Monday, December 31, 2007

Tuesday, December 25, 2007


yeah, yeah... Merry Christmas

Sunday, December 23, 2007

Last Minute Gift

If you're still stuck on what to get Moveitfred, all he really wants this Xmas is an ipod.

All the best to you and yours this happy, happy, warm, happy season.

Friday, December 21, 2007

TJ's Win

Grab hold of the inspirational, pounding Gladiator music and go buy yourself a Cannondale.


This post could be titled verb-AL too. But I just used that one so...

Anyway, it has been a hard few weeks for the Als. We were supposed to close on our new house last week. We were at the table, but our buyers had a bank document problem. The closing was halted. as a consequence of that, I could not buy my new house, the guy I'm buying from couldn't close on the place he's moving and so on. 5 parties screwed up in that deal. No shit. Dominos! Looks like we'll be moving next week...we'll see.

This all has made my training a bit "scattered" to say the least. I've been slamming out quick 5s in the morning. When I can, I jump on the trainer for a bit in the evening. But as soon as I'm settled, it's back at it in a more organized manner.

And the 08 tri schedule is starting to trickle in. Looks good! I already screwed up though. I've been dying to do the NYC tri. The swim is in the Hudson. It starts up at about 100th and goes down to midtown--DOWNSTREAM. I hear it is really about steering not swimming as the river CARRIES your ass. The rest of the deal is right in Manhattan. Cool. Here's the big BUT: the announcement came out for it at the end of November. I said, "ok, let me do that..." But way lead on to way. Here I am not a month later...I go to the website. Fucker sold out in 1 week. SHIT! Ah anyway, there are plenty of races. More news on my 08 plans as I figure 'em out...

So here's the crux of this post. It's an interesting little linguistic analysis. I shared this with Fred. He wanted no part of my theorizing. See what you think:

"He, like, totally fingered me..."

So I’m on line at the Bagel Boss round the corner when I hear this conversation between the two almost 20 somethings in front of me.

"he, like, totally fingered me"

“No Way!”

Now, let me ask you this, what’s a “total” finger? What’s it being juxtaposed with, a partial finger? Finger fuck with an oral finish? Finger / oral / good ole fuckin’?

Al's theories on “total”:
my thinking is that the “total” here probably refers to one of two things
A) The totality of the act: he fingered her and that, besides some petting and kissing, is all there is to report. (Probably a first time too. This would explain the “no way.”)
B) She came from it. “Total” here describes the depth (orgasm) of her experience. (And I’m still going with the ancillary first time theory.)

One could posit third and fourth theories. These theories would revolve around “total” referring to the level of penetration he achieved with his finger, measured either in terms of knuckles or vaginal cavity. Or “total” referring to a qualitative assessment of the fingering: “totally fingered me” equalling “fingered me very well.” However, I think that these theories—as stand alones—are limited and likely not accurate. My guess is that these operate together as a sub set of the larger “she came” or B theory. In this reading, level of penetration / quality of fingering are related to each other and are contributing factors in the achievement of orgasm. Thus, an unpacking of the language, in theory B, might yield a translation of this sort: “he fingered me so well and so deeply that I achieved orgasm. “


Tuesday, December 18, 2007

Say What?

Merry Christmas! First off, let Wood start off by saying Merry Christmas! Or Happy Chanukah, or Happy Kwanzaa, or whatever the hell you celebrate. Second order of business, let everyone in the blogging world who actually reads this crap (MIF and Al) recognize why no posts have been made from the west coast. The Jablome Family has a new arrival. No, it’s not a new-fangled Vanilla road bike, although that would be nice. Not a BMW 745 however, that is on the Christmas wish list. It’s a Baby Boy!

He was born November 3rd weighing in at 8 lbs 15 oz, 22 inches long and is an eating, sleeping, shitting machine, just like his dad. Most importantly, healthy. This is the first child to the Jablome family and many things are confusing Wood.

For starters, Wood is exceptionally knowledgeable with dogs, all household animals for that matter. Potty training the pets was speedy, straightforward, unproblematic, and took only a few days to complete. Sure there was the occasional catastrophe but for the most part it was a great experience. Not so much with the baby. Wood employed the same established techniques that worked on all the pets, rubbing their nose in the shit. Six weeks old and still no improvement. Can someone help a brother out?

Next, the unvarying crying. Wood has been married for over five years, a few of them pleasant. When the marriage was new, Mrs. Jablome tried to cry to get her way. “I want this, waa waa waa, I want that waa, waa, waa,” she cried. Woody doesn’t play that game. He just elevated his voice and told her where the bear craps in the woods. She soon learned. This baby though, is not paying attention to what daddy is saying. He just cries until you feed him. Wood tried the same approach again and he just keeps crying. Does he not understand who is in charge of this family? Is he deaf? How does one lay down the law? Until this is figured out, the Jablome family will just shove food down the mouth until he pops.

Wood does appreciate all the help the readers (MIF and Al) have to offer. Hope Wood is forgiven for his lack of attention given to this blog as of late.


The ‘08 resolutions are beginning to percolate in ole Al’s head. One comes right to the top. Al needs to be a kinder, gentler worker at the factory. One immediate area in need of improvement, LANGUAGE! Al’s a fucking potty mouth.

Here’s what I’ve gotten from H.R. to help me with this problem:

Number 1
TRY SAYING: I think you could use more training.
INSTEAD OF: You don't know what the fuck you're doing.

Number 2
TRY SAYING: She's an aggressive go-getter.
INSTEAD OF: She's a fucking bitch.

Number 3
TRY SAYING: Perhaps I can work late .
INSTEAD OF: And when the fuck do you expect me to do this?

Number 4
TRY SAYING: I'm certain that isn't feasible.
INSTEAD OF: No fucking way.

Number 5
INSTEAD OF: You've got to be shitting me!

Number 6
TRY SAYING: Perhaps you should check with...
INSTEAD OF: Tell someone who gives a shit.

Number 7
TRY SAYING: I wasn't involved in the project.
INSTEAD OF: It's not my fucking problem.

Number 8
TRY SAYING: That's interesting.
INSTEAD OF: What the fuck?

Number 9
TRY SAYING: I'm not sure this can be implemented.
INSTEAD OF: This shit won't work.

Number 10
TRY SAYING: I'll try to schedule that.
INSTEAD OF: Why the fuck didn't you tell me sooner?

Number 11
TRY SAYING: He's not familiar with the issues.
INSTEAD OF: He's got his head up his ass.

Number 12
TRY SAYING: Excuse me, sir?
INSTEAD OF: Eat shit and die.

Number 13
TRY SAYING: So you weren't happy with it?
INSTEAD OF: Kiss my ass.

Number 14
TRY SAYING: I'm a bit overloaded at the moment.
INSTEAD OF: Fuck it, I'm on salary.

Number 15
TRY SAYING: I don't think you understand.
INSTEAD OF: Shove it up your ass.

Number 16
TRY SAYING: I love a challenge.
INSTEAD OF: This fucking job sucks.

Number 17
TRY SAYING: You want me to take care of that?
INSTEAD OF: Who the fuck died and made you boss?

Number 18
TRY SAYING: He's somewhat insensitive.
INSTEAD OF: He's a prick.

Friday, December 14, 2007


Players named in Mitchell report

Thursday, December 13th 2007, 7:30 PM

A list of players named in the Mitchell report (with 2007 team):

Chad Allen, OF (played in Japan)
Rick Ankiel, OF (Cardinals)
David Bell, INF (last played for Brewers in 2006)
Mike Bell, INF (retired)
Marvin Benard, OF (retired)
Gary Bennett, Jr., C (Cardinals)
Larry Bigbie, OF (played in minors)
Barry Bonds, OF (Giants)
Ricky Bones, P (retired, former Yankee)
Kevin Brown, P (retired, former Yankee)
Paul Byrd, P (Indians)
Ken Caminiti, 3B (deceased)
Jose Canseco, OF (retired, former Yankee)
Mark Carreon, OF (retired, former Met)
Jason Christiansen, P (retired)
Howie Clark, INF (Blue Jays)
Roger Clemens, P (Yankees)
Paxton Crawford, P (retired)
Jack Cust, DH/OF (A's)
Brendan Donnelly, P (Red Sox)
Chris Donnels, INF (retired, former Met)
Lenny Dykstra, OF (retired, former Met)
Bobby Estalella, C (retired, former Yankee)
Matt Franco, INF (retired, former Met)
Ryan Franklin, P (Cardinals)
Eric Gagne, P (Red Sox)
Jason Giambi, DH/1B (Yankees)
Jeremy Giambi, DH (retired)
Jay Gibbons, OF (Orioles)
Troy Glaus, 3B (Blue Jays)
Jason Grimsley, P (retired, former Yankee)
Jose Guillen, OF (Mariners)
Jerry Hairston, 2B (Rangers)
Matt Herges, P (Rockies)
Phil Hiatt, 3B (retired)
Glenallen Hill, OF (retired, former Yankee)
Darren Holmes, P (retired, former Yankee)
Todd Hundley, C (retired, former Met)
Ryan Jorgensen, C (Reds)
Wally Joyner, 1B (retired)
Mike Judd, P (retired)
David Justice, OF (retired, former Yankee)
Chuck Knoblauch, 2B (retired, former Yankee)
Tim Laker, C (retired)
Mike Lansing, 2B (retired)
Paul Lo Duca, C (Mets)
Nook Logan, OF (Nationals)
Josias Manzanillo, P (retired, former Met and Yankee)
Gary Matthews Jr., OF (Angels)
Cody McKay, C (retired)
Kent Mercker, P (last played for Reds in 2006)
Bart Miadich, P (retired)
Hal Morris, 1B (retired, former Yankee)
Daniel Naulty, P (retired, former Yankee)
Denny Neagle, P (retired, former Yankee)
Rafael Palmeiro, 1B (last played for Orioles in 2005)
Jim Parque, P (retired)
Luis Perez (former bullpen catcher for Expos)
Andy Pettitte, P (Yankees)
Adam Piatt, OF (retired)
Todd Pratt, C (last played for Braves in 2006)
Stephen Randolph, P (Astros)
Adam Riggs, INF (retired)
Brian Roberts, 2B (Orioles)
John Rocker, P (retired)
F.P. Santangelo, OF (retired)
Benito Santiago, C (last played for Pirates in 2005)
Scott Schoeneweis, P (Mets)
David Segui, 1B (retired, former Met)
Gary Sheffield, OF (Tigers)
Mike Stanton, P (Reds)
Ricky Stone, P (Reds)
Miguel Tejada, SS (Orioles)
Derrick Turnbow, P (Brewers)
Ismael Valdez, P (last played for Marlins in 2005)
Mo Vaughn, 1B (retired, former Met)
Randy Velarde, INF (retired, former Yankee)
Ron Villone, P (Yankees)
Fernando Vina, 2B (retired, former Met)
Rondell White, OF (Twins)
Jeff Williams, P (retired)
Matt Williams, 3B (retired)
Todd Williams, P (Orioles)
Steve Woodard, P (retired)
Kevin Young, 1B (retired)
Gregg Zaun, C (Blue Jays)

Friday, December 7, 2007

Holiday Greetings from the Bicoastal Boys

The Bicoastals have created a personalized and wonderfully original holiday greeting to wish you all continued health, happiness, and discount shopping now and in the new year.

The Dancing Holiday Bicoastals

Bicoastal Blocked

Moveitfred's pal Extremeski is currently doing time over in the Middle East, undoubtedly working hard to improve East/West relations on all manner of political and social issues. So yesterday Moveitfred sent Extreme an email with a tiny little tidbit of fun, some sort of joke plus link to...oh, perhaps...a gay internet site of one kind or another. Moveitfred really doesn't remember the details beyond it being the kind of random, adolescent joke that helps Moveitfred get through the day.

So according to Extreme Big Brother Basheer got ahold of the email and managed to block the link with the stern warning that the content of the email was "not consistent with the political, moral, religious and ethical values of the United Arab Emirates." Moveitfred is all cool and down with that. Moveitfred's bad. Moveitfred realizes in hindsight that his attempt at a light chuckle could easily contribute to the crumbling of a people that hold together their society with the highest consideration for equality and tolerance and justice.

But here's the thing. Extremeski pointed out to Moveitfred that while she was unable to access the little gay site he sent her, she has no trouble whatsoever busting open the 3Bicoastalboys blog through her Middle East connection.

What the EFF? That's EFFED UP! Boys, Moveitfred is ashamed. Abbud and Fareed can't hold hands and browse GayMart dot com together on their laptop, but they can get their jiggles by perusing the Bicoastals?

Moveitfred feels the bicoastals have completely failed in the mission they set forth to accomplish.

Thursday, December 6, 2007

Monday, December 3, 2007


Seems like everyone is pissing about putting on the holiday pounds. A week ago, Fred was crying about turkey poundage. And Heywood is such a fat ass he can't even run. Poor GVB is suffering joint strain from his increased mass.

Al's just got one thing to say to you all: To all you boys with butts, boobs, hips and a waist...put on a bikini, put it on and stay strong.


And, of course, After:

Friday, November 30, 2007

This Sucks

It is a little known fact that Heywood is training for a 20 kilometer trail run in late December. One problem that constantly arises is his inability to run. The best way to describe his inabilities is to compare him to Moveitfred. Everyone knows Fred looks like a fish out of water when he attempts to pick’em up and put’em down. Those gangly arms flailing about as his feet attempt to propel his 7’2” frame forward. Now imagine that guy is 6’3”, exceptionally attractive and his name is Heywood Jablome. There you have it. Clear as mud?

So Wood has been hitting the trails whenever possible trying to develop this skill. Yesterday, he could be found at the local high school track running some intervals. While running, Wood was feeling pretty down on himself not seeing a marked improvement with his split times. Is this working? Will he ever get faster? Why is he out hear? All these questions were filling up his head causing him to loose motivation. He began to explore the surroundings looking for some inspiration to keep going.

The lard ass eating McDonalds in the bleachers was not exactly inspiring. Neither was the chain smoker walking laps next to Wood. With his hands on his hips ready to quit and go home, Heywood looked up to the skies before something caught his eye. STACEY DRAGILA. Not in person, but her name there on the billboard. That’s right, she went to this high school. She ran on this same track before it was renamed in her honor. She got her start right here in Auburn before becoming a world record holder in the pole vault. Yes, this is what Wood wanted, true inspiration. Placer High School, the land where champions are created. “I can do this,” he thought as images of Stacy Dragila ran through his brain. Those firm thigh muscles flexing as she runs. Those glutes tightening up as she pulls herself up and over the bar while riding a long stiff pole. Yes, Wood is inspired. He picked up the pace. Faster and faster the miles clicked by. Soon, his training objective for the day was complete and it was time to go home. This running stuff is fun.

Thursday, November 29, 2007


AL imparts a "NO SHIT!!??" moment for his listeners

Today, at the factory, Al had a moment that will go down in infamy. I was in my cubicle, meeting with several of the worker-interns that I am charged with caring for. I was reading through the file of one young intern, a young woman of about 20, and making some suggestions to her for improvement. She made a burping sound. I looked up involuntarily but noticed nothing so I continued. She did it again. This time I looked at her and she seemed to be pained. I wondered, "this bitch dyspeptic?" She then made some strange mewling sound and put her hand up to her face. She burped more and her face began to expand. Suddely smoke spewed from her ears and her head began to turn a full 180 degrees. A demonic voice came from her, it screamed, "the sow is mine!"

And then it happened. The demon bitch fouled Al's office. She began to spew projectile vomit like a firehose on full blast being held by a four year old.

All I can say about the experience is this. It was horrid. I handled myself well though: I pulled up my feet and jumped up on the desk like a chick running from a mouse. I managed not to shriek. Instead, in a deep voice I said, "I cast you out unclean spirit in the name of Jesus Christ!"

Later on:

After leaving the factory (and showering with brillo and lye soap), I began my current fav work out: an hour spin (yes, yes,very gay, I know, and fuck all you haters). After my spin, I threw on my run kicks and grabbed the jog stroller. I did a 4 mile course that leads me past my daughter's school. All was staged perfectly so that I could pick her up "on the run," as they say. But I must say this:

I can't stand the way our neighborhoods and schools have gotten. You can't believe, first of all, how difficult it is to navigate the sidewalks with a jogger around here. It is clear that these sidewalks were NEVER for actual walkers / joggers. They are broken every 1/4 mile by telephone poles that make going into the street necessary. Cars are parked on the sidewalk all over the place and no enforcement to stop this goes on. At the school, one gets looks like "what the fuck is wrong with this guy" and requests like "please don't leave the stroller in front." Fred and I were discussing the whole kids riding bikes to school or walking thing the other day. Let's just say this: it ain't happening. It isn't safe, schools don't want it 'cause their lawyers have advised against it, and parents seem programmed to think that transport other than by car is odd and inappropriate. What the fuck has happened?

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

Al Is A Zit

Fat, drunk, and stupid is no way to go through life, Al.

Fix the blog.

Monday, November 26, 2007

Friday, November 23, 2007

comparab-AL ?

So I got myself a Lemond Revmaster a little while back. I ripped that shit saddle that comes with it off and immediately replaced it. I spun off the shit peds and put on my Speedplays. And HOT DAMN! I love it!

I do a lot of indoor biking--late at night or while the kids are coloring on the floor near me or when the weather is crappy. I probably get more miles indoor than outdoor, this time of year. I've never really liked my Kurt Kinetic Trainer. I know it is a good trainer, but I just don't love how loud it is. And you can't stand up and really work on it.

The revmaster is silent...or near to it. And you can beat it. I stand on it and really dig worries. Plus it takes up less room than bike/trainer. And it is direct drive, so it rides like a fixie. In my mind this will be good for my "stroke."

I've been doing these nice duathlons: I spin for an hour then burn out a 5k. Great workout. Should keep me up for next season. But here's my question: how come more bike people don't ride these? I hear about trainers and rollers. I never hear a true blue biker talk about his/her spin bike. Why? Are these activities not comparable?

And while we're on the topic of comparability...I was channel surfing while spinning this morning. I saw this poofta on Regis and Kelly.

Ok, now maybe I'm crazy, but I am starting to believe in reincarnation. Is it me?

Monday, November 19, 2007

USGP Trenton

No time to write something clever and soft and fluffy, so just some random weekend pics.

OK, quick story. Horner was getting freakin' grief from the crowd on Sunday. All in good fun and jest, of course. Pro boy was seriously struggling in the rain and mud and off-camber slop. Most of the race he was bunched in tight off the back with his goon squad and taking the opportunity now and then to sit up and hurl some pointed comments back at the crowd. Fun stuff this cross.

Friday, November 16, 2007

Hard Men

Moveitfred has gathered inspiration from his compatriots these last couple of days.

Tales of epic runs and intestinal implosions.

Breaking and entering into Browntown.

All-night rambles through rugged countryside with men.

Browbeating back The Man.

These are hard men

Doing hard work.

Moveitfred, drawing energy from these stories of great resolve and honor, broke open a sweaty track workout amid biting wind and rain over at the university track last night and just returned from a harsh cross ride out in the raw elements today.

A toast to the hard men.

Moveitfred is busy packing up for the USGP because, as we all know, there is no tastier way to spend a lovely fall weekend than a couple of days in Trenton, New Jersey.

Things just keeping getting worse!

This evening Heywood Jablome met with the fellas for another night ride somewhere in the canyon. This whole riding at night is supposed to be enjoyable, fun and exhilarating, right? Well things were going marvelous for Wood on the fast swooping decent. Then the bottom of the canyon was reached and it was time to scale the other side.

For those of you who have never ridden with Wood, he is not typically the fastest climber in the bunch. Nor is he the slowest, usually. Tonight was the exception. When the trail ascended upwards to the heavens, Heywood was no where to be found. Left breathing the trail dust of others, he just could not get his legs to work. The more miles the group climbed, the worse things got for our pal as the lactic acid kept building. “Both brakes must be locked up or somebody hooked a tow rope to me and I am hauling a car up this hill,” Heywood thought. He stopped, dismounted, and inspected the bicycle for some flaw causing this disaster. NOPE! Perfect working condition. No tow rope either. How demoralizing this ride is turning out to be for Wood. The group was kind enough to wait for him at the top before they proceeded downward.

Trying to get his confidence back, Heywood was going to lead the group down to the bottom. This is one part of riding he loves and always feels very at ease with. While riding at night, signs can be hard to see because of the lack of light. Apparently Wood took a wrong turn and the group followed. Soon they found themselves on a fire road face to face with a pair of headlights shinning at them while on State Park property. Out of the vehicle stepped a State Park Ranger who began to yell. He then lectured them about the hours of operation for this park, illegal trails for mountain bikers, blah, blah, blah. Next he wanted to know everybody’s name. Wood answered politely “Heywood Jablome.”
“WHAT DID YOU SAY,” the park ranger asked in a stern voice.
“I said HEYWOOD JABLOME,” Wood replied.
The ranger ordered the entire group to continue riding except for Wood. As the group rode on, the ranger introduced himself as Dick Gozinya and asked for Wood’s phone number. “Maybe we can go get a drink someone,” the ranger said in a very sweet voice.

Fearing some scene from Deliverance was going to be reenacted here shortly, Heywood leaped onto his steed and rode away with new found speed. Where on earth did the ranger brew this crazy idea that Wood was interested?

When Heywood arrived home, he told his beautiful wife about his lack of climbing abilities on the trail tonight. She said, “at least you were not the last one up the hill, or were you?”

A few more nights like this and Wood will be making the drive to BALCO laboratories for some help.

Thursday, November 15, 2007



It's been a tough couple of weeks for me, folks. My daughter has had walking pneumonia. I was sick for a bit. And I'm in the process of moving. A wee bit of stress, over here.

Last night, I was rushing home at about 6. I had not eaten lunch and was starving. I had a 7 miler on tap. (As an aside, I fucking hate running in the dark. I have a 1 mile loop around my house on a well lit set of blocks that I do at night. I feel like a frickin' gerbil on a Habitrail.) I knew that banging out a 7 with no food in the system was impossible. What to do...

As I sat in traffic, the flashing neon of a local Kosher deli called to me. I'm a big fan of grilled frankfurters, but I rarely eat them. (They're artery clogging rolls of assholes, armpits, and nitrites.) The call was too strong, though. I slammed my rig in park and went in for two dogs with kraut and mustard. Moments later, I was motoring home, changing into my running duds as I drove.

I ran in the house and dropped my bags, kissed the wife and kiddies and headed out the door into the darkness.

3 miles out the rolling and tumbling started in my belly. 4 miles out I was cramping and clinching. By mile 5 I was duck walking and praying for a dark alley or any ill lit spot. At 5.25 it was shit or be beshat. (Now most of you know that I've got "issues." You'd think I'd know better than to down 2 coneys before poundin' out the miles.)

In the near distance was the glow of a Getty sign. Hope sprang eternal. Squeezing for all I was worth and sweating like an H addict out of skag, I waddled into the station. CLOSED! GARRRRRRRR! There was no choice though. I was in CODE BROWN. I struggled around the side and tried the Men's. LOCKED! DOHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! Fuck it. I put my shoulder to the door. It popped open. And the foul receptec-AL called to me.

Al fouled the small stall in grand fashion. Think Dirty Bomb.

It's amazing, isn't it, how alive one feels after that? Singers and film makers have celebrated how nearly dying can make one so alive. How come no one sings about almost shitting him/herself? Might go something like this:

by Al Bangorhard

I'm wide awake and so alive
Spewed my scat like chow

Take me deep out past the lights
Nothing dims these stars

Let me feel the passing of solid waste
Just tip me 'til I capsize
I've been waiting for my whole life
To be broken, open, filth erased

Let me feel the passing of solid waste
Just tip me 'til I capsize
I've been waiting for my whole life
To be open wide

I'm wide awake and so alive
Ringing like a bell
Tell me this is paradise
And not someplace I fell

Let me feel the passing of solid waste
Just tip me 'til I capsize
I've been waiting for my whole life
To be broken, open, filth erased

Let me feel the passing of solid waste
'Cause I'm dying on the inside
Just take me to Browntown
'Til I'm open wide

So wide
So go
I'm wide awake and so alive, alive, alive

Let me feel the passing of solid waste
Just tip me 'til I capsize
I've been waiting for my whole life
To be broken, open, filth erased

Let me feel the passing of solid waste
'Cause I'm dying on the inside
Just take me to Browntown
'Til I'm open wide


Barry Bonds indicted on perjury, obstruction charges
By PAUL ELIAS, Associated Press Writer
Barry Bonds, baseball's home run king, was indicted for perjury and obstruction of justice Thursday and could face prison instead of the Hall of Fame for telling a federal grand jury he did not knowingly use performance-enhancing drugs.

The indictment, culminating a four-year investigation into steroid use by elite athletes, charged Bonds with four counts of perjury and one of obstruction of justice. If convicted, he could be sentenced to a maximum of 30 years in prison.

Shortly after the indictment was handed up, Bonds' personal trainer, Greg Anderson, was ordered released after spending most of the past year in prison for refusing to testify against his longtime friend.

"During the criminal investigation, evidence was obtained including positive tests for the presence of anabolic steroids and other performance enhancing substances for Bonds and other athletes," the indictment said.

In August, when the 43-year-old Bonds passed Hank Aaron to become baseball's career home run leader, he flatly rejected any suggestion that this milestone was stained by steroids.

"This record is not tainted at all. At all. Period," Bonds said.

Bonds finished the year with 762 homers, seven more than Aaron, and is currently a free agent. In 2001, he set the season record with 73 home runs.

Late in the season, the San Francisco Giants told the seven-time National League MVP they didn't want him back next year.

Bonds could not immediately be reached for comment. One of his attorneys, John Burris, didn't know of the indictment before being alerted by The Associated Press and said he would call Bonds to notify him.

"I'm surprised," Burris said, "but there's been an effort to get Barry for a long time. I'm curious what evidence they have now they didn't have before."

Bonds' defense attorney, Mike Rains, declined comment because he hadn't seen a copy of the indictment.

"However, it goes without saying that we look forward to rebutting these unsupported charges in court," Rains said. "We will no doubt have more specific comments in the very near future once we have had the opportunity to actually see this indictment that took so long to generate."

Bonds is scheduled to appear in U.S. District Court in San Francisco on Dec. 7.

Bonds has never been identified by Major League Baseball as testing positive for steroids.

BALCO founder Victor Conte holds a photo of San Francisco Giants' Barry Bonds with the letters ZMA, a drug that Conte makes, on his hat at his office in Burlingame, Calif., in this Oct. 21, 2003 file photo. Bonds was charged Thursday, Nov. 15, 2007 with perjury and obstruction of justice, the culmination of a four-year federal probe into whether he lied under oath to a grand jury investigating steroid use by elite athletes.
AP - Nov 15, 6:10 pm EST
More Photos
"I have yet to see the details of this indictment and while everyone in America is considered innocent until proven guilty, I take this indictment very seriously and will follow its progress closely," commissioner Bud Selig said.

Union head Donald Fehr said he was "saddened" to learn of Bonds' indictment.

"However, we must remember, as the U.S. Attorney stated in his press release today, that an indictment contains only allegations, and in this country every defendant, including Barry Bonds, is entitled to the presumption of innocence unless and until such time as he is proven guilty beyond a reasonable doubt."

The White House weighed in, too.

"The president is very disappointed to hear this," Bush spokesman Tony Fratto said. "As this case is now in the criminal justice system, we will refrain from any further specific comments about it. But clearly this is a sad day for baseball."

Bush, who once owned the Texas Rangers, called Bonds to congratulate him in August when the Giants' outfielder broke the home run mark. "You've always been a great hitter and you broke a great record," Bush said at the time.

Former Senate Majority Leader George Mitchell, who is investigating drug use in baseball, declined comment. So did Hall of Fame vice president Jeff Idelson.

Bonds was charged in the indictment with lying when he said he didn't knowingly take steroids given to him by Anderson. Bonds is also charged with lying that Anderson never injected him with steroids.

"Greg wouldn't do that," Bonds testified in December 2003 when asked if Anderson ever gave him any drugs that needed to be injected. "He knows I'm against that stuff."

Anderson's attorney, Mark Geragos, said the trainer didn't cooperate with the grand jury that indicted Bonds.

"This indictment came out of left field," Geragos said. "Frankly I'm aghast. It looks like the government misled me and Greg as well, saying this case couldn't go forward without him."

Prosecutors promised Bonds they wouldn't charge him with any drug-related counts if he testified truthfully. But according to the indictment, Bonds repeatedly denied taking any steroids or performance-enhancing drugs despite evidence to the contrary.

A fan holds a sign in regard to San Francisco Giants' Barry Bonds during their Major League Baseball game against the San Diego Padres in San Diego, in this Aug. 5, 2007 file photo.  Bonds was charged Thursday, Nov. 15, 2007 with perjury and obstruction of justice, the culmination of a four-year federal probe into whether he lied under oath to a grand jury investigating steroid use by elite athletes.
AP - Nov 15, 5:55 pm EST
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For instance, investigators seized a so-called "doping calendar" labeled "BB" during a raid of Anderson's house.

"He could know other BBs," Bonds replied when shown the calendar during his testimony.

Asked directly if Anderson supplied him with steroids, Bonds answered: "Not that I know of." Bonds even denied taking steroids when he was shown documents revealing a positive steroids test for a player named Barry B.

Bonds said at the end of the 2003 season, Anderson rubbed some cream on his arm that the trainer said would help him recover. Anderson also gave him something he called "flax seed oil," Bonds said.

Bonds then testified that prior to the 2003 season, he never took anything supplied by Anderson -- which the indictment alleges was a lie because the doping calendars seized from Anderson's house were dated 2001.

Bonds became the highest-profile figure caught up in the government investigation, launched in 2002, with the raid of the Bay Area Laboratory Co-Operative (BALCO) -- the Burlingame-based supplements lab that was the center of a steroids distribution ring.

Bonds has long been shadowed by allegations that he used performance-enhancing drugs. The son of former big league star Bobby Bonds, Barry broke into the majors with the Pittsburgh Pirates in 1986 as a lithe, base-stealing outfielder.

By the late 1990s, he'd bulked up to more than 240 pounds -- his head, in particular, becoming noticeably bigger. His physical growth was accompanied by a remarkable power surge.

Speculation of his impending indictment had mounted for more than a year.

Associated Press Writer Chris Weber in Los Angeles contributed to this report.

Monday, November 12, 2007

Bean Team


Is it bad that Moveitfred is currently finishing off his second pot of caffeinated beverage today all by himself? Not second cup but second pot. Drinking alone. Feels good. (and, damn, is the piss pungent)

_____ 1. Yes, bad.

_____ 2. No, fine.

Who turned off the lights?

A few months back Heywood ordered a night light for his mountain bike from a company located right here in the golden state of California. The company, Niterider. The light, Trinewt. The first impression, AWSOME!

The light just arrived at Auburn bike works (the BEST bike shop around) last week. Apparently, backorders from Niterider are common this time of year and Heywood’s experience was similar. Heywood was itching to hit the trails and witness first hand what the big hoopla was about riding after the sun has set.

Victory Velo (the second best bike shop around) holds group night rides every Thursday evening at 6:00pm. The Chef, Big Cat, and the Wood all decided to strut there substance with all the other hooligans. In all, there were 12 riders with balls big enough to tackle the most technical singletrack in these parts.

Getting used to riding in the dark with a large spot light mounted on the helmet takes a little time. The dust kicked up by other riders acts like fog, diminishing the effectiveness of the light. The lack of depth perception allows rocks to quietly sneak up on unsuspecting riders turning the most basic trail into a challenging adventure. Also, the lack of light hides the snipers in the trees who shot Heywood’s front tire out causing him to go over the bars leading with his large head. The whole experience is so freaking fun it is hard to put into words. The group put in about 12 miles on the trail and 5 on the road. Mostly singletrack following the raging river below. You can bet your bottom dollar Heywood will be back again next Thursday with lights shining. There were a few casualties on the ride. One guy had to cut out early; his mom was calling him home. Another had a broken rear derailleur. Fucker snapped clean off. Only problem is the group was dead smack in the middle. 6 mile walk either direction. Wood never has seen so many full-grown men terrified of the night. The guy was quaking in his boots when the thought of walking back alone crossed his mind. Finally, he convinced the Soldier to accompany him and fend off any wild cats they may encounter. Huh, pussies, just cats guys.

And by the way, the Chef rocked this ride. Despite being out of his element when away from the kitchen, he tore it up. All it took in his words was a little synthetic courage (shin/knee pads, elbow pads, chest pad, maxi-pad with wings). Strong work!

So the light worked marvelously. Very bright. Charges in about 4 hours and can last over 7 hours. Wood tried the light on his helmet but wants to try mounting to the handlebars. How many days until Thursday?

P.S. CrankBrothers replaced Heywood’s Candy SL broken pedals, no questions asked. They were back at Casa de Wood in less than a week from the day he shipped them. That is good customer service if you ask him!

Compton Gonna Jack Yo Shit

Straight outta Compton, another crazy ass nigga
More punks I smoke, yo, my rep gets bigger
I'm a bad motherfucker and you know this
But the pussy ass niggaz don't show this
But I don't give a fuck, I'ma make my snaps
If not from the records, from jackin the cops
Just like burglary, the definition is 'jackin'
And when illegally armed it's called 'packin'
Shoot a motherfucker in a minute
I find a good piece o' pussy, I go up in it
So if you're at a show in the front row
I'm a call you a bitch or dirty-ass ho
You'll probably get mad like a bitch is supposed to
But that shows me, slut, you're composed to
a crazy muthafucker from tha street
Attitude legit cause I'm tearin up shit
MC Ren controls the automatic
For any dumb muthafucker that starts static
Not the right hand cause I'm the hand itself
every time I pull a AK off the shelf
The security is maximum and that's a law
R-E-N spells Ren but I'm raw
See, coz I'm the motherfuckin villain
The definition is clear, you're the witness of a killin
that's takin place without a clue
And once you're on the scope, your ass is through
Look, you might take it as a trip
but a nigga like Ren is on a gangsta tip
Straight outta Compton...

Yo, yo, yo...check it, Boyzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!

Ain't nobody, nobody bus the shit out dirty like