In the modern quest for "fame", those seeking their Warholian fifteen minutes astride a mountain bike are a strange lot to me. The air of desperation emanates from many who seem to be seeking this kind of attention, whether they are wedging their way into obtaining status as the big fish in a little pond, or simply sandbagging amateur races. The reek is real and painfully obvious to anyone even remotely paying attention. Yeah, that shit stinks, even if it is sadly amusing.
To me, fifteen minutes is how long a normally twenty minute descent went this morning, as indicated by my analog timepiece. Warhol may have gotten it right for those who earn or stumble into fame, however Bowie got it right for the desperate with, "Fame (fame) puts you there where things are hollow." Hollow is no way to go through life, kiddies.
Riders Come and Go, Kooks Accumulate
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