Here's a pic of Mr. Serious Geek relaxing at home, pretending he's on the starship Enterprise, traveling throughout the galaxy with Spock and Captain Kirk by his side.
Could you imagine going over his house for a visit?
I'd rather not.
My brain could not stand anything as traumatic as the thought of that much geekiness oozing out of the walls.
Yes, folk, geeks are everywhere.
To me, there is more to the collection of geeks in the world than the stereotypical one pictured above.
Everyone can conjure-up an image of some Star Trek fanatic with the taped-together eyeglasses and the WD-40 pocket protector full of pens.
Probably the second most popular classification of geek that I'm familiar with is the motorcycle geek.
Yes, people, there are lots and lots of those around, and since I work at a motorcycle dealership, I see and hear a lot of them.
What is a motorcycle geek?
It's basically the kind of retard that will mess his shit right up royally, yet have no clue as to how it got so royally messed-up.
On top of that, he'll explain his royally messed-up shit to somebody at the motorcycle shop, looking for advice on how to get his pile working correctly, again.
When he's given some very sturdy advice on what to do, he'll discard it, thinking that it's just waaaaaaaaaay too much like work, or too expensive-sounding, or both.
Because, you see, this is the kind of flaming retard that is, basically, better off far away from this activity to start with, since these idiots are the type who will set out to ruin the sport of motorcycling for those with a real brain in their heads.
How can I say such a thing?
Well, have you ever held a conversation with the moron doing donuts on the school front lawn?
Or riding his motocross bike up and down his street, racing traffic?
Yeah, that's right.
These guys are all severe retards.
These are the guys that could never be troubled in a million years with even wanting to learn how to maintain the bike and learn how to ride one well and enjoy doing it with like-minded riders.
Frig, no.
They prance around with the bent handlebars, the loose, floppy, and jangly clutch levers, dry and creaky control cables, squeaky suspension pivots, bald-o tires, pointy-toothed sprockets with matching drive chains, and cracked engine crankcases.
The really disgusting part is that, in their squishy matter between their ears, they think that there's nothing wrong or uncommon about all of this.
This is how it should be, and it's simply what's going to happen over time.
Correction, you idiot.
This is what happens with YOU in charge of things.
When i first started riding dirt bikes, I started reading Dirt Bike magazine.
There's a monthly column in there written by a guy called Mr. Know-It-All.
Mr. Know-It-All's column is a question-and-answer session, where people write-in, asking Mr. Know-It-All for advice on how to fix their shit that they have messed up.
Mr. Know-It-All basically treats them with a healthy dose of disgust for their actions, telling them that they deserve what they got, and it's now time to man-up, bite the bullet, and pay the piper for their serious geekiness with motorcycles.
A typical situation is a fool asking Mr. Know-It-All how on Earth can all of the bearing of his KX-250F rear suspension be worn out already?
It's only a 2008 model, for chrissake!
Of course, the Mr. KIA will give them an answer with the solution, but as the old saying goes, there's no free lunch, and these morons are served a heaping helping of here-you-go-you-dillweed pie.
Back then, it was a great column, and it was, along with my own real-life experiences that I was going through at the same time with guys I knew and rode with, what helped me realize how most riders got themselves into trouble with their shit.
It simply is a case of not wanting to know, expecting a free lunch, not lifting a finger, yet complaining when the inevitable happens.
Tough shit, chump.
You asked for it.
Off to jerk,
-John
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