Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Some things I missed.

So the last couple of weeks have been a hell ride for yours truly. I've been up to my earlobes in all things Harley-Davidson and Subaru. I've also had a couple of adventures:

1. Harley-Davidson 105th Anniversary, Milwaukee, WI.

I drove a 1992 Sportster in shifts through every blue highway, and country back road on the way to Brew Town. Along the way I ate a lunch that cost a whopping $4. Once I arrived in Milwaukee, I began consuming booze post haste.

Friday night featured the Foo Fighters concert. I'm not a fan, and they stopped serving beer at 10 pm. Lame. Buddy Wes and I took a hike and ogled the millions of motorcycles that littered the city streets. We commenced boozing back at the hotel where I saw my boss drink a pint glass full of Jim Beam. Impressive.

I was hoping for more debauchery, but the Anniversary was mostly fat people. I didn't even see any old biker lady titty. Lame. Lot's of fat women with bad skin stuffed into leather halter tops. Couldn't get a boner in a 10 mile radius of the place. Lots of "5 lbs of sugar, stuffed in a 3 lb bag" if you know what I mean. On Saturday I rode motorcycles all day, which was definitely the highlight of the trip. My favorite Harley is the Fat Bob. After riding bikes all day we went down to the lake shore to set up camp at the Bruce Springsteen concert.

The Boss was cool. I can't say I'm really a fan. I never understood the allure to be honest. His songs are REALLY long and his lyrics come off like stream of consciousness whiskey drunk that has been crying in his own sauce all night. The one thing I will say is that the guy is a fucking machine. Anyone that can play guitar, sing, roll around in the crowd, and dance with little kids for 3.5 hours is a maniac. So for that I give him kudos.

2. The RNC Convention in St. Paul and other tales of douchebagotry.

My goal for the week the fat, white people were in town was to avoid them at all costs. I never, ever go to St. Paul so that wasn't an issue. I did however have to dodge the Republican cougars that happened to stay in my fair city.

You can tell a Republican wife a mile away. They are wealthy, blonde, wear designer jeans with lots of jewelry, and they all seemingly drag around huge gunts (Vagina guts) that can't possibly be hidden by the stupid fucking cowboy hats they wear. The collective camel-toe that consumed downtown Minneapolis for a week was pretty damn awe inspiring. Entire bar stools at RNC hot spots like Bellanotte were swallowed whole by Bush. And I ain't talking about the President. Are their vaginas so huge because of the good Christian way of producing mass quantities of fat headed babies? Or is it from the regular jack-hammering they get from their Viagra stuffed steamed hams they call Republican husbands? The answer I will never know, because like the Forbidden City, I avoid Republican vag at all costs.

One other thing. I'm a flaming liberal, but I can't for the life of me understand the actions of a tiny minority of protesters that caused damage at the RNC. Seriously, if you want to fuck something up, do something a little more gratuitous than breaking a fucking window and turning over some garbage cans. I mean, the least you could have done was maim. Is it too much to ask to kill a couple people? Amateurs.

3. NaS.

Jake and I saw Nasty NaS at First Ave last week. The dude rocked it. One DJ, one mic. No bullshit. Just song after song of classic spitting without missing a beat. Fuck the haters.


lee said...

This is an informative, well-written, vagina-laden post. Outstanding.

Casey Brewer said...

It's all I got Lee. It's all I got.

Anonymous said...

Looks like you are on a street bob not a fat bob.

Casey Brewer said...

It's not me, that's Squad 19 Steve.

R. Falch said...

Please tell me you wear that much leather when you're doing this stuff...

Casey Brewer said...

Stuff? You mean chasing sunsets? Yes. Yes I do.

R. Falch said...

that's gayer than a subscription to Cat Fancy.

Anonymous said...

the problem isn't so much the leather in and of itself. it's the wall to wall, matte black, i just spanked my leathery monkey leather.

the core harley rider wears dirty jeans, fucked up boots and lack teeth from the random fights they solicit at sturgis. and if they wear a helmet, they never ever sport a gaper gap. they wear their helmet where it belongs--on their heads and avoid exposing their foreheads to wildlife, diesel exhaust and concrete curbs.

-the uncs

R. Falch said...

FACT: Wearing leather and saying your "chasing sunsets" IS gayer than a subscription to Cat Fancy.

Casey Brewer said...

Ryan, I don't think you're in a position to accuse anything of being gay.

Anonymous said...

but if you're going to write copy for harley, you'd better damn well ride one. as for leather? immerse yourself in all that shit too. add some more chrome to your bike while you're at it. you'll be a better creative. i call it "method writing."

dude, you're writing copy for harley davidson. how cool is that you lucky fucker? enjoy it while you can. how many can say they worked on the harley campaign and got to rally with the apes at harley's anniversary?

you're living the charmed life nephew and some may resent you for it.

-the uncs

p.s. to everyone: ever wonder how f'n spoiled we are? we have ready access to 4 dollar latte's and chrome dipped harleys yet we still find the audacity to complain about how bad things are. we're afforded more freedom and luxury than anyone yet we still find the time to bitch and protest about every special interest we're emotionally mired to. even the poor in this country have cars and wide screens. what's poor to us is fucking excess to most others. grow the fuck up america. we're spoiled fuckers and nothing is ever good enough. fact: america is know for its complainers.

Casey Brewer said...

I don't see many poor people in my neighborhood that have cars and flat screens. Shit, I'm watching a 13 year old TV. I understand your point, however, if this country wasn't so fucked at the present, you likely wouldn't hear as much whining. We're in a state of crisis. The hundreds of foreclosures in my neighborhood, and the dead bodies piling up abroad should attest to that.