New URL, Same Great Flavor

The Zero Per Gallon blog can now be found on the zpg website at zeropergallon.com/blog.

Go forth, and socially network!

An interview with Kit Kohler, the new Chief Executive Presidente Extraordinaire of Zero Per Gallon

As most of you know, I’m leaving on a crusade to rid the world of Sea Goats. As such, I’ve sold Zero Per Gallon, and I couldn’t be more excited about the new guy taking the helm of ZPG. He’s not old! He’s not fat! He’s not boring! And not excessively hairy!

OK, that’s understating things. Kit really is awesome. He rode from SF to LA a few weeks ago, and literally carried three stranded elderly people 42 miles on his Xtracycle because it was just the right thing to do. They were lost, and dehydrated, and their Oldsmobile had broken down, so he strapped ‘em on with bungee cords, and gave them some old sweaty shirts to use as bandanas, so that dust wouldn’t get in their noses. Pretty crafty, huh? When feeble old people get lost and need carrying, look no further than Kit Kohler. That’s what kind of upstanding citizen he is. He’s also funny, and full of energy, and loves bikes a lot (but not too much; he’s never tried to smell my seat or lick my top tube or anything.)

Anyway, I am honored and humbled and inspired that Kit is taking over ZPG. I’m also grateful that he sat down for the following interview.

So, ladies and gentlemen of the bicycle kingdom, behold Kit Kohler, the new Chief Executive Presidente Extraordinaire of Zero Per Gallon.

*** *** *** *** ***

Jonny5: Hi Kit.
Kit: Hola compadre.

Would you prefer to go by “Chief Executive Presidente Extraordinaire”or “Big Banana” or “Head Honcho” or some other more grandiose title?
I am still running focus groups on a number of titles. For the time being, I will accept the title “The Dude.”

Cool, The Dude. Can I remain Head Honcho Emeritus?
For sure. And believe me, I will be making use of your clout for years to come. In a few years, when you return from sea, don’t be surprised to see images of yourself selling Japanese soft drinks. Next time you might want to read the fine print on those fancy legal contracts.

Oh crap. How did I miss that? Did I miss a bunch of other stuff? Are you secretly a closeted goat lover? Let’s set the record straight: do you hate goats?
Hate is a strong word I reserve for organizations that picket funerals. Goats have not yet earned this feeling from me, but suffice it to say in the past few months, I have certainly developed a profound distrust.

Hmmm, sounds like you’re equivocating. Have you ever gone to a costume party dressed up as a goat?
Never.

Have you ever gotten so drunk at a costume party that you maybe passed out, or flirted with someone in a goat costume, or don’t really remember what you did to/with someone in a goat costume?
I have no idea what you’re talking about. Next question.

Do you have friends who are the type of friends who, if you passed out at a costume party, or maybe tried to dry-hump a person in a goat costume, would, like, maybe dress you up as a goat or take incriminating photos?
This is ridiculous. Can we talk about ZPG again?

I AM talking about ZPG! Are your friends technologically savvy? Do they know how to take photos? Do they know how to use the internet? I mean, are there photos of you dressed up as a goat, humping some other dressed-up goat, on Facebook? Do I need to prepare myself for this type of shock?
I think this question will have to be addressed by my press secretary. Unfortunately I haven’t hired one yet, so I guess it will have to wait.

Damnit! Stonewalling, huh? You won’t get away with this for long. So… are you gonna, like, bring ZPG into the next millennium and make it all web-2.0 and stuff?
Web 2.0? How quaint. I plan to have ZPG operating to Web 18.75 standards by 2010, an entire decade before anyone is even aware of what this level of sophistication is. I’m aiming for the history books.

Cool, cause I just read that book about John Adams, and I think a little ZPG stuff would go well in between the love letters than John and Abigail sent to each other. But really: are you gonna change the ZPG brand at all? I mean, in addition to the ZPG and 53mpb stickers and patches and shirts, are you gonna make an “I heart goats” design? Maybe, in your case, you should make an “I got drunk at a costume party and my friends dressed me up like a goat and made me do terrible terrible things and then they took photos and posted them on the internet” design. You could be the first person to model the design, too. Think that would sell?
Alright, enough already. I was 19. I was in (rural) Alberta, Canada, and everyone insisted it was a local tradition. Can we move on now?.

I knew it!
Hey, that was more than 10 years ago. I’ve changed.

Oh yeah? So what’s your deal these days? What kind of life does a former goat lover live? I mean, you live in the Bay Area. Do you, like, wake up and do yoga and drink foofy coffee drinks and, like, do some sort of tech/computer work and only eat free-range quinoa grown by disabled orphans with AIDS in africa that you bought from deaf midgets at a farmer’s market and spend your evenings phonebanking for the libertarian candidate for governor, what’s his face?
Here in The Higher Power’s Land — I am a native North Californian — we respect all living things, treat our bodies as temples, grow deeper with the universe through a medicinal plant known as Cannibus and on the odd occasion, refer to ourselves as “I and I.” I’m a vegetarian, I work for a company I still can’t describe in five words or less, and I only eat the disabled orphan African stuff because it tastes better.

What? You eat disabled African orphans? That’s awful!
No, no — I eat the disabled African orphan brand of quinoa. I mean, jeez, I’m a vegetarian.

Oh. Right. Of course. So do you like the Governator? Are you gonna send him any stickers for his SUV’s?
He’s from the future. There are bigger things on his mind than the health of our planet. Robots have taken over civilization.

Is that why you ride a bike? Because it’s, you know, all manual and not automatic/electronic/robotic?
Yeah, totally. No matter what goes down, me and my bike will survive.

Do you have any pets? You probably have like 14 of those tiny hairless dogs with huge bat ears, right?
I have two cats.

Are they hairless or are they awesome? And do they have awesome names like “Awesome” or “Brilliant” or “Fantastic” or “Stellar”??
They are hairier than you can imagine, and they are sterling, and I have all sorts of disgustingly cute names for my cats which I am unwilling to disclose at this time. Maybe if you hadn’t brought up the goat incident I’d feel more willing to share.

I apologize, The Dude. But are you claiming you can conjure up a greater degree of hairiness than I can? Are you stepping?
Dude – my cats are hairier than your mom!

Ohhhhh! Nice! Two points to The Dude!
Thanks. I feel better now.

Good, cause I wanna ask you more about goats. Do you have any stuffed goats?
No matter how many times you offer, I really don’t have the space for that trophy goat head, and I really don’t agree that it would look good in my living room above the mantle.

Oh yeah? Are you, like, some design genius too? Are you an expert in Feng shui? What do you know about the aesthetic value of beheaded goats?
My partner, Jakki, nixed the idea, OK?

Wait, you’re married?
Yeah, I’m married to an extremely passionate cyclist. Not to get too smooshy, but she’s one of the reasons I’m so passionate about cycling as a lifestyle. She’s just as committed. Heck, she’s rocking a ZPG sticker on her bike alongside “Mend your Fuelish Ways.” Needless to say we get about 2 gigabytes of email a day from activists. My spam filter has actually given up and is now trying to buy a plane ticket to the North Pole to save endangered polar bears.

Whoa, the awesomeness of Jakki and your spam filter rivals that of my former cat. But that’s beside the point. Allow me to get all smooshy: does Jakki have stinky biker feet like the rest of us? Or, like, huge nasty bunions and callouses?
I will not disparage Jakki’s feet. She’s very well balanced.

Does she know about that little Canadian goat incident in your past?
No comment. But Canadian Goat Incident would be a good name for a band.

Yeah, totally.
[Laughs.]

Do you own a car?
I do. I bought a Subaru Outback five years ago. It sits for months without being driven, and I forget to turn off the interior lights and I have to jump start it every time I want to drive it. I also frequently find myself terrified by driving it. I mean, to put it into D&D terminology, switching from a bike to a car is like: – 160 Vision, + 200 Attack Damage.

Huh? Are you one of those Dungeons and Dragons megadorks? Because you don’t seem like a megadork. In fact, you have some pretty hip striped shirts that remind me, in a good way, of the stuff I wore back in elementary school — when life was innocent and straightforward and everything was cool and exciting. What’s the deal? I mean, I just wear jeans and a t-shirt, and half the time it’s a ZPG shirt, and people are like, “I wish gas was that cheap,’ and I’m like, “well it would be if you rode a bike,” and they’re like totally stumped – but whenever you wear your striped shirts I’m just like, “that guy’s cool.” I’m not sure if this is even a question, but tell me about your style anyway, and reassure me that you’re not a megadork.
First of all, I can’t help but notice that somehow we were all effortlessly cool in elementary school. I know I have a few photos that tickle my narcissistic tendencies every time I see them. They’re proudly on display in my Facebook album entitled “Kit – The Early Years” in case you wanna see ‘em. And no, there are no goat-related pictures there. Then high school happened, the grunge scene, you know, it wasn’t so great for men. My heart still flutters when I see a girl wearing a skirt with black tights and Doc Martens, but flannel wasn’t so kind to men. Then I put on about 20 pounds in college, so that wasn’t so great, either, though by then I was developing the style I have today. Finally, I got out and discovered the bicycle, lost the pudge, and started to look really sharp, I think. I’m certainly a fan of stripes, but I’m an even bigger fan of Argyle. I don’t know if this will ever show up in future products for Zero Per Gallon, but I wouldn’t rule it out.

How do you feel about velcro?
It’s an amazing technological breath-through. Who knew they could so effectively replicate the sound of ripping polyester?

If you had an unlimited supply of velcro, and a BB gun, and whole bunch of jalapeno peppers, and knowledge that a certain petting zoo known to harbor goats had very lax security, what would you do?
No comment.

Stonewalling will get you nowhere.
No comment! I’m a married man and can’t engage in certain shenanigans anymore!

But sometimes life presents amazing opportunities, you know?
Fine: I’d give you a call.

That’s what I’m talking about. You’re a smart one, The Dude.
I know, I know.

Have you ever been hit by a car?
I have not. I am currently knocking on wood.

Do you have a real job?
I do. My title is 40 characters long.

Um, so you know how to read and write and count really really well?
Totally. My pen is a sword. And I mean one of those bad-ass Samurai swords, not that sissy s#!+ the French used to poke each other with in Shakespeare. In fact, this type-written interview is pretty much transcribed from the original, which was written in the blood of my enemies.

That’s awesome. I like your attitude. How are you gonna spice things up at ZPG?
I’m planning on introducing casual Fridays at the office, and by casual I mean nude. Unfortunately we have no office and I would probably be arrested for walking around San Francisco in the nude, so this may have to wait until we’ve garnered a greater market share.

Whoa whoa whoa, that business jargon is going way over my head. Let’s use language I can understand. What about the quality control process I used to call ” Look In The Friggin’ Envelope To Make Sure No Goats Snuck In There While I Was Busy Checking Out Crazy Stuff On The Internet” – are you gonna continue with that?
Before investing in Zero Per Gallon, I did extensive market research to determine customer-satisfaction and brand-recall rates in Men and Women between the ages of 18 and 34. The results seem to verify that your aforementioned process has been working flawlessly, and that if any goats have infiltrated your packaging, the recipient was either too frightened or too thrilled to levy any sort of complaint against Zero Per Gallon or you, Jonny5.

I knew it all along, but thanks. How many bikes do you have? Do they have names? Describe them in poems, please.
My first bike is a craptastic big-box-sports-store faux-mountain bike. Yes, I know, total newb bike, but I have her covered on my deck because I can’t bear to part with her.

Ode to a Mongoose
Who danced like a whale
I didn’t know when I bought you
I should have gone with hardtail

I may talk badly
of your creaks and your groans.
But any others who slight you
will get my fist to their nose.

My other bike is pretty much my sole method of transportation–a Surly Long Haul Trucker. She’s my do-everything bike from commuting to grocery hauling to touring. Her name is Gladys.

She’s steel and she’s muscle,
not nimble but smooth.
She isn’t a racehorse,
But she knows how to move.

She’s soft as a cloud.
She’s tougher than grit.
She’s chipped and she’s weathered,
and she don’t give a shit.

Nicely done. You sound like a true devotee. Any thoughts on bicycle rockstardom lately?
Most people with email addresses seem to think Danny MacAskill is a bicycle rockstar — they forward me that video of his trials riding about three times a day. But I think everyone who gets the message behind Zero Per Gallon is a bicycle rockstar. Cars are a foregone conclusion in our culture — our infrastructure is set up for it, and everyone in a car is convinced that you’re nuts to use a bike for real-life every-day transportation. I can’t tell you how many times people have done a double take and asked me, “you rode here?” This is something everyone under pedal power hears on a weekly basis. But the more you show people that it’s do-able, that you’re doing it in normal clothes or that you’re a regular person and not some lycra-bound athlete with monster thighs, the more you whittle away at all the voices, the little excuses, telling them that cycling as a lifestyle is just too inconvenient. If you’re a cyclist, you are making a difference every time you throw your leg over the top tube, whether you realize it or not. Your friends and family have noticed what you’re doing. Every time they see you and your bike they’re reminded, encouraged, and inspired to be something better. If that’s not being a bicycle rockstar, I’m not sure what is.

I heard Lance Armstrong likes to go on long rides all caffeinated up on that Rockstar energy drink. Wouldn’t that, technically, also sometimes make him a bicycle rockstar?
Sometimes, sure. But not after the caffeine wears off.

Kohier — isn’t that like the faucet company? Was your great great great greateat grandfather a faucet inventor?
You are too kind. I usually refer to it as the name you see shortly before you send last night’s dinner a-packing. It’s no relation, but seriously, how many people get to saddle up to a urinal, turn to the guy next to them and say, “Hey, this one has my name on it.”

Is there any chance that your great great great great grandfather was also a goatherder, and if so, is there a damn good reason you didn’t bring this to my attention before I signed all those legal documents?
I knew this would come to light eventually. Luckily it didn’t before you signed the legally binding paperwork. If you have a problem you can phone my lawyer. His name? Hans Ziege.

How excited are you?
I’m about to lose control, and I think I like it.

On cruelty to goats: a brief op-ed

I don’t know about you, but it seems like Americans these days are getting to be softies on animal cruelty. I mean, come on, is it really so bad to put a little crack in your cat’s catnip? Is it so terrible to make your dog wear a diaper? What’s so terrible about dunking a bunny rabbit in molasses? Pets love that stuff; it’s just that the people at PETA — the same brilliant crew who decided to rename fish “sea kittens” — would have us believe that doing anything except feeding an animal three times a day is morally wrong, deserving of jail time, and probably psychotherapy, too. The way I see it, animals need challenges, just like young adults, and what doesn’t kill ‘em only makes ‘em stronger, and better for telling stories about.

So that’s why I was confused when I heard the story of a goat named Brett. Some honest Minnesotan — bless her heart — shaved a number 4 into a its evil wool, then spraypainted it purple and gold, then taught it the Minnesota Vikings themesong and a couple of cheerleading moves, and then tied it up (or maybe she tied it up first) and shoved it in the trunk of her car. She stopped to get her car fixed, and then some meddling car mechanic discovered the goat-in-the-trunk, alerted the authorities, and foiled her plan to rid the world of one more evil creature (it was to be ritualistically slaughtered, Minnesota style, whatever that is). The goat stayed in the picture (adopted by some eco-hippies who probably have a glass tank full of sea kittens), and the Minnesotan was charged with animal cruelty misdemeanors.

Here’s the thing I don’t get: where was the cruelty? Do goats not like being tied up with rope? Do they prefer velcro, or those kinky fake handcuffs? Do they not like taking naps in the dark? Is anyone willing to argue that putting a goat in a trunk is any worse than putting a cat in one of those plastic-cat-carrier-boxes that people use to take their cats on planes? I hear cats LOVE those things. And besides: goats are evil! Hello Minnesotans: you should be aware of these things. As always, there’s work to be done.

Greetings, Sioux Fallers and Biker/Sailors

I’m back from vacation, all inspired and proud of the 14 new curse words I learned in Japanese, thanks to a friend from Japan. That’s one gruff language! Take that, cabrones!

But I’ll keep this G-rated, so as not to offend the toddlers out there.

So:

ZPG sponsored an alleycat in Sioux Falls a few weeks ago. Check it:

ZPG is also a big fan of this take on the “one less car” shirt, courtesy of Josh.

Thanks, amigos!

All you naysayers can spend $6 and read my riotous words

That’s me! That’s me! I’ve written an awesome interview with Evan P. Schneider, the awesome editor of the awesome “Boneshaker: A Bicycling Almanac.”

Buy a copy now and save it for your great grandkids! Send it to me for a real live autograph! Or just read it, cause it’s great.

Here’s another teaser (without the vowels removed):

…Is a symbol enough? No way. It’s just a symbol. I mean, I can’t eat the word CHEERIOS for breakfast. For god sakes, I’d much rather live in a world in which everybody rides bikes and nobody buys my stickers because they’re just so damned obvious. I’d love to see the day when, riding hands-free, some girl checks her email on her iPhone, clicks on a link her grandma emailed to her, ends up on ZeroPerGallon.com, and is like, “Geez, grandma, the symbolic gesture here is so L-A-M-E,” and then watches the latest Justin Timberlake Jr. video and is like, “That’s what I’m talkin’ about,” and then puts her hands back on the bars to take some wicked tight turns on a crazy descent.

But thanks for calling it powerful, ubiquitous, and semiotically-interesting. I appreciate that. To take a Kindergartener’s approach, “If you love it so much, why don’t you marry it?”

But really: the numbers do speak for themselves. That’s why my stickers keep selling. The loading of anger/contempt/etc. is only done by my words, on my website, and intended as sort of a comfort — a soft welcome mat, or a clean, dry bench in a heavy rain — for bicyclists who visit my website. “Aha,” I hope they’ll say. “This guy understands my situation. He feels like I do. He’s just like me. Except hairier, and taller, and better looking, and more awesome.” (Just kidding about that last part.)

the BFF is my new BFF

The Bicycle Film Festival is always awesome, but I was really excited about it this year. A week before the event, an email from Brendt, the big papa of the BFF, mentioned that, to kick off the festival, Blonde Redhead would be playing at the Independent. Sweet! A little NYC goodness in SF! The email included a link for those unfamiliar with the band… and that’s when I knew my excitement was warranted.

Say what you want about the performance art, or the music, or the temperature of your coffee this morning, but that’s Miranda July doing those poses, and that’s Blonde Redhead making that music, and the thing that brought it all together, or at least to my attention, was bikes. Serendipity doesn’t get any better than that. Huzzah! As Brendt likes to chant wherever he goes, BIKES ROCK!

So I spent the last 143 hours watching bike porn non-stop, and now I can barely feel my fingertips or blink my left eye. I saw a dozen short movies, including”Anima D’ Acciaio” (“Soul of steel”), a crisp profile of Framebuilder and mechanical poet Giovanni “Ciocc” Pelizzoli.

Anima D’Acciaio Trailer Ver5.1 from Cinecycle on Vimeo.

There was also “Made in Queens,” a short, funny window on some New York teenagers turning bikes into 300 lb music machines that topped out at maybe 2mph. But by far the best movie was called “Where are you go,” and it was directed by the illustrious Benny Zenga, who oversees the BFF in Toronto, and made the fantastic short movie “Ski Boys.”

Here’s the really cool part: Benny was in SF for the festival this year, and I couldn’t help noticing that he was riding one of my ZPG Anti Hero skateboards. I’m a fan of him, he’s a fan of me, and while the movies were showing, we made out in the back on a big squishy couch. It was friggin awesome.

Actually, that’s a lie. The couch was very firm. But anyway, “Where are you go,” features some spectacular moments. One subject of the film, a Dutch rider named Jos Kaal, summed up the time on his bike this way: “Sit, stand, drink, eat. You know, look around.” That, to him, was the essence of the 12,000 km Tour d’ Afrique, from Cairo to Cape Town. It was a 4-month endeavor, and another guy compared it to a time warp. There was talk of how such a ride makes you redefine your basic needs, and how, eventually, what was once really exotic can become routine. Another rider summed up the race this way: “It would be great to be home, but there’s a lot i enjoy: the company, the serenity, the riding.” Aint that the truth. My hat is off to you, Benny, for again making the finest movie of the festival.

Hotter in a helmet?

Attention Bikers: Ride your bike to the brothel in Berlin and get 7% off all kinds of sex acts!

I know, I know, I too I was under the impression that the demand for sex (and alcohol) was inelastic. Apparently some idiot/genius named Thomas Goetz, who probably didn’t go to a liberal arts college and instead got a far more valuable education running a brothel, decided to offer a discount, and screw up the whole damn theory.

And I know, I know, I was once under the impression that Reuters actually reported news, but that’s only because I went to journalism school and had a whole bunch of purist old-timey crap shoved down my throat. Most of you probably know way better than to believe that tomfoolery, which is why you’re reading some jackass biking blog instead of your local newspaper. Ha! That was a joke! You probably don’t even have a local newspaper anymore, and hence have nothing to wipe your ass with! Ha! Now it’s sad and funny, like so many things in life…

And I know, I know, the headline of the story — “Take off your bicycle helmet, big boy!” — couldn’t be more flame retardant. The least the Reuters editor could have done is made some dumb pun about riding hard or coming as fast as you can or the village bicycle or any number of other PG-13 sleezeball lines. But no, instead we get hard-hitting neutral verbs like “negate,” “arrive,” and “alleviate.” Shakespeare had the cajones to say it like it is, or at least allude to it. Shit, the spam I get is raunchier, and it’s in Russian!

That’s it. The current “media climate” depresses me too much. I’m going back to putting “everything” in quotes and looking for a life-sized inflatable goat. What, is that weird?

Congrats to me

Hey everyone, check me and my stuff out!!

I’ve moved up from the sticker/patch/belt/shirt making industry to the sailboat-parts industry!

I’m making and selling little aluminum mast steps, so that sailors can climb up their sailboat masts like lizards, or koala bears, as the case may be. Point is, they make it possible to climb a 50 foot metal pole, which is important. I started the company, called Climb the Mast, with my buddy Matt, only two weeks ago. It’s super exciting.

*If you didn’t know, I’m a biker AND a sailor. Yes, I have a sailboat. I bought it with 2 buddies, and we’re fixing it up so that we can sail around the world. No shit! I’m writing about it on our own site and also for Outside magazine’s blog. (If you read really closely, you’ll find some anti-goat propaganda I snuck in there. Devious, huh?)

So I just sorta felt like showing off, spreading the word, and also reminding peeps that I’m preparing to up and leave, head out on the wide blue yonder… and that, as a result, this whole ZPG enterprise is for sale. More details on ZPG soon… but if you think running a small, profitable, bike-friendly business would be fun, or know someone who might think it’s fun, let ‘em know, and get in touch with me!

Fair winds, suckas!

-Jonny

How janky is your bike?

Smart guy and official Brit (he adds U’s and E’s to all sorts of words that would be fine without them) makes some awesome fake-rust stickers, the better to make your bike look a little jankier, and less appealing to thieves. Brilliant!

The most evil map I’ve ever seen

*my favorite thing: “1 dot = 500 goats”

[courtesy of alert reader and fellow goat-hater Peter]

The (turtle) bachelor

All you haters can read my wikipedia entry for Awesome (the cat), except that those bastards at Wikipedia deleted it prontospeed

Awesome (the cat)

-Summary
-Awesome’s story
-Childhood, and gender revelation
-Feline adolescence
-Supposed abandonment
-Blatant falsehoods

Summary

Awesome the cat is a rugged beast who roams the Mt. Pleasant neighborhood of Washington, DC, particularly Kilbourne and 18th streets. He has exceptionally thick black fur, with white spots on his feet, chest, and stomach. His whiskers are unrivaled, his tail is elephantine, and his dreadlocks approach Bob Marley’s in quality. He has never lived indoors, or used a litter box, or been bathed. He eats with his fingers, and licks his chops. He reacts to catnip much in the way that Marion Barry reacted to crack. He’ll eat canned cat food, but he prefers barbecued meats. He regularly catches squirrels and birds. He sleeps where he feels like it. He doesn’t take crap from anybody. He is a manly, rugged cat, even if he doesn’t have balls anymore.

Awesome the cat is also, behind the furry veneer, an exceedingly friendly animal. He is a neighborhood socialite, snubbing nobody. He’ll follow you for blocks. His meow is one of greeting, not one of whining. He’s an extrovert, and likes shoving his tail up your shorts or attacking your foot. He’s not all goth and creepy and reclusive and Unabomber psycho like some cats. Awesome is awesome.

Awesome’s story:

Awesome was just a small, gender-neutral un-named furball when Jonny Waldman found him on December 29, 2005. This was at the Columbia Rd./Calvert St. gas station, where Jonny had stopped to fill up his tires. Awesome (then un-named) climbed out of a stack of tires, and inspected the inside Jonny’s Nissan like he owned it. It was a warm day. Jonny asked the gas station attendant about the lineage of the nascent beast, and was informed that the cat had been left there, abandoned. So Jonny adopted it, and brought it home. The next day, Jonny walked up to Petco, on Connecticut Ave., and paid $8 to have Awesome’s name etched into a small metal tag.

Childhood, and gender revelation

Less than two weeks later, big news reverberated around Mt. Pleasant. Here’s the original news announcement:

—

VET DISCOVERS BALLS; AWESOME IS A BOY!

Jan 12, 2006 — Washington, DC — Shock! Disbelief! Insanity! Two weeks after being adopted and brought back to life, Awesome, and his/her/its true identity, has at last been revealed by a medical expert — and it’s not what anybody thought.

According to an unnamed, undescribable veterinarian at the DC Humane Society, Awesome the cat has two awesome tiny cat-sized testicles hidden somewhere amid his thick black fur, making him a full-fledged member of the male club.

Soon after Awesome’s balls were discovered, they were surgically removed, though, prompting calls from Mr. Milton Ballsman, the president of Washington’s Male Club Local Union 43, to deny membership status to Awesome.

Mr. Ballsman, though, retracted his statement after Jonny5, Awesome’s awesome owner, threatened to remove Mr. Ballsman’s balls if anyone so much as thought of messing with Awesome.

Employees at the DC Humane Society, overhearing Jonny5’s awesome threat to protect Awesome and Awesome’s awesome status as a male, cried out in support of Jonny5.

“Word up!,” one said.

“That’s awesome for Awesome,” said another.

“Meow,” chimed in Awesome.

And then, while nobody was looking, the unnamed veterinarian hung TBTFBTA (The Balls That Formerly Belonged To Awesome) from the rear-view mirror of his 1996 Toyota Camry, and sped off towards the Maryland suburbs.

—-

Feline adolescence:

Over the next seven months, Awesome thrived under Jonny’s care at 3161 18th St. Awesome grew furrier, and dreadlockier, and learned to fetch sticks. He learned how to antagonize the two huge dogs next door, while avoiding their wrath. He learned how to peek into the kitchen, and how to climb up onto the roof. His popularity grew, even though he never joined Facebook or Myspace. He humped every female cat in the neighborhood, and never wore a condom, and never fathered any offspring. Awesome was a party animal, and was a key part of the Triumvirate of Awesomeness, the other two elements of which were a Keg of YuengLing and a barbecue grill fashioned out of a 55-gallon steel drum. As always, Awesome didn’t restrain his awesomeness.

Supposed “abandonment”:

In July of 2006, Jonny moved to San Francisco, and left Awesome under the care of his neighbors at 3159 Kilbourne St. Awesome would have liked San Francisco, and Jonny wishes he could have brought Awesome to the west coast, but Awesome would not have fared well during a month-long stop in Wyoming, a land of much larger, furrier, ruggeder, more carnivorous beasts. So it was with great sadness that Jonny said so long to Awesome. “Keep on being awesome, Awesome,” he said.

Blatant falsehoods about Awesome the cat:

Contrary to the opinions of some softer, wussier cat-owners:

*Awesome the cat would not “be happier indoors.”

*Awesome the cat would not be “happier without all those dreadlocks.”

*Awesome the cat does not “need to see a vet.”

*Awesome the cat has not “been abandoned.”

Additionally, a statement on one neighborhood forum attesting to Awesome the cat’s age (“this has been his home for almost a decade”) is untrue, unless 3.5 years equals “almost a decade.”

Furthermore, the statement “he was left behind by his irresponsible previous human” is both syntactically weird and unsubstantiated. First, “Previous human” suggests that Jonny was once, but is no longer, a human. This is not the case. Jonny hasn’t forsaken the species, and still has balls. And while “irresponsible” may be a suitable description for Jonny, it is unsubstantiated in this case, as Jonny carefully arranged for Awesome’s care after his departure. If anything, bringing Awesome to Wyoming to get devoured by a coyotoe/moose/bear would have been irresponsible. Last but not least, Jonny is not Awesome’s human anymore than Awesome is Jonny’s cat. Jonny believes that you east coasters gotta stop getting all possessive about relationships like that, loosen up a bit, maybe smoke a little bit of crack if that’s what it takes.

Take THAT, Alcoholics Anonymous!

ZPG is biggering and biggering: more shops, more merch, more fun.

I’m most excited about new “53 miles per beer” stickers, and, at long last, “53 miles per burrito” patches.

Tell your friends Santa just woke up from hibernatation, went on a bender, shaved his head, got a skanky tattoo, and traded in his sleigh and those dumbass reindeer (parking was always a bitch, and you know how NOT fun it is to clean up reindeer poop in a plastic bag? You can’t use just a regular bag. You need a friggin industrial size garbage bag!) for a classy Italian bike. Yeah.

Hitler, on the frustrations of owning a car

Rejected McSweeney’s submission #7: The recession-induced dissolution of my emotional well-being, as told through would-be brand-name teas

Prosperi Tea

Quali Tea

Masculini Tea

Fecundi Tea

Sereni Tea

Austeri Tea

Fragili Tea

Temeri Tea

Absurdi Tea

Indigni Tea

Increduli Tea

Animosi Tea

Frivoli Tea

Mendaci Tea

Brutali Tea

Vulgari Tea

Pauci Tea

Calami Tea

Pi Tea

Bipolari Tea

Pover Tea

Duplici Tea

Immorali Tea

Depravi Tea

Insani Tea