Special treat of a story was emailed to me today from Stevil Kinevil at www.allhailtheblackmarket.com, on how the dollar Hand UP was born… Disclaimer: I can neither confirm nor deny the validity of this story and the only way I’m not going to believe it is if someone emails me an earlier story(and pic? to firstname.lastname@example.org )
“It was the 1999 Cross Nationals in San Francisco’s Presidio and the lot of us had been raging for days straight. Our races were all over an we were cheering on the elite and pro classes as they showed us amateurs how it was done. I remember when the pro men came though, they were moving so fast that they displaced air, similarly to standing near a train tunnel.
Towards the end of the race I threw a handful of money on the ground for my friends in the back of the pack. My idea, which was originally implemented when I was in high school, was when someone bent over to pick up the cash they would get dog piled. At some point Tim Johnson came through and snagged some of the dough on his way to a third place finish.
Further more, it was at that point I realized you could mock people mercilessly, all the while handing them money. No one could get mad at your heckles because as you were screaming at them to move their fat ass up the hill, you were holding a wad of cash out for the taking.
Thus, the dollar preme was born.”
No matter where it came from it makes for good photo/video ops:
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TJ, Andy Jacques-Maynes, and Dave Towle all confirm my account, so I have that going for me.
BTW, it’s been great commenting regllaruy here for a year. For my fellow commenters, please keep those rants about proper spacing of elipses, how lame Prolly is, and the canned hams coming. Matter of fact you can cut out the other stuff as long as you keep sending me a canned ham every week. Can’t tell you guys how much I look forward to getting a canned ham every Monday morning. It’s my favorite food in the world other than canned bacon. As for Mr. Mackey, somebody tell him that what he needs to cure the numbness is either a noseless seat, or to rub one out once an hour, every waking hour. Either he’ll get the noseless seat and crash f***in’ hard (because you have nearly zero cornering ability with those things) or his wife will totally freak out and leave him forthwith. Either way it should eliminate bikes from his NYT blogging. Oh yeah, and what’s up with the NYT reporters blogging? Isn’t that a bit of inappropriate slumming for that level of society, kind of like if your grandad called you up and asked where he could score some roofies and some X?
I don’t think Stevil had this SSCXWS hand up in mind when he came up with the idea… http://youtu.be/wUVqTYNEGg0