcane to be conceived, and too bogus to be believed, in short this is another one of my daily diatribes. [Cue a bombastic fanfare that sounds like god-awful-threnody.] As I strive to craft today’s offering, plucking only letters of note from the ether, I have yet to derive the ambit of this post. Will it be about bicycling? Will it be political? Will it be yet another exposition dump of what I did today? I can tell you with ontological certainty that at this point, I do not know. Moving forward, I will attempt to dance between the rain drops and short of a force majeure, serve up my daily ration of blather. With no clear focus for this post, I’ll risk combining multiple themes, with the resultant cross causidious contamination. I give you my post, a link dump:

• The title for this post is derived from a Salon article, “Are urban bicyclists just elite snobs?”, by Will Doig. It actually comes from a NY Times article, “‘I Was A Teenage Cyclist,’ or How Anti-Bike-Lane Arguments Echo the Tea Party”, by Adam Sternbergh, which is linked to in the afore mentioned Salon article. This aggregate link deals with urban cycling in general and NYC in particular. Doig’s article tries to be even-handed, while Sternbergh’s is decidedly partisan. Doig’s frames the question well, while Sternbergh’s is a lot of fun to read. Before reading Sternbergh’s one should probably peruse The New Yorker’s John Cassidy’s blog post, “Battle of the Bike Lanes”, or not.
• Everyday readers might have noticed that there are enough 50¢ words in the opening paragraph to buy a Starbuck’s latté or two. These words were garnered during my weekday/workday lunchtime walks. I use to do these walks with Barbara, my walking buddy, but she up and retired on me this summer. It has taken a while, but I have finally found a replacement for her. Like much in modern American industry, Barbara’s “job” has now been automated. I now walk alone, except for my ear buds, iPhone and Slate’s podcasts. My favorite is the Cultural Gabfest; this is where the vocabulary comes from. Next up is the Political Gabfest, more on this in the next bullet. I listen to some of the others, sports, manners and film, but only after I’ve exhausted the first two.
• “The Cain Mutiny Gabfest” was today’s lunchtime walking fare. The title segment savaged the Republican presidential field. I’ll now riff on what I heard. The Cain Train has derailed, even more spectacularly than the train in “Super 8”. How many more shopping days until the Gingrich who stole Xmas arrives? [Please note the lack of Christ; Newt is no holiday, more of an amphibian really, slimy.] I love the way Mitt [Not] Romney explains his opposition to Obamney Care. Ron Paul, RuPaul, I get then confused, one is a transvestite and one is another Texas travesty.

Enough of this cocktail chatter, good night!