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


Ernest Hemingway 17 7/8

20121024-231439.jpg Big Ridge State Park – according to this Half Breed Duck/Turkey “Papa” was a father to many creatures…….”every first born bird in my family has been named Ernest Hemingway for 17 7/8 generations.”

Howdy Myst,                 (Edited Version Available 2020)

Leaving the Smokies felt sort of like we were crossing a point of no return. Our original plan for 3 or 4 weeks in the Smokies and Blue Ridge was about to become a 2 – 3 month odyssey. Whatever this Devil’s Triangle turns into……..there will be consequences. The decision to go for it had gelled with an email from our Buddhist Wedding Photographer, Motorcycle – Therapist, “hey if you are headed for BC let’s meet at the Horizons Unlimited Riders Meeting in Nakusp.” BWPMT (pronounced however you like) had described these folks who did extended journeys (at times around the globe) in search of Adventure and Life Changing experiences so we replied “sure, why not…….it might be refreshing to meet people who also have slippery attachments to reality, like us.” “You dudes are in your own league where reality is concerned……..I been readin da blog – yer friggin crazy!”

BWPMT could sound pretty mainstream at times, despite his hipster outer appearance. Wedding Photography probably confines you in some terrible way that never gets discussed……..sure there are all the bridesmaids, cake and money, but do we really understand the effects of attending weddings every weekend? Also, we have always had a wariness around vegetarians – the Karma thing makes sense, but c’mon – have some beef now and again – slum it with the rest of us! The old adage about not trusting someone who doesn’t drink once in a while parallels nicely here. “Yeah, but the people who really freak us out are folks that act normal, say normal things and think normal thoughts – they all are ticking time bombs (listen to a phone tap sometime). Common arrangements like Marriage can be Death Traps if not steered around obstacles…….the Titanic was destined to sink BECAUSE it was supposed to be unsinkable (Experts). BWPMT is basically a good guy, everyone – even fringe dwellers sound standard at times (it’s natural to have these “normal fantasies” on occasion). We decide to accommodate his delusion somewhat. “Well…..we have been fictionalizing the blog some, ya know – spicing things up a bit.”

BWPMT is relieved “whew! You guys were really starting to freak me out……..so where have you been stretching the truth?” Our biggest pet peeve is when somebody wants specifics regarding the lying…….it takes the fun out of it. “Can’t you just accept the Genuine Variability in our Sincerity/Deceit Ratio? It took a few days for BWPMT to return email, “Understanding everything doesn’t really fit with Buddhist philosophy anyway, we’re supposed to just laugh about stuff sometimes……so go ahead and Blog bizarrely – it’s cheaper than traditional therapy. Also Motorcycle – Therapy isn’t about always knowing where you are going…….it’s about departing your normal life and exploring unknown places.” Blah Blah Blah, BWPMT went on like this for a couple of paragraphs, it was all well meant.

We have come to a place in our life where departing is necessary, a minimalist trek via Motorcycle was the prescription, but events have consolidated along the way and here we are – from Various Cosmic Dimensions – massaging our way along Interesting Death Struggles – Chronicling End Times Weirdly (more weird than other scenarios?) and somehow providing Therapy to our Motorcycle. Kimmie Lou has been taking this whole end of the world thing badly, most people understand getting Motorcycle Therapy out of an Adventure Trip, but because we almost never conform to regular framework……..we find ourselves also giving Motorcycle Therapy to Kimmie Lou while receiving it from her simultaneously. The departure is happening – from Reality? – from Sanity? – from Conformity? Perhaps we are simply Embracing Variability, the journey so far has been freeing, over terrain we ride on and write about.

“Wow – that’s it! Our Mission Statement for the .org can be Embracing Variability This freedom we are experiencing……what about promoting that?” “Probably too vague” said Kimmie Lou, “remember how well defined, clear, concrete goals are needed to make an organization tick?” “You are right Kimmie Lou, organizations are tightly defined to achieve their goals, but all these goals aren’t making the world a better place – aside from enriching the organizations.” “Yeah, a lot of Corporations have charitable outreach divisions that are basically just an extension of their marketing strategy.” “Also a lot of Charitable organizations are subtly trying to market some religion or practice while “functioning” for the greater good and Executives in .org organizations are regularly reaping profits in the form of whopping salaries for themselves while conducting half-assed non-profit work.”

20121027-114309.jpg Knoxville is where RidicuRyder.org solidified its vision……..disturbed and variable, but vision(s) nonetheless.

Kimmie Lou was thinking this over, we were taking a break in downtown Knoxville, “so you guys are saying that aside from the Moral Duplicity in many Non-Profit Organizations there is a broad enough variability in the way they operate to justify another Non-Profit occupying itself with Variability.” “Yeah, also the variability blends nicely with diversity which is already well established.” “Look a .org about Embracing “less organization” may not fly, but if we are going to proceed with Freedom, (including it’s obligatory doom fringe) we can’t see any other way to do it.” We knew Kimmie Lou would have trouble digesting this…….it was too open ended, Machines like order and processing with measurable results – Freedom bugs the shit out of them.

The traffic ambled by……traffic doesn’t whiz by in Tennessee, finally she said “Okay I’m in, but with one condition.” Ridicu and I crossed eyes briefly (why does it always begin falling apart right from the beginning). Kimmie Lou, you know this is about Freedom right?” “That’s why my one condition is that there be no conditions……..which includes no registration for the .org, no board members, no discernible structure to our group – whether they are drinking buddies, dinner companions or folks we haven’t met yet – everything will be variable.” Mmmmm, when a machine gets it they really get it and besides, Structure really isn’t our thing. Aside from the women, this is what interested us about Nursing, being structured at providing care, while at the same time recognizing your efforts will ultimately fail in the mechanical sense. “Sounds good to us,” we all play around calling each other CEO, Director of Operations, South Pole Division Chief and all sorts of titles for around 10 minutes, laughing the whole time.

We are setting up camp at Big Ridge State Park a few hours later when this truly odd Duck waddles over (he looked more like a short-necked Goose / Turkey, but you could tell he was mostly Duck by the way he waddled). When he introduced himself as Ernest Hemingway 17 7/8 we stopped everything and paid closer attention. “Are you telling us Hemingway fathered waterfowl ? asked Kimmie Lou. “Naw, he was just into difficult women…….he winged one of my ancestors years ago on a duck hunt. Bobby took a shotgun pellet in his left wing but rather than fold up and crash, he kept himself aloft long enough to kamikaze dive right into Ernest’s face, knocking him over. Hemingway liked the fight Bobby displayed so he took him home and Nursed him back to health, they got to be friends and before Bobby flew away he changed his name to Ernest Hemingway 7/8 (since he had already been Bobby for a while and as a Duck, he couldn’t quite see himself past Ernest as number 1)” We talked about Hemingway, Ridicu was particularly interested in his Manic Depression. “Do people crank up into Megalomania when they get Manic?” asked Kimmie Lou. “Sometimes,” replied Ernest, “today people refer to it as Bipolar Disease.” That’s so two-dimensional, wouldn’t it be better to say Multipolar with well defined North and South Poles?”

We had a simple supper laid out, Tuna with Montreal Steak Spice and Lemon Juice in Whole Wheat Pita (we made these tiny little wraps for Ernest). Ernest gobbled and swallowed tilting his head back like a Pelican……..he noticed us watching him – he knew we knew and we knew he knew. “So where are we headed from here?” asked Kimmie Lou. Ernest smiled in that very slight way Ducks smile, he stood tall and puffed out his chest, then in a pretty good Foghorn Leghorn voice he said, “I say, I say BOYS…….I ain’t no Chicken, now if you want Chicken – there’s Kentucky Fried Chicken.”

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20121002-102232.jpg Rafters pulling out just beyond Thunder Rock Campground at the Wildwater Ocoee River Basin Adventure Center. Kimmie Lou, ” Do I have to repeat myself? This is a vacation AWAY from boating…..NO – you can’t go River Rafting!”

Howdy Myst,                 (Edited Version Available 2020)

When you approach Thunder Rock Campground from Highway 74 – you cross the river and the bridge drops you right on the Power Station #3 doorstep…..you almost hit the building, then go around back to the Campground entrance. We set up in the rain but it was good to be camping again (just making it past lunchtime was great). The Ocoee river was low, a neighboring Camper described how the upstream power stations will go offline and let water flow in – raising the water by several feet when it was time for Kayaks and Rafts to run the river.

The next morning we heard a synthesized honk siren for a stretch before they let the water go, “you know…..the one where the nuclear reactor is about to melt down.” We decide to watch the water sports later, after a ride into Ducktown for breakfast and our snitch call.

20121002-211029.jpg Piggly Wiggly – throw away cell phones, but more importantly……pork for breakfast! Kimmie Lou, “Does this supermarket make my ass look fat?”

After days of deliberation, it has been decided…..we have to rat out the IVK. We promised to help Mistress Luscious Lasagna to find some way out of their next assignment, “not putting the Fuzz onto them man!” “Look, I don’t like it anymore than you do…..I mean if it was just a couple of isolated instances where they whacked each other’s family and that was it – then sure we could look the other way, but this network, it’s going to go on killing.” “Why does perpetual killing bother you…..our Industrial Military Complex and Global Financiers don’t seem to have a problem with it?” Kimmie Lou clears her carb, “as a machine I know I’m supposed to stay out of it, but let’s face it, if it has sound logic and is done in an orderly fashion then Machines are Pro – Kill. I hate to agree with Ryder here, but these guys can’t just keep going and going – they’re gonna get caught – so I say let’s spare Mistress Luscious Lasagna’s Karmic Debt.”

An Anonymous call to the FBI Albuquerque field office using a throw away cell phone…..what could go wrong? “Hello, we have information on 6 or 7 dozen murders, huh…..sure I’ll hold.” Somehow Ridicu talked me into letting him make the call, the thing about Ridicu is – Cops like him, don’t ask me why…..it’s weird. “Hello this is Special Agent Anger here, who am I speaking with?” “Oh, hello Agent….a…, could you spell that last name please.” “A-N-G-E-R, as in unpleasant, testy, (the guy went overboard with the thesaurus)……now who am I talking to!” “Very pleased to make your acquaintance Agent Anger, we are into anonymity – even those closest to us – only know us as Why.” “Why what? asks Anger. “Why what, why for, why where, why not – who knows?”

Generally Ridicu gets one of three responses to this kind of rap, 1. Amusement, 2. Strip Search or 3. All Out Police Brutality, but mostly it’s 1…..nutty right?” We hear laughter through the static, only it’s cold (good thing this encounter is over the phone). “Alright Mr Anonymous……I’m listening” “The other day we overheard people talking about a network where arrangements could be made to trim your family tree.” So far so good. “And you say there has been what, 80 or so of these murders?” “Our quick research is in that Ballpark.” We had surfed more than twenty six cases. “Son, there ain’t nuthin you can tell me about the IVK, I don’t already know…..fer instance – I can tell you where their weapons are stockpiled and where the money comes from – mostly Moonshine and Evangelical Racketeering Leagues.” “So then, you are close to shutting things down? We’re pretty sure there will be more hits soon.”

This phone is such a piece of crap, all we hear is more static, but then we realize it’s the agent laughing again – it’s really more two pack a day wheezing, than laughing except for his obvious joy. “Shut em down?” More wheezing. “Hell, all of us here at the Bureau and everyone at the ATF actually think these guys are onto something!” Ridicu doesn’t know what to say – which almost never happens. “Look fellas…..you are the dudes riding Kimmie Lou right?” Wow, they do know everything! “Never mind, just listen – it’s the end of the world – Serial Killers are pretty much just Canaries in the Coal Mines here, at least the IVK are addressing Population Control, hell – most of us have started to wonder why the Social Security Administration doesn’t pay for IVF……ONE EGG AT A TIME, it would save millions!

“Ahhhh…..don’t you guys take an oath to protect the public…..” More wheezing, “Public enemy #1 …..is the public! Ha ha ha ha ha – everybody’s gonna burn for this boys! EVERYBODY! We hang up and beat the phone to bits on the loading dock behind the Piggly Wiggly. “Handling murders regularly probably skews your perspective some…..after a while.” “Maybe…..or maybe it’s really just our perception that’s skewed!” “Whaddaya mean?” “I mean it’s us Blogging about this sick shit man……you ever wonder where this is gonna end, what kind of twisted crap is going to come back and haunt us?” “You did add ENTERTAINMENT into our Blog header right?” I chuckle a bit, then Ridicu guffaws…..by the time we get back to Kimmie Lou we are laughing so hard we are stumbling.

Kimmie Lou is unfazed when we relay our conversation with Agent Anger, “most machines know we should burn less fossil fuels, have cleaner emissions…..we accept that everything will end tragically one day.” “C’mon Kimmie Lou, you get over 50 miles to the gallon – you are pretty green!” German accent. “So delightfully Kawasaki green.” More laughs, “and what’s all this end of the world pissing and moaning shit…..can’t we just write our own fairy tale ending anytime we feel like it?” “Speaking of writing your own fairy tales, I looked closer at that RidicuRyder.org Blog that I can hardly remember writing.”

Kimmie Lou and Ridicu dance for a little while, trying explain good intentions strung together with a smattering of logic and 1/4 baked strudel. “Ya know, call me crazy, but I read that Blog and I think…..sure, maybe we follow this vacation with another nice retreat – to a psych ward where we are extra medicated till we are drooling into our socks!” “I was pretty unhappy with that last lobotomy…..could we get the ice pick over our left eye this time?” Kimmie Lou says “Wouldn’t it be nice if we could keep touring and writing and meeting new friends?” her voice catches a bit “and the Tasmanian has been such a good sport about it.” Ridicu and I almost always calm ourselves when she turns on the waterworks “Okay we can keep the .org, but we have to come up with something else for a Mission Statement……Promote The Acceptance Of Doom……isn’t going to go over well.

We get back to the river and watch some kayakers and a ton of rafters paddle through the rapids. The afternoon passes smoothly. Back in camp we spend the evening with other Campers, have some laughs – tell some long tales (Ridicu has some whoppers in case you haven’t noticed). At breakfast the next morning it is decided: no more doomsday shit, conspiracy theories or bizarre accounts from the tour of any kind. We’re just going to move on down the road with an everyday generic trip blog…..nuthin fancy.

20121003-233821.jpg One last shot at the Riverside before we depart. Kimmie Lou, “check out this guy wit da pink sunglasses – freakin Alien…..just when ya think you’re out, they pull you back in!”