The final sign... Apocalypse, Now.
 

That's it. The pieces are in place... I have seen the final sign, the end is now.

On my way home from work, I saw a middle-aged white dude, on his brand new Harley, on his cell phone.

No, I don't even know how that's possible.

I'm surprised you didn't lean out your window and punch him.

He was just leaving starbucks.

It be the Apocyclipse, Cap'n Walk'uh! The one we's heard in the tell.

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedi.../FeralsMM3.jpg

Everybody knows that after the year 1995, all Harley riders became white-collar professionals with fake beards, bellies, and tats.

Is anybody else like me - when Bike Week, or Dorks of Thunder, or Dork Vibrations, or whatever that awful weekend in September is called - do you religiously leave town that weekend? The kids and I always go camping far south of here. It's the pompous posing that gets me - I can't stand grandstanding poseurs. That and the leather fringe jackets...

The horror... the horror...

http://www.leninimports.com/marlon_brando_gallery_8.jpg

When I worked at LLNL, the biker gang that cruised the mean streets of Livermore was called The Henchmen. Mean sounding name, huh. Half of them worked at the lab. They would rumble up to their bar of choice in side-by-side formation and stop in front of it in the street; the tail-end charlie would hop off his bike and hold traffic while the rest of the pack crisply and sequentially backed up diagonally against the curb, with perfect spacing. It was quite a sight to behold. :lol:

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