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Journals of an Insane Genius -- November 1996

The work day ended like most, I felt comfortable with the knowledge that I had helped keep the nation secure so that hillbillies in Kentucky could download pornographic materials from the internet. Little did I suspect that my most difficult challenge of the day was yet to come.

As I leaned into the ninety degree turn at the three quarter mile mark of my daily eight mile ride I could feel the warm southwest air blowing through my flowing golden locks. It was good to notice these things.

There was some loose sand at the turn, possibly placed there by an agent of some hostile foreign government in a deliberate act of sabotage, or else the wind blew it there. With catlike grace I shifted my weight slightly and successfully navigated around the treacherous hazard and continued towards the East Gate.

As I approached the guard gate I sensed more than saw the oncoming traffic. By sheer force of will I brought the speeding juggernaut that my bicycle had become to a stop. Slipping into the traffic stream at the gate is difficult under ideal conditions, rush hour is not considered ideal by any stretch of the imagination. Suddenly, the smallest of gaps appeared. I knew the time had come to act. Seizing the opportunity I shot into the gap, thighs as huge as Christmas hams pistoning up and down on the pedals.

Looming at the bottom of the hill was the traffic light. I was now two miles into the ride, but never more vulnerable. The light was green, but would it stay that way? Summoning the courage that will be legend to future generations I flew into the intersection with the war cry of my northern tribe sending waves of fear through the bewildered motorists.

The worst was over. Now all that lay between me and my destination was five miles of straight, paved road. Nothing could stop me now. I had achieved that rare state of consciousness where the bicycle becomes an extension of the body, and the body is an extension of the mind.

In this heightened state of awareness I realized that it was possible to bring about world peace, end hunger, shelter the homeless, lower the price of gasoline, and still make a profit. In my mind's eye I could see the plan neatly outlined in a clear, plastic binder. As I reached for the binder, I noticed that my arms were moving to the left while the binder remained where it was. Something was wrong.

My mind came crashing back into my body sounding an alarm of imminent danger. Immediately I assessed the situation. Somehow the handlebars were no longer in line with the front tire. Furthermore, moving them had no effect on the direction the bicycle traveled. Clearly this was a crisis situation.

It is said that the Chinese symbol for crisis consists of two symbols, one for danger, the other for opportunity. Seizing upon this thought, I knew that not only was I in danger of drifting out into traffic, but that I also had the opportunity to make a fool out of myself as well.

In all of known history, one hundred men have been in the same situation as I was then. One hundred men tried to bring the runaway bicycle under control while still looking cool.

One hundred men tried...
One hundred men died.


To Be Continued...

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