I'm not advocating indiscriminate U-lock justice. I'm not in the least bit advocating instigating violence.

But we're the ones getting honked at from behind while in the bike lane.


We're the ones getting run off the roads and killed.

We're the ones who get blamed when some fucking oblivious cagers kills a cyclist with a right-hook, then gets no charges filed against them.

We're the ones under attack out there on the roads.


You. Cager.

The one in the personal automobile.

Your choice sucks. And you're killing the planet. And we're fighting wars in order to keep your car running.

The one that's killing you slowly, and killing us rather quickly and messily.

Rearrange your lifestyle. Make better choices. But if you insist on keeping your fucking cage, SHARE THE FUCKING ROAD GRACIOUSLY, PAY ATTENTION, AND STOP RUNNING US DOWN!

Personally, I'd like to see the laws written like they are in Holland:

in the Netherlands, a driver is presumed to be negligent in any collision involving a cyclist, unless the driver can introduce evidence rebutting that presumption.

Start fucking being less oblivious, cagers.

You hit another cager from behind, you're presumed to be at fault. Why shouldn't cagers be presumed to be at fault when they hit a pedestrian or cyclist? I see no reason that people should be legally allowed to be oblivious when piloting a 4,000 weapon around in public.

Yes, I'm demanding higher standards just for the privilege driving around, BURNING GASOLINE, getting weaker and unhealthier, poisoning the air. Suck it up and deal.

Start seeing bicyclists. Stop fucking honking at us when we're taking up the full lane as is our right as a vehicle.

Because an American soldier (and who knows how many impoverished, brown-skinned locals) just died to keep your fucking cage ferrying your lazy ass around AT HIGH SPEEDS. You fuckers are in such a fucking hurry, you're so fucking impatient, and having to slow down behind a bicycle sends you into paroxysms of confusion and rage.

TOO FUCKING BAD! WE'RE NOT AT WAR TO POWER MY BIKE, CAGERS! YOUR OBSESSION WITH NOT BEING IMPEDED IN YOUR FORWARD MOMENTUM, EVEN FOR A MOMENT, BORDERS ON THE OBSCENE! EVERY OUNCE OF PRESSURE YOU PUT ON THE GAS-PEDAL = A CUPFUL OF SOMEBODY'S LIFEBLOOD HALF A WORLD AWAY!

AND I'M THE FUCKING BAD GUY FOR SLOWING YOU DOWN?

We're fucking sick and tired of taking shit from you and your gas-burning, poison-spewing, muscular-atrophy-inducing cage. We're fucking sick of your aggression and your horns and your "GET OFF THE ROAD!"

FUCK YOU! STOP KILLING US!

I'm not advocating instigating violence. But if you try to crowd me off the road, well... I do make it a habit of locking up my bike with a U-lock that's QUITE HEAVY at one end. And physics goes both ways, suckers.

</ANGRY_RANT>

Previously in O,DIKTO?:

-This is how I roll

-Team Wonderbike: have you taken the pledge?

-I, Cracker

-Laughing from the sidelines

-Done. Over. Last link to the dinosaur-burner is CUT!

-If I can't bike with a broken collarbone... [MAJOR anti-personal-automobiles rant]

-I don't want to hear about running privately owned cars on alternative fuels

-# Automobile = Pollution, Terrorism, & Jellybutt

clipped from kunstlercast.com The KunstlerCast is a weekly audio program about the tragic comedy of suburban sprawl. Featuring: James Howard Kunstler, author of "The Geography of Nowhere", "The Long Emergency" and other books. Duncan Crary, host/producer, speaks with Kunstler weekly about the failure of suburbia and the inevitable end of this living arrangement with no future. I believe a lot of people share my feelings about the tragic landscape of highway strips, parking lots, housing tracts, mega-malls, junked cities, and ravaged countryside that makes up the everyday environment where most Americans live and work. - James Howard Kunstler, from The Geography of Nowhere Attention First-Time Listeners The KunstlerCast is an ongoing conversation unfolding in no particular order. But some installments are better entry points than others. Try starting with show #8, #10, or #6.

Previously in O,DIKTO?:

-The Power of Community: How Cuba Survived Peak Oil

-Things That Can't Go On Forever... DON'T

-James Howard Kunstler & "The Geography of Nowhere"

-We're Running Out. And We Don't Have A Plan

-Not with a bang, but a whimper: the collapse of suburbia

clipped from gothamist.com Another Critical Mass ride, another stunning display of police brutality. Watch as one of New York's finest violently shoves a cyclist off his bicycle, launching him through the air to the curb at 46th street and Seventh Avenue during Friday night's monthly Critical Mass ride. A representative for TIMES UP! tells us that the cyclist in this video was arrested, held for 26 hours, and charged with attempted assault and resisting arrest. One other cyclist was ticketed Friday night for riding outside the bike lane, which is not actually illegal and often necessary, considering how popular bike lanes are for double parking. UPDATE: MyFoxNY that the police officer in the video--22-year-old Patrick Pogan--has been stripped of his badge and gun and the NYPD has "placed the unidentified officer on desk duty pending the outcome of a department investigation." The bicyclist, Christopher Long, has not commented, but his lawyer said, "The video speaks for itself."

Previously, in O, DIKTO?:

-Dude, don't tase me (or my new wife)!

-It's Kojak for the 21st century West.

-Goons with badges hate cameras: D.C.

-Police Riot in LA called "Worst in 37 years" by Chief Bratton

Goons with badges hate camers: Miami

Goons with badges hate cameras: Oakland

YOU BELONG IN A CAGE FOR DRUNK DRIVING AND MANSLAUGHTER, YOU OVER-PRIVILEGED, ENTITLED BIMBO!!!

Guess who's facing 21 years in prison — the drunk , rich, white one, or the sober, poor, black one?

Two cars collided last year on Cinco de Mayo.

Considering the date, you might assume that at least one of the drivers was drunk — and you'd be right. Laura Varker was 17 years old, and she'd been tubing down the Salt River all day with her eight best girlfriends. Their T-shirts all read "Cinco de Drinko." Even an hour after the accident, Varker's blood-alcohol level was 0.09, over the legal limit for adults. And, as an underage driver, she was in violation of the law by having any amount of alcohol in her system.

One of Varker's girlfriends, 15-year-old Felicia Edwards, didn't drink a drop*. But it was Edwards who died when Varker's Yukon Denali hit another car and flipped over and over like a tumbleweed before coming to a horrifying stop on the Bush Highway north of Mesa. Edwards was thrown from the SUV and pronounced dead at the scene.

When sheriff's deputies called Felicia's mother that terrible day, her first question was, "Was she wearing a seat belt?" She wasn't. Instead, Felicia had been in the back of the SUV holding down the tubes — a decision she paid for with her life.

That's a tragedy.

But only in its aftermath did the collision become a travesty. That's because, even after blood tests showed that Varker was legally drunk, and even after sheriff's investigators learned that it was she and another girl who'd flashed a fake ID and bought Coors Light and malt liquor for the group, Varker hasn't been charged with anything.

Not underage consumption.

Not drunken driving.

And certainly not manslaughter.

Instead of charging the affluent white girl, the sheriff's officers arrested the other driver, a black man, a guy who wasn't even legally drunk.

Bryant Wilkerson was a 28-year-old postal service clerk with nothing on his record worse than a fender-bender. That day, he was merely making a U-turn, in a place where U-turns are permitted, when a 17-year-old party girl in her daddy's SUV tried to speed around him.

Wilkerson's life has been upended. He's been charged with nine felony counts, including manslaughter and aggravated assault. He spent three months in jail because he didn't have the money to post bail, and he lost his job because of that. Now under strict curfew and random alcohol and drug screenings for the past five months, he has to get permission from the court just to attend his daughter's band concerts in the evening.

He's facing 21 years in prison...

The article goes on to point out that Wilkerson should probably take the hit for freaking out and leaving the scene of an accident. Fine.

But the drunken, underage white-girl who uses her daddy's SUV TO KILL HER FRIEND is is all lawyered up and posting to her MySpace page while her friend is rotting in the ground and the sober, brown-skinned working-guy with a daughter making the legal U-Turn is facing 21 years?

Fucking worthless, sack-o-shit, terrorist-loving SUV drivers. It's bad enough that they hate America and want our troops to bleed and die half way around the globe. Chalk up one more dead, mangled innocent on their slate.

Remind me NEVER to go to Arizona for any reason. The jungle-half of my genes are a bit melanin-laced, and the amount of sun down there would only make it worse.**

Via the_urban_monk (although with a monk-like lack of vitriol).

---

* Studies show that it's the non-drinkers who suffer the worst in car accident because they tense up for the hit while the drunks remain loose and fluid.

The lesson seems to be "Don't get into a car as a passenger if you're sober".

** OTOH, the most menacing "Leave this bar, or we will beat your café-au-lait ass down" gaze I ever got was in Lynn, MA, outside Boston. But that's what one gets for going into a local corner bar in a town you're not familiar with.

Fuck it, maybe just don't leave Northern California. I know what neighborhoods and bars to avoid 'round here in the Bay Area.

Sunday, lexica510 & I had the most surreal interaction with the SUV driver who almost plowed into her on her bike. And what started out as a perfectly normal oblivious-sack-of-shit-cager-almost-kills-bicyclist moment got taken someplace racial in a rather inappropriate (and amusing) manner.

Lemme 'splain...

Sunday afternoon Lexi & the Monkey (sounds like a 70s sitcom) were coming back from opening weekend at the new Trader Joe's over on Lakeshore (W00TITY-MOTHER-LOVIN'-W00T!). My collarbone being still injured and my bike still trashed, I was on foot. Lexi's foot being on the road to recovery but with strict instructions from her acupuncturist to stay off it, she was on her bike, pedaling along at the monkey's walking pace, panniers full of groceries.

Here's a map of where we were. Lexi & I were on the SW corner of E 18th St and 3rd Ave, proceeding in a generally SE direction along E 18th.

Now here's an important part. Lexi had a GREEN LIGHT to cross 3rd Ave when she started across. How do I know this? Because I learned to cross streets in New York City and have felt an annoying wait-for-the-light tug on my sleeve for the past 12 years. She crosses at green lights. She just does.

Lexi pedaled out in front of me as I entered the crosswalk. So we have a bicycle AND a pedestrian in the crosswalk with a green light with a "walk" signal at the same time.

Still not sure about the green light part? S'okay, I'll get to that part.

As Lexi is pedaling out in front of me, this massive, black, shiny, gas-guzzling, V8 I-hate-American-troops-&-love-terrorists-passenger-shuttle SUV that was traveling in the opposite direction on East 18th begins to turn left, across 2 oncoming traffic lanes, and attempts to head SW on 3rd Ave.

And the oblivious-sack-of-shit-cager ALMOST PLOWS INTO MY WIFE ON HER BICYCLE AND COMES WITHIN INCHES OF KILLING HER. And Lexi was giving him this look of "Dude, I'm in the crosswalk with a green light. Hello?"

And he kept rolling forward.

Me? I stepped forward, looked him right in the eye with bright-eyed-fury, pointed directly at him, and bellowed at the absolute top of my monkey-lungs, with as much diaphragm and projection as I could remember from my high school musical days...

"HEEEEEEEEEYYYYY!!!!!!!"

Between the two of us trying to get his oblivious-sack-of-shit attention, he stopped INCHES from making contact with Lexi. We were both, as you might guess, rather put out.

Lexi said something on the order of "Hello? Crosswalk, green light."

I heard him reply something on the order of "Oh you did not have a green light." At this point, I remember seeing the signal change from "walk" to "don't walk" as Lexi and he are having this exchange (remember this moment as well, when we come to the discussion of green lights and right-of-way).

As the sack-of-shit-cager continued his turn onto 3rd Ave, as he passed me, I continued bellowing in the most chastising top-volume baritone I could summon.

"CALIFORNIA!

"CROSSWALK!

"LEARN! STATE! LAW!"

And he stopped. And looked at me. And said "Are you telling me that a crosswalk overrides a protected left turn?" (I swear, the "green light" issue is around the corner.)

The monkey-bellows continue pumping. "YOU'RE GODDAMN RIGHT IT DOES, ASSHOLE! LEARN STATE LAW!"

At this point, he makes a second turn into the Walgreens parking lot and rolls up on me in a huff. He starts shouting indignantly back at me about how he had a protected left turn and Lexi's light had to have been red...

BAM! Here's the crux of the issue. If you look at the map, E. 18th runs basically NW/SE at this point. He was heading NW on E. 18th, turning left (across 2 lanes of oncoming traffic) onto 3rd Ave. There is no protected left turn signal where he was turning. There is a left-turn-only lane with arrow painted on the asphalt, but it's just your basic 4-way traffic light.

Not only have I been frequenting this part of Oakland for around 10 years, I went and looked again this afternoon, just to make sure I wasn't insane.

Before he started his turn, Lexi & he were traveling on the same street, in opposite directions. They shared the same green light.

And California State Law is quite explicit on the subject: left-turning vehicles yield right of way to ALL oncoming traffic, even those making right turns. And that DEFINITELY includes bicycles, pedestrians, and combinations of BOTH AT THE SAME TIME!

So the oblivious fucking cager, who evidently took exception to the arm-pointing and top-volume public chastising I was bellowing his direction, suddenly comes at me from out of nowhere with:

"You white motherfuckers think you own the world. I'll kick your cracker ass." And he makes to open the door to his SUV like he's going to get out of it and square off on me.

Immediately, I cocked my hand to my ear and said "What did you say to me?"

"You heard me."

Now, my first reaction was to get all worked up because, well... he took it racial. This was a perfectly normal piece-of-shit, gas-guzzling, environment-polluting, American-troop-hating-cager vs. law-abiding bicyclists & pedestrians interaction, happens every day.

And he took it racial.

But after a second, I thought "Cracker?" That may have actually been the first time I've been insulted that way. Being Filipino/Irish mestizo, I have been in LOTS of situations where I was too dark for my own good. I've gotten "the eye" in Boston bars and informed my party that it was time to leave, and have been told not to mention my Irish half out loud by more inbred pure-strain children o' the sod. (OTOH, when I was in Hawaii, people gave me the benefit of the doubt of possibly being Samoan, and they had a kick-your-ass reputation so I didn't get much hassle).

But this was the very first time I've been called a "cracker".

And I think something else registered subconsciously: this dude was lighter than me, and between the two of us, my sister T-Bird is the dark one. This guy could have showed up at lexica510's family reunion and no one would blink. You could tell me the name on his license read Eston Hemmings and I wouldn't be surprised.

But I'm some cracker ass, keeping him down?

Dude, you're making dangerous, illegal turns while driving alone (technically known as "Osama is my co-pilot") as in an unpatriotic, polluting gas-hog that costs more than my annual take-home pay including tips, while Lexi & I live car-free and get around on foot, bike, and public transit, all the while obeying the traffic laws.

But I think I own the world?

Cager, please! I'm not the one driving our oil wars forward just so I can get my groceries, you lazy, oblivious fuck.

And one more thing. If you come close to running down a man's wife in front of him, do not subsequently make like you're about to exit your weather-shielded, toxin-spewing ego-cage with an aggressive posture, uttering threats.

Because at that point, I will fucking U-lock you into next week.

Earlier today, lexica510 & I saw an H2 with one of those fucking yellow ribbon stickers on the back. It took a HUGE amount of my emotional reserves not to scream when that worthless motherfucker drove by.

Just then, my darling came up with a FUCKING BRILLIANT slogan: "10mpg = Dead American Soldiers".

Ya know what? Not only is that a fucking brilliant slogan, it's a message that we as a nation ABSOLUTELY need to fucking understand and LIVE. And custom vinyl stickers are cheap.

Gonna go order me some. Then I'm gonna go online and find me a list of the lowest mileage models of gas-hogs on the road. Because my dad taught me "Know what you're hunting for before you load your gun."

...FUCK YOU AND YOUR H2!