I’m Just Here for the Vibraphone Solo

I’m Just Here for the Vibraphone Solo

The TT Isle of Man motorcycle race is now a “A THING.” It’s interesting to consider how a thing becomes “A THING.” The Kentucky Derby was once a horse race. Now it’s an event that transcends the reason it exists. The Super Bowl is only vaguely about football. Then again, the NFL doesn’t have much to do with football the rest of the season, either.

So it’s 1968, and a bunch of guys dressed like Emma Peel push their bikes across the starting line and go bombing around the Isle of Man. It looks like a blast. There’s not a lot of separation between the riders and the crews and the onlookers. It’s a picnic with race in the middle of it. Now it’s an international happening. How’d that happen?

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Ask No Quarter. Show No Quarter

Ask No Quarter. Show No Quarter

Well, posting a good Russian driving extravaganza here at the BSBFB is long overdue. Video compilations of Russian car wrecks have a certain appeal that’s transnational.  Everyone everywhere likes to see someone worse off then they are, and everyone in the video is worse off than everyone.

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Yeah, It’s a Ferrari Factory. Yeah, You Want to Work There

Yeah, It’s a Ferrari Factory. Yeah, You Want to Work There

I must have seen a million pictures of the offices where the Internet’s giant companies keep their minions. Keeriste, grow up. They’re all filled with playpens and ball crawls and juice bars and romper rooms. They’re smeared with dreadful primary colors and spangled with motivational posters that wouldn’t motivate a tweeker to shimmy.

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