Continued From Page 1
VON DUTCH COMES TO BIKERNET–We’re pleased to report that Von Dutch will continue his rebel artistic legacy through a line of products with the classic Von Dutch label and they will be featured in the gift shop of Bikernet.com. We were fans of Mr. Dutch before he left us and are proud to see his legacy continued on the site.
STOLEN E-MAIL FROM THE STAFF AT BIKERNET–Who cares about me. Damn, look at you girl. Yes, a shower would be heaven.To gently stroke your wet, slippery body would be a fantasy coming true.Mmmmm, to take you out of the shower and slowly rub lotion over every inchof you. Paying close attention to the soft area just besides your p**sylips. I would love to suck on your n**ples, then run my tongue down yourbelly as I slide my hands down to lotion your legs. Love, Sin Wu.
At least the morale is high at Bikernet.
I’ll Show You Mine If You Show Me Yours
We need your images! Send us pictures of your tattoos to post and we’ll send you a free Bikernet sticker. All submissions should go to sinwu@bikernet.com. Please be sure to include your address.
Free Dragonfly Shirts!All you have to do is submit your Digital Discovery and be the chosen one. Read how to submit on the Home Page.
We’re looking for one-of-a-kind items or something that just makes us go “Dude, that’s bad!” Images and a short story is what we ask for. Come on, send us your submissions!
MESSAGE FROM A MARINE ON AFGHAN FRONT–It’s fuckin’ freezing here. I’m sitting on hard,cold dirt betweenrocksand shrubs at the base of the Hindu Kush mountainsalong the Dar ‘yoi PomirRiver watching a hole that leads to a tunnel thatleads to a cave. Stakeout, my friend, and no pizza delivery for thousands ofmiles. I also glanceat the area around my ass every 10 to 15 secondsto avoid anotherscorpion sting. I’ve actually given up battling thechiggers and sandfleas,but them damn scorpions give a jolt like a cattle prod. Hurtslike abastard. The antidote tastes like transmission fluid but God bless theMarine Corps for the five vials of it in my pack.
The one truth the Taliban cannot escape is that,believe it or not, theyarehuman beings, which means they have to eat food anddrink water. Thatrequires couriers and that’s where an old bountyhunter like me comes inhandy. I track the couriers, locate the tunnelentrances and storagefacilities, type the info into the handheld, shoot thecoordinates up tothesatellite link that tells the air commanders where to drop the hardware,webash some heads for a while, then I track and record the new movement.
It’sall about intelligence.We haven’t even brought in the snipers yet. Thesescurrying rats have noidea what they’re in for. We are but days away fromcutting off supplylinesand allowing the eradication to begin.
I dream of bin Laden waking up tofind me standing over him with my boot on his throat as I spit a bloodyearinto his face and plunge my nickel-plated Bowie knife through hisfrontallobe. But you know me. I’m a romantic.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: This country blows, man. It’snoteven a country. There are no roads, there’s no infrastructure, there’snogovernment. This is an inhospitable, rockpit ruled by11thcentury warring tribes.
There are no jobs here like we know jobs.Afghanistan offers two ways for a man to support hisfamily: join the opiumtrade or join the army. That’s it. Those are youroptions. Oh, I forgot,youcan also live in a refugee camp and eatplum-sweetened, crushed beetlepasteand squirt mud like a goose with stomach flu if that’s your idea of aparty.But the smell alone of those “tent cities of thewalking dead” is enough tohurl you into the poppy fields to cheerfully scrapebulbs for 18hoursa day.
And let me tell you something else. I’ve been livingwith these Tajiks andUzbeks and Turkmen and even a couple of Pushtins forover a month and ahalfnow and this much I can say for sure: These guys, all of em, are Huns.Actual, living Huns. They LIVE to fight. It’s what they do. It’s ALL theydo.They have no respect for anything, not for theirfamilies or for each otheror for themselves. They claw at one another as a wayof life. They playpolowith dead calves and force their 5-year-old sonsinto human cockfightstodefend the family honor. Huns, roaming packs ofsavage, heartless beastswhofeed on each other’s barbarism. Fucking cavemen with AK 47s.Then again, maybe I’m just cranky.I’m freezing my ass off on this stupid hill becausemylap warmer is running out of juice and I can’t recharge it until the suncomes up in a few hours.
Oh yeah! You like to write letters, right? Dome afavor, Bizarre. Write a letter to CNN and tell Judy and Bernie and thatawful, sneering, pompous Aaron Brown to stop calling the Taliban”smart.”They are not smart. I suggest CNN invest in adictionary because the wordthey are looking for is “cunning.” The Taliban arecunning, like jackalsandhyenas and wolverines. They are sneaky and ruthless and, whenconfronted,cowardly. They are hateful, malevolent parasites who create nothing anddestroy everything else. Smart. Pfft. Yeah, they’re real smart. They’vespent their entire lives reading only one book (and not a very good one,asbooks go) and consider hygiene and indoor plumbing to be products of thedevil. They’re still figuring out how to work a Bic lighter. Talking toaTaliban warrior about improving his quality of life is like trying toteachan ape how to hold a pen; eventually he just gets frustrated and sticksyouin the eye with it.
OK, enough.Snuffle will be up soon so I have to get back to myhole. Covering mytracksin the snow takes a lot of practice but I’m getting good at it. Pleasetellmy fellow Americans to turn off their TV sets and move on with theirlives.The story line you are getting from CNN is utter bullshit anddesignednot to deliver truth, but rather to keep you glued to the screen throughthecommercials. We’ve got this one under control. The worst thing you guyscando right now is sit around analyzing what we’re doing over here becauseyouhave no idea what we’re doing and, really, you don’t want to know. Weareyour military and we are doing what you sent us here to do.
You wanna help? Buy some fucking stocks, America.–Saucy Jack
A Classy Lady—
In most cases I refuse to forward e-mail of the chain letter or spam type. Again, in most cases, the content is not correct, contains mistakes, lies or has been so twisted that the intended point is all but lost. Here is one I received and checked out as best I could. It seems real enough and concurs with other stories of the same type. Nothing to do with bikes but here for your reading pleasure:
3/66 First tour of performing in Vietnam.
12/22/68 Goes with Bob Hope Show for second tour of Vietnam
There is Justice: Ann-Margret and the Vietnam Vet
Richard never really talked a lot about his time in Vietnam other than he had been shot by a sniper. However, he had a rather grainy, 8-by-10 black and white photo he had taken at a USO show of Ann-Margret with Bob Hope in the background that was one of his treasures.
A few years ago, Ann-Margret was doing a book signing at a local bookstore. Richard wanted to see if he could get her to sign the treasured photo, so he arrived at the bookstore at 12 o’clock for the 7:30 signing. When I got there after work, the line went all the way around the bookstore,circled the parking lot and disappeared behind a parking garage.
Before her appearance, bookstore employees announced that she would sign only her book and no memorabilia would be permitted. Richard was disappointed, but wanted to show her the photo and let her know how much those shows meant to lonely GIs so far from home.
Ann-Margret came out looking as beautiful as ever and, as second in line, it was soon Richard’s turn. He presented the book for her signature and then took out the photo. When he did, there were many shouts from the employees that she would not sign it. Richard said, “I understand. I just wanted her to see it.”
She took one look at the photo, tears welled up in her eyes and she said, “This is one of my gentlemen from Vietnam and I most certainly will sign his photo. I know what these men did for their country and I always have time for ‘my gentlemen.’ ” With that, she pulled Richard across the table and planted a big kiss on him. She then made quite a to do about the bravery ofthe young men she met over the years, how much she admired them and how much she appreciated them.
There weren’t too many dry eyes among those close enough to hear. She then posed for pictures and acted as if he was the only one there.
Later, at dinner, Richard was very quiet. When I asked if he’d like to talk about it, my big strong husband broke down in tears. “That’s the first time anyone ever thanked me for my time in the Army,” he said.
Richard, like many others, came home to people who spit on him and shouted ugly things at him. That night was a turning point for him. He walked a little straighter and, for the first time in years, was proud to have been a vet. I’ll never forget Ann-Margret for her graciousness and how much that small act of kindness meant to my husband. I now make it a point to say “thank you” to every person I come across who served in our Armed Forces. Freedom does not come cheap and I am grateful for all those who have served their country.
If you’d like to pass on this story, feel free to do so. Perhaps it will help others to become aware of how important it is to acknowledge the contribution our service people make.
Why Permanent Markers Make Good Christmas Gifts—
No child was hurt during or after this photo was taken.
First the Lord made man in the Garden of Eden.
Then he said to himself, “There’s something he’s needing”
After casting about for a suitable pearl,
He kept messing around and created a girl.
Two beautiful legs, so long and so slender,
Round, slim, and firm, and ever so tender.
Two lovely hips to increase his desire,
And rounded and firm to bring out the fire.
Two lovely breasts, so full and so proud,
Commanding his eyes, as he whispers aloud.
Two lovely arms, just aching to bless you,
And two loving hands, to soothe and caress you.
Soft, cascading hair hung down over her shoulder,
And two dreamy eyes, just to make him grow bolder.
‘Twas made for a man, just to make his heart sing.
Then he added a mouth, and ruined the whole damn thing
Cyril Huze Rolling Chassis
It’s never been easier to build your own custom motorcycle. As long as you know the right components to start with. Cyril Huze offers several rolling chassis kits based on his new Stray Kat rigid frame. They use only premium parts to help you build your own custom. No cheap chassis with components of unknown origin and quality. If you want nothing else than the highest level of craftsmanship, start with one of these kits. From 3- to 6-inch stretch, from 36- to 42-degree rake. All the parts included have been test fitted and used on Cyril Huze top customs. Built it right the first time with components made to work together.
Cyril Huze
Tel: (561) 392-5557
Fax: (561) 392-9923
Web site: http://www.cyrilhuze.com
Motorcycle vs. Woman
Inventor Arthur Davidson, of the Harley-Davidson MotorcycleCorporation, died and went to heaven. At the gates, St. Peter told Arthur, “Since you’vebeen such a good man and your motorcycles have changed the world, yourreward is, you can hang out with anyone you want in Heaven.
Arthur thought about it for a minute and then said, “I want to hang outwith God.” St. Peter took Arthur to the Throne Room, and introduced him to God. Arthur then asked God, “Hey, aren’t you the inventor of woman?” God said, “Ah, yes,” “Well”, “professional to professional”, you have somemajor design flaws in your invention. There’s too much inconsistency in thefront-end protrusion. It chatters constantly at high speeds. Most modelsrear ends are too soft and wobbles too much. They are very hard to getstarted. The intake is placedway too close to the exhaust. And finally, The maintenance costs areoutrageous!
“Hmmmmmm, you may have some good points there, “replied God”, hold on.God went to his Celestial super computer, typed in a few words and waitedfor the results. The computer printed out a slip of paper and God read it.”Well, it may be true that my invention is flawed, “God said to Arthur,” butaccording to these numbers, more men are riding my invention then yours !!!
HORSE INSIDERS’ REPORT–Edge has the details for the upcoming SMSO pretty much all worked out. They’re posted on our site and will be in issue 22. The event is shaping up to be the best ever.
Please keep your eyes open for The Horse shirts being sold at malls, bike shops and novelty stores, especially around Cincinnati, Indiana and Kentucky. As most of you already know, a former employee was caught embezzling, stealing and forging checks, plus selling counterfeit shirts. Shirts were allegedly spotted in Indiana…we’re checking it out today.
The show in Cincinnati is supposed to be twice as large as last year’s. I hope to attend and need to know who else is planning on going. If you’ve never been to a show like this, be advised, it’s not a rodeo-type event, but a show where manufacturers display their latest products. I enjoy seeing everyone in one central location, but there is little to gain as far as business goes.
As you guys get the magazines, please feel free to shoot me an e-mail and tell me if you have any comments, concerns or suggestions. I value your input and hope everyone feels that as long as they’re part of the mag, that pride of ownership will compel suggestions.
–Hammer
Here?s a sneak peak at the next cover of Horse.
Continued On Page 3
I’m up to Chapter 16 of both Chance Hogan books that I’m desperately working on while Layla works at getting me an agent in the states. More on that later. Remember, every day this year you have 1440 minutes to use. Unlike money, you only get to use them once, then they’re gone–forever. Take care of each one.