A Letter from a Reader

I just received this letter from a reader. If Hitler didn't intimidate me, then I don't see how this pip-squeak geek is going to do it. Hear it is. What a gas.

"Dear Colonel Dickweed (Ret.),

I'm sorry if you have no friends. Why not get a poodle? Or better yet, make better friends with Pat Sajack and Vanna White. Your ranting and raving isn't going to stop hundreds of people from coming into town for the summit and getting buckwild crazy. If anything its doing just the opposite. So keep up the retarded blogging. I think its going to be a great ride. If anything you should get the bike out of the garage and come down to join us. You might even have fun."

What a dumb jerk. He thinks he can stop me from writing. Nice try! But not good enough.

Keep fighting the good fight!

5 Scientific Reasons Why The Summit Is Bad For The City

So you think I'm just some old coot with sour grapes? Baloney! Examine these cold hard facts of what goes on during the Summit:

1. Gas stations close all around town. Why? Don't blame the Saudis this time. Bike hooligans scare cars from exerting their natural right of dominating the road. Without cars on the road, what's next? Subway systems and godless Communism? No thanks mister!

2. The pregnancy rate explodes during the Summit. Great. 40 weeks later a bunch of bastard little bike hooligans are born. I've always been against abortion, but geez Louise this makes me wonder if its not so bad ever now and then...

3. Dancing on the Sabbath. Men and women gyrating their sweaty bodies until the late, sinful hours. Do I have to keep going? Isn't it obvious why this is terrible?

4. Drinking at bars. This leads to points #2 and #3. Ugh..

5. It comforts the Terrorists.


As you can see, this whole scenario is a perfect storm of dancing, singing, carousing, drinking, and general self-indulgent anarchy.

"Scorchers Terrorize Horse Carriages on Kaiser Wilhelm Street"

Below is an article I found at the Institute of Texan Cultures from the San Antonio Light, June 14th, 1897. Just reading it makes my damn prostate ache. Will there ever be peace from the oppression of bike gang summits?

"A new form of menace has begun to plague the noble city of San Antonio de Bexar. This menace is a group of street hooligans known as the "Scorchers". Their form of transportation is the newly popular bicycle. As citizens ride their horse carriages home from work, the "Scorchers" are known to lay in wait and then blaze down the cobblestone streets at maddening speeds, terrorizing the honest German citizens and horses of Kaiser Wilhelm Street.

An interview with Burgermeister Steves brought this comment, "The 'Scorchers' are a threat to our way of life, which naturally is the horse and buggy. We will do whatever it takes to preserve that way of life. They will be crushed."

Defenders of the "Scorchers" claim they are only having fun and that they have a right to the road as much as the horse. This opinion, of course, is in the minority.

Anyone who sees the Scorchers should not engage them and report them to the nearest constable."


I'm not racist because one of my best friends is a Czech, but if I were Burgermeister Steves I would have rounded up those malingering Czech hooligans and put them on their bikes and told them to ride straight into damn Medina Lake and don't stop pedalling. But I suppose that wouldn't be 'politically correct' nowadays, or whatever that mumbo jumbo is. Good Lord, my prostate is killing me.

Keep fighting the good fight!

A Note on the Bike Gang Summit of 1947

The bike gang summit of 1947. Oh that was a real lollapaloosa. I was riding with the ol’ South Alamo Scorchers at the time. Worst mistake of my life. God, if I could do it over again I would have never picked up that Schwinn Cruiser.

Gangs came from all over – the Rio Grand Valley, Houston, Fort Worth, Jourdantown. And that doesn’t include the carpetbaggers from across the country, like the Boardwalk Bombers from Atlantic City or the Bunkerhill Boys from downtown Los Angeles [1]. There were over a hundred bike gangs at least. Thousands of people cruising the streets like they owned them or something. It was decadent. It was “a roaring good time”. It was disgusting.

The SAPD came out on horseback to restore order but they were no match. For that weekend, the bike gangs ruled the city. After that the Good Government League convinced the City Council to pass some legislation to curb the problem. In a bold new interpretation of the Immigration Act of 1924, as well as the Posse Comitatus Act, the City Council was able to limit the influx of undesirable out of town bike gang elements [2]. Sadly, during the re-emergence of bike gang culture in 1967 (which I will go into later), the ACLU was able to reverse the City Council’s brave ruling.

And so that is the Summit of 1947’s legacy. Forgotten. Times of war often see an increase in bike gang culture. It’s been this way since the Spanish-American War (and the Summit of 1897), WWI (and the Summit of 1917), WWII (the Summit of 1947), Vietnam (the Summit of 1967), and now here with the Iraq War II (the Summit of 2007???)

What will it be San Antonio? Will history repeat itself?


Footnotes

[1] “The Bicycles of Wrath. How a bunch of Jordantown dirt farmers brought the Alamo City to its knees.” Tidmore, Zachariah. San Antonio Light 03/22/47.

[2] “Bicycle Gangs =Communists? The Prosecution of Bicycle Gang Culture.” Smith, Lawrence. University of Texas Press. Austin, 1961.

Why I’m Against this Bicycle Gang Summit (And Every Bike Gang Summit!)

I spend most of my time in retirement doing three things: 1) collecting rare gold coins, 2) teaching kids firearm safety, 3) and most importantly, lecturing about the evils of bicycle gang summits. Why do I dedicate my life to stopping bike gang summits? Sadly, because I was once a member of a bicycle gang.

As a youth I rode with a bicycle gang. And I made all the horrible choices one could make – nights of moral bankruptcy, dancing on the Sabbath, carousing with unmarried women. Life is too short to throw it away on such meaningless pursuits! That is why I chose a different path. After coming back from the war and seeing my fellow soldiers throw it all away by joining these bicycle gangs, I had to do something. Hitler was one tough son of a gun allright, but getting people to give up these bike gangs has been the biggest battle of my life.

So while all my fellow veterans are out playing bingo at the VFW Hall or at home watching Wheel of Fortune, I’m going to be here on my computer fighting the good fight and educating the next greatest generation on what not to do with their life.

Thanks for joining the movement!