Subject: Re: order
Date: Jan 21
Hi Christopher T Shields,
Brilliant! Absolutely Brilliant! You have some pretty amusing stickers. Just make sure that helmet is Snell approved so the funeral can be open casket and people like me can marvel at how well the funeral home has covered up the swelling. I bet you can get that GSXR or CBR plastic to fly over 100 yards when you lose control and hit a solid object that is tougher than you (yes there are things out there that are tougher than you).
If you aren't big enough to handle a large bike, then don't buy one. Don't piss and moan about the people out there that can maneuver an 800 lb+ motorcycle (Harleys, Valkyries and Goldwings included). Stick to your plastic rice rocket and try to act as cool as possible while riding with your hat backward and your Prada or Gucchi sandals on.
And just in case no one in America or Great Britain told you, 5'12" = 6'0". I know Standard measurements are hard to convert from metric so I want to offer this bit of knowledge; 12" = 1'. Good luck with your illustrious career as an online t-shirt salesman and I wish you the best of luck with your 1/4 mile stoplight races against Harley riders that don't give a fuck about how fast your $3,000 plastic turd can go.
And "oh my god" this Harley has Japanese parts on it!!!! It's less American than a Honda POS!!!! It leaks so much oil!!!! I better buy rice!!!! I've heard that excuse from every rice owner I've met... Pull your head out of the sand... my Harley leaks far less oil than any piece of shit Jap cruiser I've run across... every tech that I've talked to in the rice shops bitch about how much oil the "amazing" Japanese motorcycles piss themselves with. The AMF days ended over 20 years ago, so you can drop that stereotype that every American motorcycle leaves a puddle of oil to mark its territory.
A couple t-shirt ideas for your dumbass:
"If I wanted to make a lifetime career of helping 19 year old dumbfucks commit suicide, i would have opened a Suzuki dealership."
"Just because you can create a webpage with Frontpage, doesn't mean you should."
By the way, the cool Japanese "saying" that you have on your plastic really says "stupid round-eye actually bought this piece of shit", not "I'm a cool metrosexual on a fast bike" like you thought when you were buying the bike.
The little rant about your partner Keith telling off a Harley rider is cute but so full of shit it's funny. First of all, 99% of motorists don't give a fuck what some crotch rocket metrosexual is telling to a guy on a cruiser (Harley or otherwise). Toot your little horn as much as you want, but the motorists around "Keith" were waiting to see the Harley rider stomp that smart-mouthed little pussy. The saving grace was that Keith's inline-four quickly propelled him away from the wrath of the 5'16" (which in America or Great Britain would equate to 6' 4") Harley rider that was about to show him what "near-death" really means.
In the future, Power Ranger, think of this. Most motorcyclists are happy to see a fellow motorcyclist on the road. That means there is one more person that shares the joy of two wheels and the liberty associated with that. If that other person pushes some bullshit attitude (my rice is so much faster than your corn), they quickly become just another asshole on the infinite highway of assholes.
Thank you for putting on a shirt what I always thought a narrow-minded retard would put on a shirt.
Bjorn Kerigson -Another American Harley Rider
which I have replied...
What a truly intellectually loathsome piece of email this was...
May I kindly redirect your attention back to the subject line in the email above? Notice the words "Re: Order." Now, savvy Internet and Email users would understand that this indicates that Mr. Kerigson is replying to an email he received from me, one entitled "order" even though no such email was ever sent. Or perhaps, Mr. Kerigson is simply trying to trick me into thinking that he and I were somehow conducting business with a T-shirt or bumper sticker order. All of this would imply that Mr. Kerigson originally received an email message from me entitled "Order" which he did not since the first time I even knew of Mr. Kerigson's existence was when I read his email posted above.
I call this type of Harley owner tactic "phishing" since he is trying to trick me into reading his email when he thinks that I normally would not. Several times a month I get emails which try to trick me into reading them, since I guess the HD zealots out there simply don't believe me when I say that I do read every single email that I receive, good or bad. Trust me, you don't have to try to trick me into reading your email, I'm going to read it anyway and I'm looking forward to seeing if you're as dumb as I think you are. Sometimes I'm very pleasantly surprised because you turn out to be even dumber than I expected and that's when the real mirth begins. The bottom line in this regard is that you Luddites don't have to resort to trickery to get me to read your email, I'm looking forward to it and I eagerly await with great patience each day for your tid-bits of brain damage to accrue in my email program's Inbox.
Now, as for Mr. Kerigson's email ...
honestly don’t know where this angry
Nordic taint elf came up with some of the absurd stuff that he ranted about but
it sure does sound like someone has been trolling the various pro-Harley message
boards lately and using my good name to stir up a heap of trouble.
Naughty, naughty and for shame on whoever was responsible for that bit of social non-conformity!
Now, let me firmly state (again) that I don’t visit or troll other people’s message forums (ever). Why I make this my policy is simple, really, and revolves around two very good and basic reasons. The first reason is that I am reactive and so is my site. What that means is that I have an opinion and I keep it to myself. You have to come to my site to read that opinion and you have to send me email to comment on that opinion. I do not advertise my site, I do not promote it, I do not charge admission and I do not restrict who can visit my site in any way. This is a personal site open to all. You choose to come here or not, no one forces you to come here (or to stay for that matter). You choose to read my opinion (or not). You choose to comment on my opinion (or not). You must come here, first. That’s the rule, that’s how it is and that is how it has always been for over twelve years now. I keep my opinion here, on my website, on space that I personally pay for out of my pocket alone.
The second reason is that I simply don’t have time to visit other people’s forums and spread mischief (and why would I want to do that even if I somehow did have the time?). I’m 36 years old, a very happy person in life (as you can tell by my outgoing sense of humor) and a very, very busy man. My marriage (the only one I’ve ever had) is rock solid and I have many hobbies and interests that exist offline more so than on. I don’t visit or troll other people’s message forums because I don’t need your respect or your approval of what I do. Consequently, I fervently hope that you don’t need my approval in turn (if, however, you do need my approval or respect in order to live your life and be happy, then you’re in far worse shape than you could ever possibly imagine).
My nature in debates is wholly reactive. That is, I’m nice until it is time not to be nice and the time not to be nice is when a handful of inbred dullards begin to invade my email with tired old clichés and advertising hype.
You have to come to me. You have to drag your tired old mud into my personal space on the Internet and you have to throw the first punch. That’s how the game is played, that’s how it has been played for over twelve years now. I get too much hatred and stupidity in my email already to worry about trying to actively stir some up to come my way. Trust me, my site gets plenty of attention through word of mouth as it is without me actively promoting it by invading and trolling other people’s message forums.
I don’t visit the message forums of Harley advocates because … well, why would I even want to? What would there be to talk about on such message forums, given the typical intelligence of the average Harley owner? We certainly wouldn’t talk about anything remotely related to quantum physics or theology… Hell, I’d be lucky to find a conversation on a pro-Harley board that dealt with some topic much deeper than esoteric finger painting.
I don’t invade other people’s forums. Period. I have never done that and I never will because it’s not who or what I am, despite what some of you may think. Trolling is for the young, the naïve, and the uneducated. It does nothing but annoy the more experienced and savvy users of the Internet. In my long years on the Internet (virtual presence established 1993 A.D., thank you very much), I’ve seen too much trolling to ever be impressed by it or want to do it. That’s not how I choose to behave on the Internet. While other people often pretend to be something that they are not, with me it is strictly WYSIWYG. With that stated, let me also say that unless you read my words here on my site, in my domain, or on my message forum posted by me, then what you see are not my words. Emphasis on “read MY words here on MY site.” I’m also not in the habit of emailing people on a preemptive basis. If you get an email from me and you never sent me one before, chances are, it isn’t me talking to you. What you do with your life and how you live it is of no concern to me. It’s only when you attack my opinion, my beliefs or my way of life that you and I will have any problems.
As for finding my words posted in your message forum, any moron can cut and paste text they find on the Internet (even an AOLoser) it takes no skill, and anything that can be cut and pasted can be subsequently modified before it is posted somewhere else. Many lesser intellectually gifted cretins take parts of my work, without permission, copy it, edit it, then paste it on another message forum while claiming to be me. The messages are usually posted with a link back to my site then the posers sit back and bask in the flames. Since they are impersonating me, they can do whatever they want, hiding behind someone else’s identity linked to an anonymous membership. The result is an instant flame trail back to my site but it isn’t the poster who has to deal with the parade of unwashed villagers who gather up the torches and pitchforks to march up to the monster’s castle for some medieval justice and, hopefully, a good old fashioned banjo and fiddle laden hoe-down afterwards.
Why do some people do this?
My guess is that a lot of people enjoy reading my work (or so I’ve been told often enough) and when I get slow or don’t post online for a while, some of my fans may take it upon their selves to lend a hand to that situation by generating some traffic for my site. They do this by causing trouble, in my name, on someone else’s site then hoping that you, the Harley owners, will get mad enough to send me some stupid email and then I’ll get mad enough to post your email here with a humorous reply. The result is that those who enjoy this site get to laugh some more at my humor. It’s a viscous cycle to be sure but the truth is, I don’t need any help in dealing with Harley owners nor do I need any help in getting them to send me email. They do that all by their selves.
There’s really nothing I can do to stop the immature and anonymous cut and paste invasions of my work being posted in other people’s sites except to reinforce the fact that it isn’t me introducing these posts nor do I advocate this kind of childish behavior. I don’t get money from your visit, I have no subscription services or members only areas so whether you visit my site or not is inconsequential to me and I’m completely indifferent about the whole affair. If you want to talk, fine, email me. If you want to flame, fine, I’ll put you in your place, especially if you’ve built a life out of self serving lifestyle wisdom gleaned from dealer advertisements and mail order catalogs. If you want to wash your hands of the whole affair or think unkindly of me, then that is fine as well. I assure you I won’t lose any sleep over it. I never have and I never will.
I do not need or seek your approval for what I choose to think or do, a fact which clearly separates me from you (and is subsequently the biggest reason why I don’t (and won’t) ever own a Harley).
And now, with that information laid out plainly for all to understand once again, it is time to review Mr. Kerigson’s humorous and rather ineffectual effort to not only justify his meager existence but to also attempt to validate the rather poor choices which he has made in life so far.
Without fail, Mr. Kerigson falls right into line with the Milwaukee Orthodoxy, marching lock step with the other mentally destitute that drop on bended knee every night to give thanks and praise not to God the Father Almighty, but rather to Willie G. Davidson and The Motor Company. What, you may ask, are these stinky hillbilly automatons giving such reverent thanks and praise for? Why, for the life that they have been most blessed with being able to afford (rather than a life that they had to earn or create through any paltry effort of their own).
Mr. Kerigson’s email is full of the store-bought tough guy persona, the kind of attitude that fits you like a clip-on pony tail and is just as believable. He supplements his argument with the now expected threats of physical violence and tops his point of view with the sexual preference argument (which does nothing but highlight his own insecurity and inadequacies).
It really is quite sad. This poor guy can’t help it, folks, he really can’t so you have to cut him some small amount of slack and offer him a smidgeon of pity in spite of his self-made predicament. If Mr. Kerigson was truly capable of any original thought on his own he wouldn’t be riding a Harley because he wouldn’t have to and that’s one of the more distressing aspects in our contemporary culture. So many people, Mr. Kerigson among them, simply have to ride Harleys in order to be a complete person. They are charismatic invalids, intellectual quadraplegics and social retards who must use a step stool, as it were, to be someone, to stand up and to be noticed. That step stool of choice, is, of course, a Harley Davidson motorcycle. These poor souls are incomplete without their big, flashy, loud bikes because without the bikes to draw attention directly to them, no one would ever notice the riders for the person that they were. Now, if you were to take Mr. Kerigson away from his Harley and separate the two of them with some notable distance in a parking lot, the Harley would still draw attention from people passing by but Mr. Kerigson, in all likelihood, would not. Without his Harley, he is nothing worthy of noticing and after you read his email, you quickly learn that he probably isn’t someone you would want to take the effort to talk to in real life either (let alone spend any considerable amount of time around). This is not Mr. Kerigson’s only shortcoming, just his most obvious one.
Sadly, since God didn’t see fit to give him even a basic entry level personality or the smarts required to have an intelligent, informed discussion, Mr. Kerigson must simply fall back to what he has readily available, which, apparently, isn’t very much more than two fists, a thick skull and a rather short temper. After reading his email, it is patently obvious that Mr. Kerigson has to resort to a gross mixture of abject stupidity and the occasional bit of sheer blind luck to see him through life’s many trials and tribulations. This is an interesting combination to be sure and one that I don’t think works quite that well or near as often as he would like it to.
Case in point, his email to me and my rather stern reply to him.
“Hi Christopher T Shields,”
Hello, Mr. Kerigson.
“Brilliant! Absolutely Brilliant! You have some pretty amusing stickers. Just make sure that helmet is Snell approved so the funeral can be open casket and people like me can marvel at how well the funeral home has covered up the swelling. I bet you can get that GSXR or CBR plastic to fly over 100 yards when you lose control and hit a solid object that is tougher than you (yes there are things out there that are tougher than you)."
Ah! I see that you managed to fuse two well established pieces of double-wide logic into one jumbled together thought. Here you have taken the old hillbilly belief of “you own a sport bike therefore you must ride fast everywhere you go because sport bikes only have one speed and that’s wide open” and laughingly combined it with the traditional Harley knee jerk reflex response of “I hate you. I hope you wreck your sport bike at 160 miles per hour and you get thrown through the air with the greatest of ease and you splat yourself against some large, immovable object and you die a horrible painful death and you go to hell and you die, you great big stupid mean old poo-poo head.” Wonderful! If that’s the best retort that you can muster, Mr. Kerigson, then I have already won our debate.
Yes, Mr. Kerigson, I freely admit that there are a lot of things out there tougher than I am; however, you are not one of them. Also, unlike you, I don’t pretend to be a badass, make threats or puff up like I’m some leather and metal stud clad peacock protecting its self perceived territory. Now, since we are speaking of “tough,” please allow me to once again point out the most obvious difference between us. Traditionally, one of the most profound points of intellectual divergence in conversational tactics between Harley owners and me is that you will never find me wishing some dire ill fortune upon any Harley owner, no matter how loathsome they choose to conduct their business with me, let alone wish ill luck on another fellow rider (regardless of what they ride) just because they have a difference of opinion. That is what separates educated, free thinking people like me from ignorant, superstitious Luddites like you. To wish pain and suffering on someone else just because they don’t think like you do so is patently immature and a leading indicator that you have all of the debate skills of an atrophied opossum testicle.
I do not advocate or support violence against any other rider, Harley or import, regardless of their stance on my opinion. That personal belief against violence extends to wishing any of them ill will in the form of being involved in a motorcycle accident or having their toys stolen or broken. Having had my fair share (and more) of automobile and motorcycle accidents, some of them quite severe, I have found the experience of being involved in high speed crashes (both in sports cars and on sport bikes) not to be something to be wished upon anyone, even someone as socially and genetically useless to the rest of the human race as you are, sir. It’s a very distinct difference which separates us, Mr. Kerigson but one I hope you can both recognize and understand. If not, then you’re even dumber than I gave you credit for and that, I assure you, is a considerable amount of dumb (which means that you’ve got plenty of leeway).
I present ideas and provide the logic as well as the historical and physical facts to back up my arguments, hoping to maybe make you want to be smarter and to try to teach you to question everything (while taking nothing for granted especially when someone is trying to sell you something). Failing that, I hope to at least get you to question some of the things in life that you take without questioning, which is a very dangerous mindset to be trapped in for sure. You in turn hope I wreck and die so you can laugh about my sad fate, piss on my grave and then dance a little jig all the while saying “See?! See?! I told ya’ll so! Didna I done gone and told ya’ll so! Goot! Goot! Goot!”
I pity you, Mr. Kerigson.
Truly, I do.
If your email is any indication of your inherent inability to talk to another person on an adult, let alone, an educated level, you must be an overwhelming killjoy to try to have a conversation with in real life (if such “conversation” itself consists of anything more than a bunch of monosyllabic grunts and wild ambulating body gestures mixed with overt crotch self-fondling). No wonder you ride a Harley, you obviously can’t make friends on your own and if you somehow do, it’s my bet that you don’t keep them very long.
“If you aren't big enough to handle a large bike, then don't buy one. Don't piss and moan about the people out there that can maneuver an 800 lb+ motorcycle (Harleys, Valkyries and Goldwings included). Stick to your plastic rice rocket and try to act as cool as possible while riding with your hat backward and your Prada or Gucchi sandals on.”
The reason why I don’t ride 800 pound motorcycles is not because I am unable to ride them, Mr. Kerigson, it is simply because I don’t have to ride them. Now, as for your 800 pound bikes, you’re welcome to ride them all you want, sir. Be my guest, if you’re of the fallible mindset that bigger, slower and heavier is somehow better. I personally believe that there is a finite line drawn in the sand when it comes to basic motorcycle designs and that less really is more. If your motorcycle has a windshield, an AM/FM stereo, CD player, a CB radio, heater, cruise control, intercom system, GPS navigation, heated hand grips, anti-lock brakes, a pair of cup holders, a reverse gear and a variable delay windshield wiper, then you aren’t really riding a motorcycle anymore so much as you have a sliced in half right down the middle luxury car.
The true essence of motorcycling is human and machine, against all odds and against Nature. You can’t get away from it all if you take it all with you when you get away. Somewhere along the way, plebian simpletons like you started mandating that motorcycles should be big and soft, that they should lose their edge and their bite, that they should trade power for noise. Your tender bottoms created a market niche for motorcycles that are more comfortable than some compact cars on the road. You mandated that these 800 pound motorcycles should have lots of storage space, that they should have all the comforts of a car and the cushy feel of your favorite recliner. People like you mandated that motorcycles should get so heavy and awkward to maneuver that they have to be built with reverse gears to get them turned around in a single parking space.
It’s not that I can’t handle an 800 pound bike, Mr. Kerigson, the point is why should I have to or better yet, why would I ever want to do so? I’d a lot rather drive a red Corvette than a big black six wheeled dump truck wherever I went. I don’t need 800 pounds to get from point A to point B or to enjoy my ride. You, on the other hand, just may…
I want power, braking and handling and I want that in the smoothest, lightest, least expensive package I can get. Why should I pay so much money for something so heavy, so underpowered, overweight and outdated as a Harley Davidson when I can pay a lot less money and get a much more powerful, much better built and much easier to handle bike? Do you enjoy wrestling or riding? It’s a hell of a lot easier to maneuver a 400 pound bike than it is an 800 pound bike and chances are, if your 400 pound bike falls over on its side, as motorcycles are prone to doing from time to time, you can pick it up yourself. No wonder Harley owners ride around in large groups, it probably takes five or six of you beer gutted hillbillies to lift one of those cast iron elephants when it falls over. You don’t ride in groups for fun, you ride for mutual help in case one of you drops your bike.
Yes, I ride a 600cc Honda CBR600RR. No, people aren’t going to look at me on a Honda CBR600RR like they would if I was riding an open piped, chromed out HD Fatboy with all the trimmings, but then I didn’t buy my bike to make people look at me, now did I? I bought my bike to ride, and more importantly, to give me the best chance of making it to where I was going and of getting back home again safely. I can’t say the same about any product offered by Harley Davidson.
Why are Harleys so heavy? My guess is that Milwaukee is so far behind the rest of the world that the hillbillies have to make them out of what simple materials they can work with. Working with silicon impregnated aluminum, high density plastic and carbon fiber for Milwaukee would be about as easy as them learning how to magically transmute lead into gold (even though, arguably, they have learned to do just that by selling the junk that they produce for the king’s ransom that it generally demands).
Given Milwaukee’s technology and engineering base (or rather stark absence thereof) I’m surprised that they aren’t at a metallurgy level somewhere slightly behind that of the Bronze Age. I’d love to take a tour of the Milwaukee production plant one day as I have a vision of sweaty, soot covered blacksmiths pumping bellows on furnaces and drawing out red hot pieces of metal to hammer them into shape on a rusty anvil nailed to an old tree stump. Hell, I’m constantly amazed that Harley even figured out the kick start let alone the technology of the electric push start. The kind of meager power that your “engines” produce really don’t require that kind of advanced technology to fire into life. Why, I would think that a simple plastic T-handle and a nylon pull cord would do just fine for starting even the biggest, most powerful Harley engine made.
Now, as for fashion and clothing, I don’t wear my hat backwards, Mr. Kerigson, and I never have (it’s kind of hard to wear a cowboy hat backwards or to the side…). I have made fun of people who wear their hats (or other articles of clothing) backwards for years now. Wearing your clothes backwards is the first sign of mental retardation and may imply some form of latent and previously undetected brain damage as well. Sometimes I get curious as to why someone would wear their baseball cap backwards then walk outside and complain that the sun hurts their eyes. When I explain that a cap was meant to be worn with the bill forward to shield your eyes from the sun, they look at me with the cutest of dumb looks. When I ask someone why they are wearing their hat backwards, they invariably tell me that it’s either “cool” or “the thing to do” for people their age. Wearing your hat backwards shows a clear personal tendency towards readily accepting flock behavior and being susceptible to group social programming, two things I fervently steer clear of in my life, if I can recognize them and subsequently avoid them.
I guess I was brought up differently because never in my life did I think that mental retardation could be socially contagious let alone that it would become fashionable or profitable (but then Harley Davidson has made an empire out of selling just that very thing and done quite well with it to boot)!
I believe the word you are looking for, Mr. Kerigson, is “Gucci” but then I wouldn’t expect an uneducated redneck like you to know how to spell a complicated word like that. I find it humorous that you can’t even spell the name of the fashion company you are referring to correctly (I’m surprised you didn’t spell it “Gootchie”). Hell, I find it even funnier that despite everything that Milwaukee has prostituted its name and logo on, “Hooked on Phonics” still doesn’t have a special Harley Davidson edition available for sale. That’s a real shame because you and so many other HD owners really could benefit from using a product like “Hooked on Phonics.” After all, I’m pretty sure that you and those like you are very close to, if not the original target market for that learning product.
Oh, don’t worry about your spelling! Many, many Harley owners can’t even spell the word “Harley” correctly either (I’ve proven that time and time again with examples from emails from Harley owners over the years) so you’re in rather good company, if you call a bunch of poorly educated, slave to fashion inbreeds “good company” (you probably just call them “family”).
Why is it that Harley owners have such trouble spelling simple words like “Gucci” and “Harley”? Well, I’d have to say that it’s primarily because Harley owners often try to mix pure enthusiasm with sheer stupidity but there is the undeniable underlying fact that Harley Davidson does willingly pander its products to the lowest common denominator in society.
Does Gucci even make sandals, Mr. Kerigson? I honestly don’t know what Gucci has in its available inventory since I don’t own anything made by Gucci (never have and probably never will either). I don’t think I even own a pair of sandals nor would I wear them very much if I did (and certainly not for riding my motorcycle). I prefer boots and failing that, good old American sneakers.
I’m not high on fashion, Mr. Kerigson, nor does it play a big role in my life, quite the opposite in fact. I don’t even wear shorts in the summer and I can assure you, when I ride, I don’t ride in shorts or sandals. Never have, never will because that’s asking to get in the kind of skin destroying accident that requires you to have sex with the lights off for the rest of your life.
Fashion, Mr. Kerigson, is the very nadir of safety. Fashion is no substitute for safety, regardless of what Harley Davidson advocates or what your peers may say. Trust me on this … or not and find out the hard way for yourself.
“And just in case no one in America or Great Britain told you, 5'12" = 6'0". I know Standard measurements are hard to convert from metric so I want to offer this bit of knowledge; 12" = 1'.”
And just in case no one in America or Great Britain told you (and because you obviously haven’t figured it out by now on your own), there is this great little part of human life which we call a “sense of humor.” No, you won’t find it for sale at your local Harley Davidson dealership and you can’t order it out of an aftermarket parts catalog. I’m afraid that a sense of humor is just something that you have to be born with which, in your case, means that you’re SOL in ever getting one. Like a wise man once said, “those who do not have a sense of humor are at the mercy of those who do.” Mr. Kerigson, it’s bad enough that you’re mean and predictable, but the fact that you are humorless as well subsequently makes you a mean, predictable and thoroughly boring human being. You must be a hell of a lot of fun at parties.
“Good luck with your illustrious career as an online t-shirt salesman and I wish you the best of luck with your 1/4 mile stoplight races against Harley riders that don't give a fuck about how fast your $3,000 plastic turd can go.”
I’m not in the T-shirt business, Mr. Kerigson, that is the realm of Harley Davidson and it is one of the few things that keeps The Motor Company afloat year after year, selling T-shirts to the cretins who want so very much to be part of the redneck wetdream yet can’t afford to buy into it at anything other than the simplest entry level. When I say that Harley Davidson prostitutes their logo on everything under the sun, that isn’t an idle reference. Harley Davidson has put their logo and name on anything that would make them a dollar. It’s how they survive in a world that has left them decades behind in every category; they survive by selling a piece of their soul.
I enjoy working with my hands, making items and art out of a variety of materials, and expressing myself as I can, using my imagination and my education to create new works and new expressions. For me, creating and selling T-shirts is simply a hobby that I enjoy. The fact that people around the world are wearing my shirts makes me smile. The fact that so many T-shirts have sold over the years pleases me in a flattering kind of way because they are handmade. However, selling T-shirts isn’t how I make my living because making t-shirts isn’t all that much of a challenge (nor is it very profitable). The t-shirts I sell are just one of my many hobbies. The fact that you think it is somehow a business let alone my primary source of income amuses me greatly as it shows a very real example of just how you and those like you think. You know the truth, you understand what funds your pagan religion, yet you are unwilling to admit it. It is your kind of thinking that got The Motor Company in the predicament that it is in today and it is your kind of thinking that will keep them there forever, in last place, sucking left hind tit to the rest of the world. It is a known fact that while Harley Davidson can come up with some great T-shirt designs they are unable to come up with any great motorcycle designs.
No, I don’t make a living by selling T-shirts. I work with computers and networks, I work with machines that are based on a branch of technology that you would swear was from another planet if you didn’t think it was downright magical in nature. I work with really cutting edge stuff that would make your walnut sized brain swim with abject confusion, and I make very good money doing so.
Now, as for racing …
I don’t race my bike in traffic or on the street nor do I advocate doing so. Even if I did advocate racing on the street, why the hell would I ever want to race against something as slow, underpowered and cumbersome as a Harley? Let me put it into words that you might could understand.
I own a 2004 Honda CBR600RR and I’m proud of that. The CBR is a bike that my beloved country, America, cannot produce. It’s not that America won’t produce a bike like the CBR, it is simply that it cannot produce a bike like the CBR. Milwaukee can’t even copy the CBR or reverse engineer it and why should they? As long as rednecks like you keep buying the same old crap junk and as long as Milwaukee can't figure out how to compete internationally in motor sports, they have no real need to sink any money into R&D and to build something like the CBR. Nothing Milwaukee sells comes close to the performance or value per pound that the CBR represents, let alone what the larger, much more powerful sport bikes and super bikes represent.
Let me break that down for you.
I own a motorcycle that is powered by an ultra compact, very high output 599cc (36 cubic inch, 0.6 liter) liquid cooled inline four cylinder engine with two overhead cams and four valves per cylinder doing the intake and exhaust chores. My 599cc engine makes 115 horsepower compared to your 1200 plus cc (88 cubic inch, 1.2 plus liter) Evolution (or is that dEvolution) air cooled V-twin which cranks out a pitiful fifty something horsepower. I have half of your displacement and produce twice (or more) your power. I may not produce as much torque as you do (cubes are king) but I have a hell of a lot less weight to push (greater power to weight ratio). My bike, as opposed to yours, is the direct descendent of a long line of race winning designs in the world competition spot light (I’ll understand if you don’t recognize what the word “competition” means but not to worry as neither does Harley Davidson…). My bike is a design that is based on a world class champion. The technology that allowed the RC211V to win on the race track was trickled down to the street and was used to build, from scratch and a clean design sheet, my CBR600RR. Your bike is a copy of a design that was considered "old" fifty years ago.
My CBR uses advanced cutting edge technology that has trickled from a series of super aggressive racing development programs used to win consistently on the world’s finest tracks all the way down to products being sold in the showroom and consequently, to the products used on the street. The exhaust note of my bike is also ultra-quiet, not the blah blah blah of a poorly engineered irrigation pump rushed into hasty service almost a century ago as a stop gap (at best) motor for a rusty old bicycle frame. I love how your beloved engine always sounds like it is trying to (barely) keep alive and stay lit with each rotation of its crankshaft. I take pride in the quiet nature of my bike and the powerful though subdued exhaust note as it moves confidently, assuredly through traffic. The exhaust note that my bike produces does not annoy other motorists or rattle windows for two blocks all around it like your typical Harley Davidson (whose exhaust note is reminiscent of two wild elephants engaged in some truly mind blowing coitus, though often being much louder in nature with nowhere near as much majestic harmony). The exhaust note of my 115 horsepower machine does not drown out the stereo of the car to each side of me like the exhaust note of your fifty-something horsepower V-twin does.
For what it is worth, my CBR cost around seven grand, after the down payment I presented and a special discount from Honda during their yearly Big Red Sale. I’m sure you paid a lot more for your bike but then total price, as you may not know, has never truly been an indicator of actual worth received.
I’m curious, Mr. Kerigson …
What did you get for all of that money that you spent? It seems like an awful lot of money to spend, far more than I spent, so, according to the typical Harley owner logic, your bike should be much better than my bike in all aspects of the spectrum, from performance to handling to ride comfort to durability. If you didn’t get performance, build quality, power, braking or handling, then what exactly did you get for so much extra money? You didn’t get the end product of a decade of consistent winning. You didn’t get the end product of a long line of careful thought, exact science and precision engineering.
So what did you get, Mr. Kerigson?
If you paid
a world class price but didn’t receive world class … well, world class anything
(except world class obsolescence) … what did you actually receive for your hard
earned money spent?
Oh, I’m sure that you have a lot more style and a lot louder exhaust sound than I did, but really, what are those worth in the real world? The REAL world, sir. The exhaust of a Harley can be likened to the music career of Milli Vanilli and Ashley Simpson, it’s lip syncing to a beat that doesn’t belong to it. It is the sound of power without any real power behind the sound. The truth is that style and noise are worth nothing in a world ruled by physics and mathematics. They are worth nothing to people who truly understand how motorcycles are supposed to be built and what they are supposed to do.
Now, as I have said many, many times before, I do not race my Honda on the street or the highway. That’s suicide (especially with all the Lamar county drivers on the road). Mr. Kerigson, let’s be perfectly honest, shall we? Why would I ever want to race a Harley when there isn’t a Harley made stock for stock that can beat my little, teenie tiny 599cc CBR? The term “taking candy away from a baby” comes to mind, especially if money is involved as a bet on the outcome of the race.
What a ridiculous notion you entertain! Race a Harley!? I don't race Harleys because not even the V-Rod, your most powerful stock Harley, can beat my little 600 in a heads up run from stop light to stop light, down the quarter mile at the track or on the curves in an endurance race. If your V-Rod can't beat a 600, it's a sure bet that any 750, 1000 or larger sport bike is going to hand you your ignorant (and surprised) ass as well and in far quicker order than I ever could.
How do I handle Harley owners in traffic?
Do I race them? Do I pull up next to them and demean them and their choice in motorcycles?
What I do to Harley owners in traffic is far worse…
I ignore them.
For the most part, if I don’t bust out laughing out loud at them. Yes, I ignore you cretins because that is what you hate the most. You can’t stand to be ignored. You want to be seen, you have to be heard and that’s why you buy big shiny bikes with loud pipes and six cubic feet of shining chrome. That’s why you can clearly see a HD bar and shield logo from every angle you look at your body, from your helmet (or lack thereof) down to the boots you wear. Not only that, but you start decorating your bikes like they were some kind of redneck Christmas tree, throwing good money after bad all in an effort to outdo each other.
You want to
draw attention to yourselves, you want to pose, you want other people to admire
you for what you ride, for what you look like. When someone on another bike,
let alone a bike that would blow yours into the weeds without little or no
effort, completely ignores you no matter what you do to try to impress them.
What makes you even madder is when the other rider goes as far as to laugh out
loud at your ape-like antics in traffic … oh, that really pisses Harley riders
like you off because not only can you not stand to be ignored but you can’t
stand it when someone sees through your make-believe life.
You live for attention and stares, it’s the only reason why you own something as ridiculous as a Harley. How dare someone ignore you and your big shiny, loud American made air cooled, rumbling Harley Davidson Freedom Machine! You paid a lot of money to be different than the normal people and to dress just like everyone else on a Harley! You paid a lot of money to get noticed and people had damn well better give you the proper respect that your hard earned dollar bought you.
People like you, Mr. Kerigson, are truly sad individuals.
“And "oh my god" this Harley has Japanese parts on it!!!! It's less American than a Honda POS!!!! It leaks so much oil!!!! I better buy rice!!!! I've heard that excuse from every rice owner I've met... Pull your head out of the sand... my Harley leaks far less oil than any piece of shit Jap cruiser I've run across... every tech that I've talked to in the rice shops bitch about how much oil the "amazing" Japanese motorcycles piss themselves with. The AMF days ended over 20 years ago, so you can drop that stereotype that every American motorcycle leaves a puddle of oil to mark its territory.”
Well, you obviously haven't talked to very many import techs and you certainly don't know the history of Harley Davidson very well.
A lot of people talk badly about the AMF years but AMF did one good thing for
Harley Davidson; it gave them the Evolution engine. The Evo was a product of the
AMF years, not realized until later, mind you, but without AMF, Harley would
still be building motorcycles today with rattletrap engines that could barely
last 20,000 miles of gentle use let alone flogging them on a regular basis.
The Evolution engine, almost overnight, took Harley Davidson from having a
20,000 mile engine to having a 100,000 mile engine. This only proves my point
that people who make and design bowling balls know more about making motorcycles
than Milwaukee ever will.
“A couple t-shirt ideas for your dumbass: "If I wanted to make a lifetime career of helping 19 year old dumbfucks commit suicide, i would have opened a Suzuki dealership."
Ah… no, sorry. Your design is rejected because once more you are expressing your opinion that anyone not like you should be unfortunate enough to suffer a horrible accident and die a painful death. Again, Mr. Kerigson, you simply prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that you are a pathetic, predictable, and humorless scrotum monk replete with a personality that God wouldn’t think was fair to give to a telemarketer.
"Just because you can create a webpage with Frontpage, doesn't mean you should."
No. No, no, no. I’m afraid that I’m going to have to reject that design also because it is simply neither funny or factual, two things often required for a successful joke to be completed.
Hey! I’ve got an idea! How about I create a custom T-shirt just for you, Mr. Kerigson? Sure! Check this design out:
On the front of the T-shirt, I’ll have a portrait of Willie G. Davidson, you know, the one where he has that big full Aslan-like lion mane / beard (or maybe it’s just his sideburns that have been permed one time too many). Yeah, the portrait we all know and love so well, the picture of him with his little designer aviator glasses and his cute little trendy and oh so fashionable black beret with the HD wings pin. Above the portrait, I’ll have a big finger pointing down from above and in text above the finger I’ll put the words “I’M WITH STUPID” in great big bold letters so that everyone will know what kind of company you run with.
Proposed custom graphic
On the back of the T-shirt, I’ll have an even larger set of text which says: “GIVING A HARLEY OWNER ACCESS TO EMAIL IS LIKE GIVING A NEANDERTHAL ACCESS TO A MICROWAVE.”
“By the way, the cool Japanese "saying" that you have
on your plastic really says "stupid round-eye actually bought this piece of
shit", not "I'm a cool metrosexual on a fast bike" like you thought when you
were buying the bike.”
I was wholly unaware that my Honda CBR600RR had a Japanese “saying” (what educated people refer to as “Kanji”) anywhere on the body panels but since you couldn’t tell a CBR from a PBR, I doubt even you know what you’re talking about. Sigh. I know it is a monumental effort to ask from you, but could you, for just once in your life, try not be so ignorant and stupid all the time? Please? I swear that every time you open your mouth, the collective IQ of the immediate area you are standing in must drop by five whole points (which probably annoys the ever living hell out of anyone unfortunate enough to be standing near you when it happens).
I see that you reference the term “metrosexual” in your diatribe several times.
I find the term “metrosexual” to be
outlandishly funny and here’s why…. Somewhere, along the line, in the tepid
cesspool that we call “pop culture,” it became a very bad thing, a very
unfashionable thing, a very unpopular thing to be a “real” man. In fact, over
the last few decades, we have seen a very strong transposition of gender roles,
from the strong male to the weak yet kind, gentle, caring and understanding
male. We have also seen the weak yet kind, gentle, caring and understanding
female grow into a ball bearing strong woman. “Boys will be girls and girls will
be boys …” as the old Kinks song “Lola” goes.
Twenty, hell, even ten years ago a heterosexual male who couldn’t get a date with a heterosexual female wasn’t called a “metrosexual.” They were called a “loser” and the only source they had to turn to for advice on dating was either the Letters section of that month’s Penthouse or their Nintendo video game system at home.
Today, our country is so screwed up that we have heterosexual males seeking out the fashion and dating advice of homosexual males all in order to be considered more attractive to heterosexual females. I think that a heterosexual male seeking the advice of a homosexual male on how to be a better heterosexual male is irony redefined. The idea that a genre of men could devolve into needy, whiney metrosexuals is hilarious and it just goes to show how wimpified the American male has become over the last few years (and Harley Davidson itself is a big part of that wimpification / societal neutering of the red blooded American male). We’ve gone from a nation wanting to be like John Wayne to a nation wanting to be like George Michael.
Has the red blooded American male become so far diluted in testosterone that he now needs to ask a homosexual male advice on how to be a better, more successful heterosexual?
Does anyone else just not see the hilarious and ludicrous irony presented there?
Think about it… if you
meet a beautiful woman at a bar and follow her back to her place,
that's a good thing. However, if you go into her bathroom and discover most of the fashion
and beauty products in her bathroom are the same ones you
have back at your place, then one of you needs help.
A heterosexual male asking a
homosexual male for advice on social fashion and dating techniques in order to
attract women is like a divorced man asking a pedophile for advice on raising
his child and how to be a better father. It just defies
both common sense and logic.
I am not a “metrosexual,” Mr. Kerigson.
I am a misanthrope.
We will now discuss what
that means …
“The little rant about your partner Keith telling off a Harley rider is cute but so full of shit it's funny.”
Well, since the story involves a “partner” named “Keith” (and I don’t personally know any “Keith,” have a “partner,” or let alone ride with anyone named “Keith” nor have I ever ... ) then I’d have to say that whatever story you read (obviously not from my site) is just like you said; full of shit. I do find it hilarious that people try to somehow buddy up to me and live my life through their own recollections as if we had somehow done wild and wonderful things together but the truth is that most of my adventures were experienced by me alone. This isn’t the first example of someone writing themself into the picture of one of my tales and I’m sure it won’t be the last either. I find it somewhat flattering and somewhat disturbing at the same time.
Now, as far as this story you are referring to goes, honestly, I have no idea what you are talking about. I ride alone, Mr. Kerigson. I have no riding partners, nor am I looking for one or more people to ride with or some group to join and belong to on a regular basis. I am a misanthrope and a loner by nature, I have no friends nor do I need any. I don’t require social interaction with other people in order to be complete or to have fun. People tend to get in the way of how I like to live my life, people crowd my style and large groups of people tend to try to carry me along with them. I refuse to be part of the bewildered herd. People are needy, selfish and always seem to want something that is contrary to what I want and they often want it at inopportune times that contradict my own personal schedule. Their schedules and habits always seem to interfere with my own, and I just can’t tolerate that. I choose to avoid societal conflict by separating myself from the problem itself.
I am a misanthrope, Mr. Kerigson. You can go and look that word
up if you are unfamiliar with it.
I’ll also understand if being a misanthrope or a loner is a rather difficult concept for you to understand, given your flock minded nature and your inherent need to be liked in order to be happy. Being a loner simply means that I go where I go. I ride by myself, and I do what I want when I want. I answer to no one and no time schedule. It’s a personal choice, not an unfortunate circumstance.
Will I shout a Harley owner down in public? Absolutely! I have spoken to many Harley riders and put them in their place, publicly, when they thought to use some of their ignorance on me or to try to ridicule me and my bike choice. The point is, they started the argument. I finished it. You have to engage me, Mr. Kerigson. I don’t pick fights, but I invariably finish them, much to the shame and the rather obvious chagrin of people like you.
I’m not scared of you or your kind, Mr. Kerigson. . . never have been and never will be. You are all sheep in wolf’s clothing, nothing more. You are just like the bikes that you worship-all noise, no guts.
“First of all, 99% of motorists don't give a fuck what some crotch rocket metrosexual is telling to a guy on a cruiser (Harley or otherwise). Toot your little horn as much as you want, but the motorists around "Keith" were waiting to see the Harley rider stomp that smart-mouthed little pussy. The saving grace was that Keith's inline-four quickly propelled him away from the wrath of the 5'16" (which in America or Great Britain would equate to 6' 4") Harley rider that was about to show him what "near-death" really means.”
Jumping Jesse James on a chrome pogo stick with made in China leather tassels!
Six foot four inches?!
I didn’t know that you could stack shit that high without it falling over and coming apart but, I guess if a bunch of hillbillies can build a gas powered turd like a Harley then anything is possible these days in redneck fantasy land that we lovingly call "Milwaukee." I laugh when some Harley rider tells me that they’re tough, because it’s so ludicrous. If you were tough, Mr. Kerigson, you wouldn’t be riding a Harley. You ride a Harley, because you aren’t tough. You ride a Harley, because you aren’t a bad ass. You can’t be a bad ass on a Harley because Harleys aren’t bad ass bikes. Riding a Harley and claiming to be a bad ass is like a riding the mechanical horse at the entrance to Wal-Mart and claiming to be a real cowboy.
Also, the “5’16” attempt at reverse humor really does fall flat. There’s no
humor there, you see, because it’s not meant to be funny, only spiteful. Alas,
since you were born without a sense of humor, perhaps it is best if you left the
funny parts of the conversation up to those who not only have more experience in
the matter but also to those who are better accomplished at pulling it off.
Humor should be funny.
Yours is just painfully inept.
“In the future, Power Ranger, think of this. Most motorcyclists are happy to see a fellow motorcyclist on the road. That means there is one more person that shares the joy of two wheels and the liberty associated with that. If that other person pushes some bullshit attitude (my rice is so much faster than your corn), they quickly become just another asshole on the infinite highway of assholes.”
The only bullshit attitude on display here is yours, Mr. Kerigson. Your store bought “I own a Harley and I’m a bad ass” attitude mixed with the ill wishes you transfer to anyone not exactly like you is as laughable as it is transparent. Your fervent wish that anyone not like you or not riding what you like should suffer a horribly painful death is unforgivable but it does go to illustrate the kind of person that would swear allegiance to something as ridiculous as Harley Davidson.
You speak of stereotypes yet you boldly step up and show just how much of a stereotype you truly are. It is people like you who not only caused me to produce this site in the first place oh so long, long ago but it is people like you who also keep it going through your input. I want to thank you and those like you, Mr. Kerigson, for the many years of laughs which you have provided me as well as the scary thought that there is a large portion of the culture out there who not only stopped thinking for their selves long ago, but who actually may never have been capable of original thought in the first place.
“Thank you for putting on a shirt what I always thought a narrow-minded retard would put on a shirt.”
-Another American Harley Rider
And thank you for saying
in your email exactly what every other uneducated, inbred redneck Harley owner
has been telling me for more than twelve years now. You have said nothing
original, Mr. Kerigson, you have said nothing thought provoking or even
intellectually stimulating. You have merely recited the mantra of your pagan
religion in a futile attempt to justify your pathetic existence.
Yes, not only are you are the typical Harley owner, Mr. Kerigson but you’re also a natural Bjorn loser.
Christopher T. Shields
-A Honda riding American