Dual Purpose, Dual Personalities Sporting Duality With Motorcycle Therapy & Entertainment


Ride Along Reader’s Guide

20121127-065258.jpg We are totally ripping this off from Uma’s post “Some Things Are Just Crazy By Nature” at calculatedmess………our link button is all Zen today.

Howdy Myst,                 (Edited Version Available 2020)

Here at our 30th post we have decided to make things a little bit easier for our readers, just not too easy.

The way we see it our readers will for the most part be in 3 zones:

Zone One You will benefit most by reading this first, our decision to drop this in after 30 posts just shows what Bastards we are.

Zone Two You don’t mind struggling along with stuff in the beginning, but some where around ten (SWAT) posts in you are beginning to get annoyed, read on – you have earned it.

Zone Three You have been thinking…….these guys are nuts / have balls / regularly lose most instruction manuals and are professional fumblers of life – you get us (Skip This Post).

For simplicity’s sake I (singular) will do the rest of the Guide.

RidicuRyder is a handle I came up with for a Motorcycle Travel Blog that started in July of 2012 – I figured any serious riders would write me off as ridiculous because I mostly ride in shorts, tee shirts and sandals. The machines whizzing along in computer circuitry auto replied back: Hey Ridicu……… Suddenly I had an extra adventurer along for the ride.

Ridicu is that side of me (fictionalized as another personality) that is always getting me in shit, distracting me from completing most projects and I have exerted a tremendous amount of energy muzzling him over the years (he has squeaked out regularly regardless). The fucking crazy thing is I really like the guy……..he just gets kinda carried away (probably because I almost never let him loose) and spins up into a Maniac whenever he gets the chance (Mmmm…..Wabbit)

Kimmie Lou Rawls/Reed has initials K-L-R . The Kawasaki KLR 650 is the World’s WorkHorse mid sized motorcycle, Kawasaki even makes a diesel version of the bike for Military applications. The KLR is a “Thumper” which means a very large single cylinder is “thumping” you along. A lot of larger or faster bikes have Twin cylinders or 4 cylinder power plants – they are higher maintenance, shinier, more expensive and very cool in their own ways.

Kimmie Lou takes us places without a lot of fuss……..she can ride highways all day long at freeway speeds or tumble along gravel roads and trails because she is a Dual Sport Motorcycle (On Road / Off Road).

Having a Dual Purpose Bike with a Dual Personality Rider (at least for entertainment purposes) just snowballed and what started out as a Goofy Motorcycle Blog eventually became less Moto (Machine) and more Goof. Several Motorcycle references early on stump a lot of readers (I was focusing more on Motorcyclists as readers). We talk to each other, our Motorcycle (Kimmie Lou) and various animals and in-animates along the ride:

– Our Helmet – airbrushed Tasmanian Devil (may fetch a little money for us some day).
– Saddlebags made by Ortleib – “O” as in Righty O (right bag) and Lefty O (left bag). They carry our heavier gear down low and seem to have distinct viewpoints along political lines (bickering can be entertaining up to a point).
– Mr Fandango is our small Orange Bag sitting on the fuel tank, very sturdy and waterproof for our iPad and Smart Phone (also minor characters in our saga). We do a few typical Motorcycle Journalist things like “Gear Reviews” and “Ride Reports” Mr Fandango in a gear review early on spring boarded us beyond reason rather abruptly.
– Animals and Birds start popping up to expand the story, a Bandit Pelican steals Kimmie Lou’s Front Disc Lock (thieves can’t roll bike away) which is Orange and is therefore called L’Orange. Skunks (Albino / Odorless, but Bitchy), Geese and other creatures creep in – some with very little dialog.
– Cars like Victoria and Veronica Vette and Margarita VW Beetle make appearances early on, later we encounter the Christ Striker – shape shifting Bunny / Alpaca / Horse named Diabolical, Grey and Shadow respectively who cruise around in Billie Holiday Blue – another VW Beetle. The human characters are somewhat based on people we have encountered, let’s hope they don’t recognize themselves here.

Plagiarism is almost a theme in the Blog, I unabashedly lay down boiler plate lingo…….I haven’t seen this summer’s blockbuster “Spiderman” remake/rework because it seems Tobey Maguire still only shaves a few times a month. I’m getting warmed up, some thing original may trickle out eventually. Copywriting will be skipped for the blog, we have however, begun to rework the purchasing arrangements for the Tasmanian.

We also have an incorrect way of tagging our posts which may provide a few clues or laughs for what is going on.The story has weirded up gradually, many of you may drop out and thanks in advance for peeking in……..if you think this might be someone else’s cup of tea, send them over.

End Times, Species Evolution and Our Megalomaniac have begun taking us further and further afield in our posts, what can I say……………Ridicu’s on holiday.


Smother The Wind With Dust

20121125-121323.jpg Motorcycle Adventuring 101: Ask to camp in a Farmer’s Field. A little ways off to the right we are presently enjoying a cup of coffee on the Farmhouse Veranda. They want to feed us, but we decline (no Daughters). Here you all get that rare glimpse of Our Megalomaniac – his shadow isn’t half as funny as he is. We are a little baffled that he has bothered to figure out our Samsung Galaxy S3 features……..he is really not all that into technology.

Howdy Myst,                 (Edited Version Available 2020)

Naturally I have had to muzzle Ridicu with the Farm Folk…….he did manage to ask if Colonel Saunders was a relative, just as we were saying goodbyes (Crickets). The spot where Our Megalomaniac was just standing is shimmering a little………nobody but us ever sees him, the Samsung is hung inside the tent pocket where we left him – he’s still shaking a bit. Kimmie Lou says “that Farmer’s Daughter looks just like Meg Ryan.” We turn back towards the Farmhouse wondering if we should have stayed for breakfast, maybe they just pretended not to have a Daughter because she has this thing for Bikers………they may have her locked in the storm shelter until we leave.

It seems polite to hurry our pack-up so that poor Meg can get unshackled and get out and enjoy her day in Kansas……probably a good afternoon for Tornadoes according to The Tasmanian. The Dawn didn’t even whisper this morning and the air is perfectly still. “This Drought has cracked a lot of spirits around here.” We survey the landscape, crops have withered in the fields for miles……..“ah death, is there anything sweeter?” (Ridicu likes to act all edgy when he knows Our Megalomaniac is in town). “She certainly was” says Kimmie Lou, then adds “what role did you like her best in?” “Who?” “Meg Ryan” replies Kimmie Lou. We discuss various stages of Meg’s career we all loved In The Cut………her wanton surrender to Darkness……..nobody could have done it better.

Kimmie Lou then casually tosses” yeah, but the Dead Chick was more of a “Top Gun” Meg……..all Wild Youth Greek Tragedyish with some awkward giggling feta crumbled in.” “What Dead Chick?” Kimmie Lou just looks at us calmly for a few seconds…….she wants us to work for it. “The Dead Chick that died here last year.” “The Dead Chick than just wandered over and snapped that picture.” “Kimmie Lou, the picture was shot by Our Megalomaniac, not by some dead farm girl who looks like Meg………………………………”(did we mention how funny he is?)

20121125-143006.jpg “And she was sitting in this field behind me with the iPad for a couple of hours just before Dawn……I really had to go third eye out my mirrors, but I think I saw her typing.”

Our Megalomaniac starts raising the Dead and we know it ain’t gonna be no stinking run of the mill Death Struggle……….looks like we are in for Straight-Up Evolution (is there any other kind?) or Spirit-Shredding Devolution……….nothing in-between (but fun either way). “What!” “She was Typing!”

We are getting breakfast about ninety minutes later and Ridicu is showing me all kinds of stuff about our iPad’s interface with WordPress (he’s good at pushing buttons). I can post stuff and surf content, but that’s about it. I open this tab called Notifications and realize that he and Our Megalomaniac have been corresponding……….with Bloggers! Our eyes cross briefly, “you think this is pretty funny huh?” I’m not laughing……..“Relax – we pretended to be you a bunch of times.”

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20121114-194013.jpg Our stop in St Louis has confirmed what we have always suspected about the Plains……….Aliens are beaming in here. We watched a couple land with a flash onto the Arch then tracked them to a nearby power station. The St Louis Arch is a Monument, Attraction & Gateway……. does it signify a Million things to different beings? Yes, and then some. People argue about it even being an Arch……..perhaps it has been a huge boondoggle, another weak attempt by humans to erect a stairway to heaven. We admire it for it’s precise imprecision, for knowing exactly where it stands yet doing whatever the fuck it feels like doing. Archie You Big Beautiful Crooked Bastard.

Howdy Myst,                 (Edited Version Available 2020)

Frank and Hank roared off ahead of us this morning headed for Denver, we had a good time hanging with them and their friends. Hank was kinda reflective as we were loading the gear, we could see his wheels turning. The twinkle frequency in his eyes has changed……..he will wake up to his Indivisibility soon, he may or may not let Frank in on it. They seem to have a nice life going on this round, Hank may let Frank remain oblivious to the big picture……knowing is usually harder. Kimmie Lou is happy to be on our own “I don’t like being pushed by other riders and machines………we seem to get in enough shit all by ourselves!”

The ride to St Louis is unremarkable until we get close and notice the Thrum, it isn’t constant here like in St Petersburg or Atlanta. Kimmie Lou keeps reminding us to check our mirrors for Truckers. We exit downtown and spot the landings on Archie. Aliens! They ricochet a distance……..we listen for what direction the Thrum is coming from. Remember when we thought it might be a faulty transformer in St Pete’s……..the sound had sort of an energy about it?

20121115-061541.jpg This Creepy Old Power Building on the riverfront would totally work in a Tim Burton film and is coincidentally where Aliens are processed on arrival in America. We decided not to get too close as those Alien Cyclists were watching us. When Aliens aren’t riding Harley’s they usually get around by pedaling…….it helps them burn off energy in lieu of killing everyone they lay eyes on.

“Aliens come in pretty fast…….hitting power objects softens their landing, don’t ask me how they do it.” “How do they do it?” asks Kimmie Lou. When Ridicu says “don’t ask me” he is actually begging to be asked – Kimmie Lou has figured this out. Ridicu carries on for a couple a minutes describing something that sounds pretty physicsy, blended with some far fetched Ridicu angle……..it all winds up sounding sensible in an Absurdly Simple kind of way. Kimmie Lou has also learned not to challenge any of Ridicu’s explanations, even when he talks about Motorcycles, she just nods and says “huh, I never thought of it that way.”

We Kick around the City some before continuing West (Yes, Yes, We Know All This Capitalizing Is A Disease). “Geez, now that we are west of the Mississippi I sorta feel like shooting someone…….what kind of waiting period does Missouri have for handgun purchases?” Kimmie Lou pumps hard on her front brake, the Tasmanian’s chin thumps onto our chest, “you Morons have a perfectly good slingshot buried in all that gear across my back and you haven’t used it once…….don’t even think about heavier weapons purchasing unless you’re going to blow your brains out!” A block drifts by in silence then she adds “sorry.” In recounting old worlds we have discussed various fine dining options for different calibers. Our favorite is the over and under 12 gauge where the upper barrel has birdshot, but just in case that doesn’t do the job the lower one has a great big slug to punch out the brain stem or at least massively sever one hemisphere’s blood supply……it’s nice to have the back up in case something slips.

20121117-152718.jpg Righty O (our right Ortlieb saddlebag) insisted on getting his picture taken in front of Right Field at Busch Stadium. Kimmie Lou “I don’t care if you are a Slingshot Toting Republican Righty O……..we are all carrying baggage.”

“How many Aliens have arrived already?” asks Kimmie Lou. “It’s hard to say, but they have been among us for Centuries and breed like Bunnies so it is entirely possible they already outnumber us.” “The thing about this whole End of the World thing is that speculating the how and why can spin you down into a great big pit of agony. Getting all twisted up about it is natural, but everyone should maintain some humor about it all. Maybe we don’t evolve in this world or the next, but eventually we figure it out.” “How do you know?” asks Kimmie Lou. “Think of it this way Kimmie Lou: Time is only really handy for measuring Goals………and Goals are only useful for those who have forgotten that they already have (or are a part of) Everything.”



20121111-101428.jpg We have run into some pretty unbelievable characters on the trip so far, but everyone knows these guys. Kimmie Lou “my idea was to call this Blog Frankenpunks.”

Howdy Myst,                  (Edited Version Available 2020)

We unstrap the bucket of bones at a fuel stop in Ferdinand, Indiana. Kimmie Lou’s  odometer reads 8 7/8, we almost didn’t have to look. Lizardu’s effect is still a swirl……..we sense a message, but it hasn’t fully formed yet (Kimmie Lou says she knows, but is waiting for us to figure it out on our own). From here she feels pretty strongly about proceeding West on I 64, but she is also being drawn South down Highway 162 to a place called Santa Claus. Most people are no longer processing Santa as real……everyone has settled for the myth, but the fucker is real – it’s just that we have all been on the naughty list for soooooo looooong – nobody’s seen him in like……..forever!

Next door is a Wendy’s…….. Baconator here we come. We park beside two Platinum Frankenstein Tricycle Harleys. Below is an example of one, substituted here to shroud the identities of the guys we came across.

20121111-125003.jpg This Harley is quite different from what the Brothers were on………we just figure it will help keep our Alien Readers interested. Frankenstein is an outfit outta Pleasanton, Kansas who sell bolt-up kits to covert your bike into a trike (Kimmie Lou says it just isn’t natural).

The two riders have a corner table where they can keep an eye on the bikes, we nod to them and one waves us over. As we slide into the booth it hits Ridicu right away (Holy shit! It’s those kooky twins…….from 497, remember?) I don’t remember, but something is vaguely familiar about these guys. “Hiya friend, I’m Frank and this is my brother Hank.” We shake hands, “when we were kids we used to run around on Kawasaki 125s that were almost as green as yours out there” says Hank. Folks on the plains are not animated or playful like Southern Folk…….I have begun to muzzle Ridicu slightly, “yeah, good old Kawasaki Green, did you grow up around here?” Just before biting back into some Spicy Chicken Hank says “Utah.” Their vibe isn’t exactly Mormon, but it’s close. Frank carries on for Hank, ” we have been here in Ferdinand since 1990, over at the Monastery.”

It’s just like Mistress Luscious Lasagna in the Hovercraft Caddy all over again, these two start pouring out their story, when it’s over we can’t decide which tale is weirder. These guys were Sisters of Saint Benedict until about 7 years ago when they both began doubting their devotion as Nuns. Not only that…….they just couldn’t carry on as females anymore! (C’mon you remember these gals, they ran that Teen Shooting Center in Austin……..they used to go on and on about straightening out society by having everyone pack a sidearm – that Frontier Justice rap, remember!) It takes a few more seconds to picture them without their wispy beards. “Wow! Francis and Henrietta…….really – it’s you?” Frank and Hank rear up a bit, then Hank says, “we never told you our old names, how’d you know.” “Well, they’re the feminine versions of Frank and Hank right?” Ridicu can really come through in a pinch sometimes.

Everybody awakens to their Indivisibility with different steps, some people just keep reworking their Individuality and don’t get around to their Indivisible – ever. Some sense both and glide between Individuality and Indivisibility easily, we have gone through dozens of worlds where we just didn’t grasp TWIW until the final chapter. Everybody is an Indivisible…….only you can’t slam it into them if they are still struggling with their Individual – it’s just not done. Our fascination with them is starting to show, Frank asks, “why are you looking at us like that?” Again, Ridicu covers nicely, “I kinda feel like two people myself sometimes and well………c’mon for Christ’s sakes – you’re Twin Transgender Biker-Nuns!” Everyone laughs for a stretch, “I mean I know you guys are now Maintenance and Groundskeeper staff, but you are still Nuns right?” “Yeah, we just can’t hit the showers with our sisters anymore” says Hank who goes on to explain how Mother Superior thinks masculinity is a “cross they must bear.”

There is a lot more laughter discussing life at the Monastery until Frank asks, “so which way are you headed?” Ridicu has been very well behaved so far……..if we start traveling with these guys, will he be able to keep it up? “West” and then add “but I may check out Santa Claus first” thinking this might give us the wiggle room we need to drift away from these two. “Screw Santa Claus!” bellows Hank (a few people nearby actually turn in their seats and look). “Yeah” adds Frank, “it’s a real shit hole……..ride with us – we are gonna hit a party at a friend’s tonight in Grayville, you can crash there too.” “Tomorrow we’ll be hauling ass to Denver, we wanna make the Iron Butt rally there this weekend, says Hank. “I don’t push Kimmie Lou all that hard, we probably couldn’t keep up with you on the freeway.” Frank and Hank smile, “wanna know what we call our bikes? asks Hank. “Only you can’t tell anyone” adds Frank.

It is agreed that Satan and Lucifer will be kept under 80 mph (130kph) until Grayville, tomorrow we will poke along while the trikes blast through to Denver. These Iron Butt guys are kinda great…….they have this thing called the 50cc which means you ride coast to coast in 50 hours or less, the 100ccc means you do a 50cc and then turn around and go back again in less than 50 hours – sick right! “If you assholes think sport bikes are so great, then go ahead and get one!” says Kimmie Lou as we hop back onto I 64 behind the Trikes. “Aw c’mon Kimmie Lou, you know you are far and away the best machine we ever had!” We keep making cuddly talk with Kimmie Lou until she doesn’t want to hear anymore, the Nuns are clipping along at 80 (130 kph) and cranking up to 90 (145 kph) regularly as they pass trucks. Kimmie Lou is a big single cylinder “Thumper”……..we rarely push her past 80 and the way we are loaded on this trip – 65 or 70 (110-120 kph) has been our average.

These guys don’t seem to be checking their mirrors as we drop back, eventually they are just specks on the horizon and man is that sky getting black. We watch the clouds for a few minutes and thankfully it appears the system is staying North of us, we notice an old beat up pick up with Kansas plates pulled over under an overpass ahead. As we rode by we saw the dude standing at the front of the truck looking North West at the storm system………this should have been our first clue, instead “probably just extra cautious being from Kansas and all.” We aren’t worried – it still looks like it is going to stay to the North of us……..then around a half mile later the road makes a long graceful turn and points North West and it appears to go straight for quite a while like this. Fuck.

With the sky getting blacker by the second we pull over and get into our rain gear, RidicuRyder has Stupidity down to a Science so we decide to press on – maybe we can make an exit before the worst of it – turning back was considered briefly, but scored low on the Adventure Riding Satisfaction & Entertainment Survey (ARSES) Ridicu keeps quoting at moments like these. As it starts to spit we see the sign for the Poseyville exit – Yeah Baby! Thirty Nine seconds later we are getting pelted pretty good and gusts around 50 mph (80 kph) are filing in. We would slow down but whatever is coming behind us won’t see us and we are pretty sure our momentum is keeping us from being blown off the road or worse – into the left lane. Kimmie Lou is banking harder than she did around turns on the Dragon……we are going straight but almost dragging a foot peg. When it occurs to us that we should have packed a snorkel a sanity override lever is flipped and we decide to turn hard right so that when we crash it will be a good distance off the road where we are less likely to be run over by a semi.

Kimmie Lou won’t turn…….we are being blown into the left lane and we are about to ease up on the steering slightly so we can tumble into the median when the wind drops off a little. Away we turn to the right, we are expecting a bumpity bounce crash into the grass and scrub bordering the freeway. The throttle has been rolled off for the impact that doesn’t come, then a break in the rain…….holy shit we are on the off ramp! Now the challenge is to keep Kimmie Lou upright, our speed has dropped considerably and the wind has us all over the place. A lightening flash gives us a glimpse of a large structure across the freeway and that nothing nearby is moving. Kimmie Lou settles down as we roll on a little throttle – ignoring the stop sign – we left turn onto the overpass with a little speed. Heading downwind is swift, we know the wind will feel like a sledge hammer again when we turn for the barn.

What looked like a barn is actually the Red Wagon Restaurant. We pull right into the patio under a large veranda, “do I look like a fucking submarine Morons!” sputters Kimmie Lou. We don’t say anything, this was worse than Splatlanta. Kimmie Lou is the first to break the silence with a chuckle, then I snort and Ridicu takes it away laughing like a hyena.“How the Hell did we make it through that alive?” Another lightening flash……….there – twenty feet away are Lucifer and Satan parked so close together they looked like a sedan.

Inside the restaurant Hank jumps up and gives us a hug, both he and Frank have been clutching their rosaries. Frank is helping us out of our rain gear, “didn’t you see us waving you on……to go faster – I kept pointing at the storm, you just started slowing down.” “Well, we’re Sailors……we’re used to being at sea in rough weather……we just figured better to slow down, put on our foul-weather gear and proceed cautiously.” “What’s with all this we shit?” asks Frank. It’s plain to see he is a little spooked, Ridicu has blown it, just like I knew he would. “Francis, Henrietta, there’s something we need to tell you……..”

A few hours later we have enjoyed a few rounds of wings and several Grapefruit & Tonics when the rain starts sounding like raindrops on the tin roof and not like chains, ball bearings, 45 gallon drums and Winnebagos are being dropped on it. The twins are sucking back their 5th or 6th Singapore Slings while sitting beside each other reading our Blog off the iPad (getting a little liquored up isn’t as tricky when you ride a trike). “So you guys are Megalomaniacs?” asks Frank. “Our therapist says we lack certain necessary Narcissistic markers and that Megalomania has no DSM code making it impossible to bill for.” Completely blank looks……..“We prefer to think of ourselves as End of the World Enthusiasts.” They both smile and look at each other, then back at us, “yeah” says Hank, “so are we!”

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Level Lipped, Lightly Freckled Lizardu

20121103-224055.jpg Corbin Kentucky, where it all began……those secret 11 herbs and spices perfected by Colonel Saunders really should be enjoyed on the open road. Mount a bucket behind your windshield and enjoy that Original Recipe Chicken on your next Kentucky ride.

Howdy Myst,                 (Edited Version Available 2020)

In any worlds, along all the universes, around whatever cosmos you find yourself in, it is always a good omen to encounter The Freckled Lizardu. Every creature has a twin, (or at least a cousin with a strong family resemblance) but not the Lizardu – she has no equal, yet she is every woman at the same time. We have only met the Lizardu a handful of times…….she is never surprised to see us. The Freckled Lizardu comes along to strum the planet’s feminine vibe every few dozen rounds, whenever the species gets close to evolving…….Lizardu drops by. She can either produce a few variable notes (when she is lightly freckled) or clash against the life rhythm that happens to be playing at last call (when she is heavily freckled). We find each melody interesting, whatever stirs feminine juice livens up the species. The Lizardu injects but doesn’t dominate, the ripple she produces through the planet’s females may wither or resonate…….the women decide – ultimately it is up to women to evolve the species, sometimes they are not in the mood.

We enter the original Saunders cafe and head straight for the museum displays, we hardly glance the counter staff working the modern store to our left. The museum seems sparse at first, but then, after reading about Harland Saunders we see why……… simple man, simple plan. Many might now argue that the Father of Fast Food Franchising should not be heralded as a Revolutionary Hero in modern cuisine. Whether you see Colonel Saunders as a Pioneer or the Nutritional Anti-Christ we here at RidicuRyder regard him as necessary. Would cardiac research have come as far as it has without Mon Colonel? We doubt the trend towards organic, sustainable farming would be as relevant in a world without quadruple winged, two headed, steroid fed mutant chicks or your three, four and five hundred pound nieces and nephews. Can we emerge as a species without first wallowing in materialism and decadence? Controversy aside……..holy shit, this is good chicken!

It takes 10 or 12 seconds for us to notice the Lovely Latina working the counter we are in line for. Lizardu has that striking level lipped, angular jawed look that kills us, right behind lisps, lazy eyes and small breasts…….the reason level lips don’t make our top three is the effort required for full smiles can sometimes remind us of Heath Ledger in The Dark Knight. Level lipped women are fabulous when they grin, smile demurely or laugh…….just watch those huge smiles (kinda creepy……..sorry, but somebody had to tell you!). Level lips happen across the races, but for some reason Lizardu is always of Latin origin. Freckles kill us too, they can throw our whole ranking system out the window.

Somehow Lizardu never sounds Latina, we have encountered her with British, French, Swedish, Indian, Thai and New Zealand accents so far, there is nobody in line behind us and with a gorgeous Kentucky twang, she says “Howdy boys, I’ll be back with your bucket in a lick.” “No wonder the animals have been steering us here…….what “girl power” message do you suppose she’ll spin around this time?” “Dunno, but I’m starting to wonder if this round really does have potential, I thought for sure it was a notch.” “What is a notch?” asks Kimmie Lou (she has begun keeping tabs on us and jumping into our conversations even when we are indoors lately). “Sometimes everyone hangs back and lets a world collapse on its own……the species doesn’t always need a horrible ending imposed on them by some perceived external force.” Kimmie Lou has begun seeing how things can have two or more meanings, “so even though no one is really an “external” force affecting humanity as TWIW demonstrates, humans sometimes need to be left to strangle themselves in order to recognize that they really can destroy everything all on their own.” “Bingo, if you think about it – every collapsing world is a notch, some are just more visibly ripped apart from the outside than the inside.”

Lizardu brings our Bucket from the back. “Eleven secret herbs and spices?” She half smiles “yeah and a couple of other variables.” There still aren’t any new customers behind us, “what’s the idea this time?” “I’m thinking of recycling the old stop screwing assholes shtick, ” she is also putting together a three piece meal with mashed potatoes and coleslaw onto a tray for us. “the bucket is for the road.” Lizardu always starts off discussing women leveraging their sexuality for the common good, but Kimmie Lou has no idea that this is the regular primer for Lizardu’s discussion.“Everyone agrees that humanity would evolve in a couple of months if women stopped having sex with assholes, it’s just……..what about the Sluts?” Lizardu’s lips protrude slightly, “we start by not doing anymore lawyers, but eventually Sluts will ignore the program. Then we round up a few Sluts for public stoning……..not too many, just enough to send a message. The lawyers will be less inclined to prosecute anyone for crimes against Sluts because their prospects for sex are drying up. So when we expand the ban on sex with assholes in general, there will hardly be any Sluts crossing the picket line.”

We are Mmmmmming as if this seems like a good idea when Kimmie Lou interrupts, “have you considered just asking the Sluts nicely?” Lizardu smiles pretty wide – upper gums and all, but it’s not too creepy, “I have been hearing about your Kimmie Lou for a while now……..she is a different kind of machine!” Kimmie Lou carries on, “Sluts are basically just women who have little or no preconditions for having sex with guys, maybe if you asked them nicely to insert this teensy weeny little condition – that men behave in a way consistent with TWIW – before they will sleep with them..” “I’ll think about it Kimmie Lou” interrupts Lizardu, “but that would mean all kinds of women would be lining up for sex with our Balding, Fat Friends here……..unrealistic don’t you think? ”

All this talk of sex is making us hungry, we cross over to the dining room to tuck into the three piece meal when it registers……..women lining up to have sex with us? We head back to the counter like we forgot something – still no other customers for miles. Kimmie Lou has been considering things for a minute, “initially millions of women will want some RidicuRyder, (we suddenly feel exhausted) but eventually most guys will adapt to TWIW lifestyles and the imbalance will subside. Lizardu shakes her head in disbelief, “so…….no Slut killing?” Kimmie Lou chuckles, “well I don’t see anything wrong with SOME Slut killing, but let’s exterminate reasonably equal numbers of female and male Sluts – just to keep things balanced. Our chicken is 17 7/8 feet away and is calling to us seductively…….we resist because it seems important we contribute to the conversation, “recognizing yourself as part of TWIW means you pretty well love everybody – sharing your bed, aside from physical satisfaction, would be less about sexual politics and more about affectionately engaging the opposite sex as companions ” (we don’t see same sex players evolving at the same time heterosexuals do, they’ll probably wait things out…..then swoop in with a flourish later and want to take over).

Kimmie Lou pounces “so you mean you guys would set aside your ranking system…….no more preferences for women with lisps, with lazy eyes or small breasts?” We are back at our table, sitting – looking down at the golden thigh, breast and drumstick, “we could love with more variations than we currently have Kimmie Lou, maybe we could even handle a skinny chick now and then.” “And what about girls who show too much upper gum when they smile, would you guys take us out for a spin once in a while?” added Lizardu. “Of course, we’d be delighted to entertain all variations of women…….provided it’s okay wit da wife.” Lizardu laughs, then laughs some more as we demolish the thigh, “so you guys got married? Right when we are on the verge of evolution – you had to go and get hitched?” “They thought this was a notch” explains Kimmie Lou……now laughing with Lizardu. The drumstick is gone, along with our coleslaw and mashed potatoes while the girls continue cackling – “munch munch munch munch” we start laughing too, snorting out a little coleslaw onto the breast just before biting in.

20121106-202942.jpg The Colonel started Movember…….he developed the Original Recipe. Kimmie Lou “go ask Lizardu for rubber bands so you can wrap the clutch and left grip with napkins, if you’re gonna Snarffle Saunders while riding you will have to keep your greasy paws offa me.”

Luckily, Lizardu has packed our bucket with Drumsticks only, eating with only our left hand under the Tasmanian is fairly straightforward……..ironically they last us all afternoon until we are passing alongside the KFC Yum Stadium in Louisville. While traversing Kentucky we contemplate our future in a world where humanity acts together, “unlikely as it sounds it would be pretty funny if sex were put on hold till evolution happens.” “Yeah, but what if women are already running the world – ya know, quietly……behind da scenes?” asks Kimmie Lou. The bones are vibrating in the bottom of the bucket, we are heading West on I 64 along the Ohio river. The horizon has flattened out in the distance, these great plains that await us……..have always been waiting.

Before we reach Indiana a seatbelt safety sign catches our attention, we have been seeing them all afternoon. They are so simple, so straightforward.


“I think we petition the Kentucky Legislature for Mandatory KFC Consumption while traversing the state by Automobile, Motorcycle or Horse…….of course, it would have to be original recipe.” “That’s fucking brilliant Ridicu, it has been such a pleasant ride – anyone crossing this great state ought to do it authentically.” Kimmie Lou speaks a little louder, “hey guys, I don’t think you heard me back there, what if women already are running the world, ya know – just letting men think they are?” We look down, the bones continue to rattle hypnotically in the bottom of the bucket. “And it wouldn’t be difficult to enforce……..all they would have to do is paint a nice little brown Drumstick at the left hand of the seatbelt Dummy.”