​Will Chris Froome three-peat this 2017 Tour de France? And is Le Tour still one of the most essential sporting events worldwide, or has it slipped - because of sleazy drugs and slimy cheating - to a b-list happening?

Anyway, down the road, the future of supreme bike road racing may belong to another Britisher, Adam Yates. The guy won the white jersey – defined as the best placed finisher under the age of 26 - in the 2016 TDF. He placed 4th when all was said and done.

But the future is now, and if the 2016 Tour de France was any indication - with Froome front and centre in debate and in anticipation of success - or failure – in this 2017 edition, at least 100 channels will air it to at least 190 countries to be watched by 3 BILLION.

(By the way, in stage 1 of this 2017 Tour, Chris came 6th, and he has happily announced he's signed on for 3 more years with Team Sky.) 

Despite Chris's latest results and news, undoubtedly these TDF numbers would be higher but the stench of Lance Armstrong’s chicanery looms over every facet of the bicycling endurance race and Froome’s Team Sky and British Cycling being investigated by UK Anti-Doping sure hasn’t helped...

Nevertheless, between 10 to 12 million spectators, if not scaring the daylights out of the riders by jumping onto the route waving their arms wildly, will, for sure, loom over the route and press against the edges.

But is La Grande Boucle as edgy, unpredictable, and pressure packed as riders and fans tout? Sure crashes erupt helter skelter, but a glance at previous winners shows, often, repeat, consecutive wins. If it was as iffy and chancy as proponents aver and was truly competitive, would not more individuals have won - with individual cycling dynasties a rarity rather than commonplace?
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Of course many will retort that cream always rises to the top and that past greats like Indurain, Hinault, Merckx, LeMond, and Froome rose to their natural, expected, excellent level, predictability be damned.

For sure, there’s pressure to piss. Sitting and straining for hours per day, with only 2 days rest over the 21 stages, means riders have to “go” and like “now.” Some pull over en masse to do the deed; others fiddle with their shorts to do it whilst upon the bike! Amazing, that.

Even as amazing is that it is illegal to urinate in a stream or river. Stick to the tree and try to let the riders behind you know that, so they don’t shamelessly pass you by.

Most amazing still, Mark Cavendish admits to pissing himself if the weather is chilly.

For sure, while youngsters adulate these cycling cyborgs, they should know life as a professional bicycle road racer isn’t all peaches and cream. For starters, the starting pay of £35,000 or $45,150 USD - isn’t that great. And life on the road, racing and travelling to races, sounds somewhat monotonous and definitely irksome. You’re not with loving family and best friends, you’re with teammates - some likeable, some loathsome.

But The Tour de France isn’t all agony. Sure this year’s edition promises a climb as steep as sin to La Planche des Belles Filles, but when not huffing and puffing upwards, the peloton will find its members either daydreaming or casually chatting to fellow rivals, talking about Paris, or talking about future events on their racing calendars.

Alas, however, for 3 weeks the casual fan tuning in will, if the TV is mute, be hard pressed to recognize a particular rider, any rider, save for their faves in winning jerseys. Basically, helmets have removed any chance of easy facial recognition. Indeed, apart from stage-winning jersey wearers, the only standout from the crowd might be Alex Howes – because he wears funky sunglasses.

Howes et al will begin the Great Loop in Düsseldorf, Germany, with a did-you-see-that-blur–whizz-by 14 kilometer individual time trial.

But let’s put the brakes, right now, on one trend, shall we? We know the cyclists in the 2017 Tour de France, to a man, will be in awesome shape. But to the casual ballsy beau mansplaying at home, don’t imitate the professionals and don Lycra when you get off the couch to pedal and peddle your wears and wares about town. You’re chubby in all the wrong places and you’re contributing to blight and visual pollution. The Lycra look, for you, is not good. Scrap the spandex and stop MAMIL’s (Middle-Aged Men in Lycra.)

Where were we?

Yes, Froome, the favorite, going for his 4th win in 5 years. This Nairobi born road racer certainly thrives in the suffering of training and racing. He might even admit, to himself at least, that he enjoys it. After all, roads in Kenya, whilst adequate for marathoners, were hardly conducive to a kid dreaming of elite cycling. Conditions there were, to be generous, Spartan – But Chris had no complaints...

To copy the feel of alpine climbing where such terrain didn’t exist Chris would pull his breaks to create the necessary struggle and resistance...He admits in his early days (around 2006 by this point) his technique was terrible “crash Froome” - but he had “an engine” - an engine later stricken with Bilharzia, a parasitic disease harmful to red blood cells – the means to transport oxygen.

He also admits his first TDF back in 2008 was a huge learning experience with the speed seemingly 10 kilometers per hour faster than any race he had been in previously. He was 1 of 4 riders for his 9-man team, to finish. In the 2012 Tour de France he had to take a back seat to teammate Bradley Wiggins, causing some discomfort for himself, Wiggins, and the team. In the 2014 race he pranged up his left knee, left wrist...right thigh, leaving the contest prematurely. He had to fight suspicions of doping...

And just this year, in May, he was deliberately knocked off his bike in a hit and run: the bike was mashed, but Chris was unhurt. (The road rage driver remains at large.)

But, and this is a big but, until finishing 4th in June’s Critérium du Dauphiné, he hadn’t raced competitively since April, and his running of his own schedule has undoubtedly caused  Team Sky some consternation.
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Thus, come this July, the world will watch and wonder again if Chris will be the best bet overall in climbing, descending, time-trialing, and cross wind cycling – blessed with a, oh my, peak oxygen uptake twice that of normal humans - enabling him to hit the breathtaking heights of yet another Tour de France win.
 

​Can Jason Dufner, The Duf, win the 2017 U.S Open at the Erin Hills GC in Wisconsin? This laid back man, who looks kinda like the Tasmanian devil with Teddy bear thrown in, is hot, having won the Memorial a couple of weeks back. Now ranked 27th worldwide, Dufner won't feel as much pressure, having won a Major, the PGA Championship in 2013, as will the United States Golf Association, with that body's reputation on the line to tweak Erin Hills as playable, not lamentable, for the pros. The USGA wants the winner to be around par. Golf Digest ranks this venue as the 2nd best of the more than 500 golf courses in that state, behind Whistling Straits.
 
Anyway, if the putting surfaces are as atrocious as the "fine fescue" grasses were at Chambers Bay, back in 2015, all the competitors will ape Justin’s Dufnering (more on that momentarily) - while the USGA crawls into a hole - no matter how great these Erin Hills bentgrass greens are purported to be.
 
Gotta love Duf Daddy because he doesn't put on airs. He gives us ordinary blokes hope. He proves that dedication to his craft (despite his common-man physique) can make a beginner who struggled on the tour, taking nine long years to break into the top 100 golfers in the world - a winner. He's a poor man's John Daly - and like John he's been rumored with life problems of the wife. Specifically, according to the National Enquirer – who scooped the slimy pol, John Edwards and extra-marital squeeze Rielle Hunter, “love child” tawdriness - the Dufner was said to have been part of a not-at-the-same-time sexual tryst between him, ex-wife Amanda, and some guy named Tiger Woods - with Lindsey Vonn an unplayable lie at the time.
 
Sex games and machinations aside, will Erin Hills, just 45 minutes north-west of Milwaukee, suit Jason’s game and deliberations for this 117th edition of the U.S Open? Mike Davis, USGA Executive Director, given the botched job at Chambers Bay, swings for the fences, declaring that this golf course is “...worthy of identifying the game’s very best.”
 
So there.
 
And given that Dufner is at his best right now...he might be able to survive the 608 yard, par 5, 1st hole and the 613 yarder, 14th. Dufner, however, off the tee is ranked around 99th at 290.0 yards. Dustin Johnson, whom Bodog has odds on as winning (compared to its ranking of Jason as 22nd best chance) leads driving length at 319 big ones. Dufner’s putting is even more average. He candidly confesses "I've been putting bad for 17 years...” This week he ranks 112th. So how could he possibly win this U.S Open? His play from the fairways is better, ranking 46th, but his compact, torso-based swing is consistent. Indeed for a man with a soft round belly - when he isn't a Thinny Minnie - and with a physique and musculature, no matter his overall weight, resembling a Sunday duffer, it's amazing the guy plays as well as he does - and it's astounding his torso is running the swing. Heck, he set a 36-hole record in winning Jack Nicklaus's tournament.
 
To continue, there are lots of sand traps, pot bunkerish - which will test Dufner and his 157th sand save ranking - and others who will find themselves sometimes hitting out sideways or backwards – there is lots of fescue grass between tee to greens, fringing the latter, and alongside - and surrounding - fairways to boot.  The course may be relatively new but its foundations of rolling hills were formed by glaciers 10 thousand years ago. And, for the past 7 years, 1,815 tons of sand have been used as top dressing on the 40 acres of fairways...

This links public course features lots of wind. Great ball striking is a must. Dufner, with his cute pre-shot waggles, has that attribute, epitomized by wondrous wedge play. Undoubtedly assistant superintendents Alex Beson-Crone and Adam Ayers and 1 of 3 course architects, Dana Fry, are engagingly concerned – and have been since 2010 when they were awarded the 2017 date, with getting the place “just so.”

For what it’s worth Eric Steimer, Championship Manager, for the 2017 U.S. Open calls it a tremendous property. The USGA believes in the site – lionizing it as a field of dreams...For many players it will be their first time playing this course. For the 35,000 fans following the pros over the 8-mile long course, it will be their first time seeing their stars live. For the 135 million pumped into the local region, it will be their economy on the gravy train. For us watching on TV, it will be panoramic vistas coupled with minimalist design - combining to have the best handle, or mishandle the rough...

Back to Jason. During an interview on the Kelly & Michael show he brought out the Wanamaker PGA Trophy. (The top comes off – and it can hold, 47 beers.) He, of course was amiable, and forthright. When asked to comment on his putt, that if sunk, would have set an ALL-TIME golf record Majors’s score of 62, he called it the worst effort he made all week.

Which brings us to the ALL-TIME coolest move called Dufnering. Asked to explain how Dufnering came about Duf explained he had sat Indian style for 30 minutes, at J. Erik Jonsson Community School in Dallas in a charity appearance, mused that he had already been in the second grade, wondered to himself when this event was going to be over, wanted it to get done – for his body’s sake, and, before the session ended, while the teacher talked about relaxation, breathing, and how to get ready for tests, he sorta “checked out” and relaxed his sore frame via Dufnering, sitting legs straight out, arms draped at the sides, leaning against a wall. He smiled shyly, saying the Dufnering international craze “turned out good.” Dufnering, he added, wasn’t premeditated, wasn’t meant to be disrespectful, was a natural moment, but didn’t impress his then wife one bit – “...because she sees it all the time. Apparently I do it all the time.”
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And Mr. Dufner, The War Eagle from Auburn University, with the Tasmanian devil face and teddy bear countenance, wins big tournaments some of the time. And if he doesn’t “check out” and does keep up with his new military-style breathing regimen to prevent batting and battling the ball around the green, who is to say he can’t become the next U.S. Open winner?

​Ingenuity meets insanity at the Summer X Games with every competitor an artist, acrobat, gymnast, and stuntman. As the X denotes – the very nature of their disciplines dictates they push boundaries to extremes. Or, as the X Games Twitter site proclaims: Spreading the shred in action sports since 1995.
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For Baby Boomers who don’t understand what Generation X or Generation Y see in the Summer X Games stuff, don’t worry: your offspring – all 106 million of them, in 121 countries will, via TV, watch the 2017 Summer X Games coming from Minneapolis and explain same to you.

X Games competitors and wannabees, however, sandwich some wonderful traits between the crusty edges of inventiveness and craziness. For example, in skateboarding kids looked to Tony Hawk’s and Mark Gonzales’s tricks, styles, and mannerisms. They’d try to emulate Tony Hawk’s 900. (But they’d better be prepared for a lot of persistence before meeting excellence. It took Tony Hawk “The Birdman” his 12th time to final successfully land the 900.) They’d try to copy the Gonz’s shoes. They’d assimilate and incorporate the masters’ moves into their routines. They’d extrapolate, synthesize, re-evaluate and - through these processes - come up with new stunts.

Alas, nowadays, given today’s stiff-as-a-board political correctness, they’d be accused of cultural appropriation to be sure, and possibly ageist appropriation too. Thus the X Games must be stopped! And all skateboarders younger than Hawk and Gonzales, who can be shown to have used elements of the former's in their skating – must undergo sensitivity training.

Ok, let’s forget such puerile politics for now (and hopefully for ever) and return to the virile characteristics of the X Games, generally.

Specifically, skateboarders are said to have been “shredding the vert ramp” Basically, they shred here, they shred there, indeed, the word shred has an even more altruistic purpose too, with the Shred Hate campaign to reduce bullying in American schools. Don’t know if bullying equals hate, and don’t know if 10 million kids are bullied each year in schools there, as the website page says, but their heart is in the right place even if their correlation and statistics are both a bit off...
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It should be said: the X Games doesn't test athletes for drugs. This is probably just as well, despite it pissing off the likes of the World Anti-Doping Agency. 90% of these competitors gotta be high on something, or a cocktail of somethings, to even contemplate the stunts they do, let alone put them into practice. Or they could be high on life. It happens.

But let’s taunt WADA with a certifiable, undeniable fact. Didn’t Pierre-Luc Gagnon “PLG” admit after a heavy night partying, that lots of water and a few Excedrin can get him back on the skateboard? So let us have WADA scrutinize PLG’s NOLLIE HEELFLIP VARIAL INDY 540, why don’t we? Or have that body inspect Kevin Robinson’s pulling a Double Flair back in 2006 or study his world record ramp-to-ramp 84-foot backflip at the age of 44.
 
Actually the X Games and its athletes should be examined, not for foreign substances, but for unworldly creativity. For instance, who thought that some competitors would run their bikes brakeless? Moreover, have hockey, baseball, football, or basketball come up with any radical new wrinkles in the past few years?

Extreme sports has, at its core, the seed of imagination wherein whatever happened before can be grown upon, spreading a canopy of daredevilish deeds, more bold and brassy and outlandishly outrageous than ever before. Its trunk has rings, not of ages, but of new ways of doing things on skateboards, bikes, and motorcycles. (And gotta love the names for tricks, though we conventional old fogie types would scoff and sneer at the seemingly endless plethora of over-the-top monikers such as the Topside No-footed CanCan; One-handed 540; Switch-blade flip; Flare Double Whip; Downside Tail Whip...)

Speaking of whip or whippersnappers, what should we say about 50-year old + BMX rider Dennis McCoy? Simply that he is his sport’s equivalent to hockey’s ageless Jaromir Jagr. Didn’t he, smooth and dialed in, pull a 900 at the ripe old age of 49?

And what about Bob? Remember skateboarder Bob Burnquist’s 98 score in ‘99? When he did at least 4 moves the commentators either had not seen, or did not think were possible? And for us largely unfamiliar to X Games and skateboarding, but totally familiar with Olympic greatness and gymnastics, say – let’s equate Bob’s stunning run that X Games, to a stunning routine of the best male gymnast in the world, Kohei Uchimura.

One must quickly look at the downside of this sporting genre. Injuries can be numerous and mind numbingly severe. Let's admit it, some watch X games events for the wipeout factor, as do Indy 500 fans watching car races for crashes. Travis Pastrana once suffered a dislocated spine...18 broken bones...and had 8 surgeries – at a minimum! Can’t forget Jake Brown’s fall from 45 feet up, can we, resulting in a broken wrist, broken vertebrae, a bruised lung and liver, a concussion - and a ruptured spleen?

“Best Trick” has been a great spectacle but at the cost of serious injuries. Heck, even watching promo videos of skateboarders – with no helmet or other padding - gives one the willies. Because they are so amazing they’ll take the risk of crumbling onto pavement, tumbling down stairs, and going ass-over-teakettle over railings. But mistakes do happen: ever seen the video of Chris Joslin flying over 20 steps or so, only to tumble and roll over his tail-bone hard?
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But pains and aches aside, it seems even these setbacks never stop each new X Games from getting better year after year, because every entrant knows the other will be bringing new and freaky-fabulous moves to the table. All will make this Summer X Games, coming up in Minneapolis this July, an extremely excellent exhibition of courage and character to view, where attitude meets amplitude, or put more simply – to be THE BEST SUMMER X GAMES YET.

​MMA fighter Georges St-Pierre is returning to battle after 3+ years. Is this wise? He’s got the titles, the money, the fame, is thought of as a class act – and he risks his health and hale name, for what? And why?

And he’s not working his way back to elite form fighting tomato cans. He starts scrapping at the top, facing UFC middleweight champion, Michael Bisping, this year. And St-Pierre would be moving up one heavier weight class to boot. Michael loves that factor. Neither are spring chickens. St-Pierre is 35; Bisping is 38.

It was back in December 2013 that Georges decided to walk away from mixed martial arts, wanting a “normal life.” One supposes the normal life - for Georges training, teaching, and travelling all over the world, was too pedestrian, too humdrum, and so he’s coming back. But will he, having not fought competitively for 42+ months hurt his chances - forget success and winning - to surviving: mentally and physically, health somewhat intact?

A big reason for vacating his welterweight title was his inability to sleep at night. He sounded like he was one burnt-out warrior. When sleep doesn’t come easy to a man whose physical conditioning is always near peak, when your body should naturally go to sleep from a happy, well deserved exhaustion, that body is telling you: take a different path.

But now he’s back on warpath. And his news conference with Bisping, the latter who showed up 30 minutes late, pissing off Dana White, President of the Ultimate Fighting Championship, on Friday March 3rd, confirms it. Like any fight contestants, they traded the requisite insults jabbing at the other's mental and physical toughness and bravery – with Bisping, once arriving, telling George “to shut the f—k up” but GSP had one huge new truth for his fans (after accusing Bisping of still being drunk from the previous evening)

He’s overhauling his fighting style.

He talks of a new GSP fighting version.

But is it possible to recreate oneself after so many years of doing things a certain way? Can an old dog learn new tricks? He says he’s striving for the ultimate combination “the perfect peak” of athleticism, knowledge, and wisdom.

Undoubtedly he’s talked all of this through with his management and training team(s). They all know he came back in 2012 after an 18 month layoff due to injury - but that was 5 years ago. Gotta wonder, however, what the coterie’s final vote was. And do they want this to happen for Georges’s sake - or do they have their own personal, career motives in play here too? For in helping George fight 15 world title fights (out of 27 bouts – with 25 wins and 2 losses) they were also at the apex(s) of their crafts...

So, for better or worse, GSP is returning to the cage. He doesn’t seem completely driven by ego in deciding this. Sure, he’s driven to success but one gets the feeling it is for the sport and not so much for his vanity. Heck, on his way up the ladder he worked as a garbage man, hardly a job for a bloke concerned about “appearances.” Thus his comeback could be seen as one based on the sport and not on the self.

Ok, he’s got a bit of an ego. Ok, maybe a lot of an ego. He says the fact that his comeback attempt has never been done before excites and motivates him.

You know, Georges, aka “Rush”, if you want a meaningful, motivational role in the sport, why not act as its better angel, its conscious? Perhaps you could look into allegations of illegal doping within it. You’ve called it “...a freaking joke.” Might you be able to clear things up? (This is not to say St-Pierre isn’t against additives. He takes supplements). And, if another idea is needed, why not continue with your charity work like your prior deeds with CIBC and children’s charities in Canada, for example?

Back to the nitty-gritty. He returns with a multi-fight contract negotiated with UFC with his first contest slated for July 2017, during International Fight Week, in Las Vegas. UFC President White’s pleased – he refers to GSP as “The King of Pay-Per-View.”

Anyway...Both fighters are getting a pretty payday with this battle.

Before he quit, Georges had won 12 in a row. Bisping says Georges misses this kind of limelight. Let’s assume Bisping’s correct. And here’s another big; WHY? If Georges comes back, and gets his pre-fight build up of fame and adoration, then muffs the fight – he’ll forever be known as the guy WHO SHOULD NOT HAVE COME BACK. That’s a legacy nobody would want. Obviously he’s willing to take that risk to his reputation, heading into the Octagon, back to fighting it out in 750 square feet of testosterone-filled space; it’s basically back to the future for GSP. Let’s hope he doesn’t end up flat on his back.

Bisping, for his part, is 30-7 with 16 knockouts...He’s won his last 5 fights. And Bisping’s gotta win - the pressure’s all on him because if he loses, his detractors will rip him, saying he couldn’t even beat a guy coming back from a 3 year hiatus. Michael is also coming back from having a knee “cleaned up” with a torn meniscus...but he’s full of confidence, bravado - for sure, BS at least - when he declared he could go out on an all-night bender and still beat GSP the next day.

Benders or no benders, currently GSP is the betting favorite to beat Bisping...
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But this is a sure bet. Whoever loses will have his career bend – and will have his character be bent out of shape for good.

​Sex parties. Orgasms with strange people. Cost $75,000 per year.

A) Should an ostensibly decent conservative-leaning publication, in this case the NY Post, run stories such as this?
B) Should an ostensibly decent public, in this case excluding the likes of me and you, OK - me: fondle unfamiliar humans – and spend big bucks to do so?
C) Hey! This is the internet right? Everything on first-offer is for free. Where’s the participants’ cop-a feel freebie demonstration? And where are the conservatives that back the NY Post – aren’t they supposed to shun sex for fun, only partaking in it when it’s necessary to inflict the world with more Republicans?

So what’s on tap if you’ve the lucre? Wild monthly sex parties. 
 
Looking at the pictures, one must research, right?! - shows black-colored lingerie in vogue, with way more women in the photos than guys.
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Elizabeth Lippman, of the aforementioned NY Post, hopefully did not bend over backwards to detail these doings. This is not to say the NY Post is a one hung horse, one trick pony, offering nothing but salacious smut. The next tab on its on-line serving reported on Afghan woman training in Shaolin martial arts.

Generally, we with no lives wonder: How many sexual soirees are open (for big f’---bucks) to the public? Is this where we, as a society, want to descend to? And, if it be so, how soon can we, society’s also rans, horn in on this action?

And what’s with the bunny ears some of the girls are wearing? Are rabbit ears inherently sexy? I mean, if the 90% nakedness and the 10% lingerie don’t do the trick, how can bunny ears help?
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Okay. Let’s forget the questions and pretend we’re ready to go randy, ready to spend the money to have sex with unfamiliar folks. But, we gotta ask this: should we not worry that a sex party website, like pseudo-porn websites, are crooked and skanky, just waiting to hoover up your money for nothing in return or are, worse yet, hooked into bandits from faraway lands, waiting to take my buying credentials and suck my identity out of me, right in front of my eyes?

Tell you what, here’s what I did see...when finding out about the sexual monthly party festivities on the internet, I discovered Google led to a whole bunch of links that go nowhere – or at least go somewhere, but not to what your search should result in. I typed:

Wild monthly sex parties for $75,000 per year

– and the first link gave me a photo of the bunny rabbit ladies and one lucky man, and the link under sent me to Yahoo News which then provided a link telling all at www.inusanews.com , which, when opened, told me the full story was in the NY Post, which, when selected, brought back the photo of the rabbit girls and lucky guy again.

But this New York Post link actually works. It publicizes “Sanctum, an LA based high-end sex party.” Strangers having sex. They sign a blood oath - not sure why that is...But for those too shy to partake, they can watch the carnal carnival. But paying $75 big ones a year to look at other people having fun, doesn’t sound like a good use of one’s money or time, does it?

Heather Hauswirth wrote the piece. She does point out that if one wants to pay as they play, they (men) can go à la carte, and fork over $1,850 per party. So that’s something.

Women, not surprisingly, get to go for free. And not surprisingly a lot of men want other women to have sex with their wives...

Men. Who needs ‘em?
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Anyway, Damon Lawner is the impetus and maestro behind these parties. No doubt Damon’s life has gotta be pretty-out there, but while effusive about some details behind Inner Sanctum, he’s tighter than a clam when asked about what the blood oath involves. Oh well, it’s his party and he can shut up if he wants to...

But Damon is adamant that his sex galas are not sex or swinger parties.

Ok, then.

He says, as reported by pretty, but pretty-odd, Gwyneth Paltrow, or at least by her GOOP website, that Snctum (and no, that’s not a spelling mistake) “...is about exploring the boundaries of what sex means, and how it inherently makes us all feel.”

Ok, then.

Damon says he struggled with the tussle between monogamy and

"...also desiring to fully actualize my authentic self.”

Monogamy lost out -

but seriously, he seems to sound like a nice guy. And he likes sex. That’s gotta be worth something...

Worth, definitely, in having Snctum now entering its 4th year of operations, no doubt a testament to his likeability and a testament to the kinda classy offerings on the buffet table. (And here, women make the first moves, I think it’s a law, or golden rule there...)

Probably, that should be the golden rule everywhere.

Hey, perhaps Snctum is on to something, that we, as a decent public, should adopt after all !?

​Is the Human Fly, Rick Rojatt, hanging out with D.B. Cooper?

Rick used to walk, or stand, on jets, while D.B. skyjacked at least one. Neither of these guys has been seen since the 70’s. While the FBI has closed the case on D.B. many wonder why Rick - who aspired to be the best daredevil on the planet, which meant pushing Evel Knievel off that ledge - left the limelight.

Could be Rick may have planned his amazing vanishing act all along for he never, while capturing the world’s imagination as the Human Fly, ever took his red mask off. For all we know the bloke next to us, if he’s tall and unmasked, could be Rojatt, “the wildest superhero ever...” hiding in plain sight.
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Perhaps the most startling, stunning deed of the Canadian-born Human Fly’s was when he decided he had better be perched atop a DC-8 while it flew around at 250 miles per hour. To prevent the Human Fly from blowing away in the wind what with a takeoff that featured 3,000 pounds of air pressure - he, wearing a cotton outfit, mask and goggles, was strapped into a vertical case, which itself was fastened to the plane by 4 cables.

The Human Fly and his predilection for fooling around on things-jetty is especially noteworthy because usually it is air-force pilots trained in flying their own machines that perform stunts, or is, of late, a Russian fighter pilot buzzing (barrel rolling) an American jet that takes care of this aeronautically-nutty stuff. Ordinarily a fly - human or otherwise - or a human - buggy or otherwise - could not best a jet.

In 1977, when attempting to beat Knievel’s motorcycle jump of 13 buses, by clearing 26 buses, he did so, but horrifically pranged up the rocket-powered Harley-Davidson XL 1000 Sportster motorcycle (top speed capability 300mph) and his person...about 4 buses short of the down ramp. His stunt-caper literally crashed his career (this was just 1 of 38 accidents/operations over 4 years, he says) and, thus, started his disappearing act, right after being taken away by stretcher, having busted a few bones including at least one ankle, from the almost-made-it jump.

He had hoped to shock and awe his fans with a rocket-propelled jump from Britain to France (or France to Britain does it matter? – anyway, over the English channel) but that, alas, was not to be...

Of course he might not have disappeared so much as passed away. But you’d think that that news would have come out, ferreted by an investigative reporter. Surely family and friends wouldn’t have, if Rick had passed, decided to deke out the world and put another name on a death certificate. To what, no pun intended, end?

So let’s assume he lived through the 70’s and may still be with us today. So why the vanishing act? Sure it is a good publicity angle but after a few decades most public interest in his whereabouts has lessened. Did family or friends, for whatever reasons or rationales, convince him to clam up, turn turtle? Did a shrink diagnose him as a reckless publicity hound, and recommend he turn down the ego-thermostat and bunker in? Perhaps his injuries from the beat-Evel escapade have embarrassed him, or, worse yet, have limited his abilities to communicate.

His fly-by-height act made an impact, all the more remarkable for social media had not really kicked in – and that’s the straw that stirs the drink allowing so many to ride the waves of insta-recognition these days – for feats far less significant than Rick’s. A comic book, The Human Fly, produced by Marvel, was based on his exploits. Unfortunately it was a short, 20-issue, run.

What is it, with daredevils like Rojatt, skyjackers like Cooper, or sky-walkers like Kane Petersen, for example? Is it the thrill of danger, the proximity to death, the craving of attention, a lack of something in the core of their lives – or an absence of common sense - that drives them to these supremely risky adventures - or is it just that they are simply wild and crazy guys at heart?
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Jeffery Werner of People Magazine profiled this guy back in 1976 and ended the piece, summing up Rojatt’s take on existence perfectly. “I don’t have a death wish. I have a life wish.” Let’s hope that he hasn’t disappeared like Jimmy Hoffa, the Teamsters leader, did in the 70’s - let’s instead hope - he’s alive and well, but has opted for anonymity, has chosen just to be a fly on the wall.

​Adam Silver’s got balls. The commissioner of the NBA wants NBA players to hector President Donald Trump for his incorrect views. Has Trump complained about the lack of diversity within the NBA – a league where 75% of players are black? Has he wanted to put blacks at the back of the bus, behind illegal aliens? What the heck is Adam Silver dribbling about?

We’ll get to the NBA dunk of Trump momentarily.

Up until now, Adam has handled race-based, concerning African-Americans, political issues with aplomb.

Actually Silver demolishes, not dribbles, when it comes to racism against blacks. When NBA owner, come on down, Donald Sterling - spoke racially and odiously off the cuff privately to V. Stiviano about black people, well, Adam, in only his 88th day as commissioner, atomized Donald with a jolly good ban of him from the NBA - for LIFE - and tacked on a 2.5 million dollar fine for good measure – based on this one incident only.

Wow.

The power.

Power, however, that was lauded by NBA icons Charles Barclay, Kenny “The Jet” Smith, and Shaquille O’Neal, in hearing of Silver’s slam dunk of Sterling.

Power. Put to proper use.

Perhaps, however, instead of targeting President Trump, Silver, who looks EXACTLY like the farmer carrying the pitchfork in the American Gothic House painting, should use that power, as a white guy, to resign and let a female black take his job. Or let Mark Tatum, a black deputy commissioner vie for his spot. Apparently blacks in NBA management are almost as low numerically as are Asians playing in the NBA, although blacks, Shaquille O’Neal and David Robinson, do hold team-ownership positions in the league, albeit in piddly amounts. Robinson has 1.88% in the San Antonio Spurs while O’Neal has 2-4% with the Sacramento Kings.

Or Silver, do a double. Step down, but before you do, arbitrarily set quotas for Asians to start on NBA squads.

No? 

Oh.

So you plead for blacks in a league replete with them against The Donald whose Trumpian Empire in his casinos and hotels had diverse staffs. Yet your understanding of presidential player development is nil. Think basketball player’s development. A performer, new to the job, doesn’t hit his, or her, stride for many months, maybe a couple of years – at least. Yet you want your brood to carp and castigate against The Donald in, what, his three-some months of tenure?

And hasn’t Silver seen what Colin Kaepernick’s politics has done to NFL fan attendance? Does he want the NBA to go all political? With the country evenly split between left wing lunatics and right wing wackos, no matter what stance on the issue of the day the NBA takes, will piss off half the populace. (One fortunate fact is that the NBA mandates players to stand for the anthem.)

Oops, a bit late. The NBA has gone over-the-top-and-below-the-belt political, deciding it didn’t like North Carolina’s law(s) on lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender people, believing them discriminatory – so Charlotte won’t get the All-Star game in February. North Carolina Governor, Pat McCrory, said that the people of North Carolina should use washrooms based on their genetic sex. If perception is reality, the NBA looks like it supports boys using girls’ washrooms.

The NBA is fouling out here...

And even if the NBA isn’t going all partisan, its performers of arms-length have. Remember Denasia Lawrence, the singer who did the anthem in a pre-season game? She knelt and opened her jacket to show off a T-shirt extolling Black Lives Matter.

This is a controversial group.

While BLM can’t control its members and can’t be responsible for their biases and thuggery, it has followers that praised the killing of three Baton Rouge police officers. So the NBA, like it or not, is tainted by association to a collective that many, like the Dallas Police Department’s Demetrick Pennie, who is President of the Dallas Fallen Officer Foundation, and who is suing BLM for inciting race riots - feels is racist and anarchist. Pennie is black so it would be hard to construe his motives as skin based...

Now, for sake of argument, let us say the players are right to debate with The Donald and, moreover, that their arguments are completely correct too.

This can play out in a few ways.
​
First, they make their arguments and Donald listens without reaction. Second, they make their arguments and Donald disagrees with them completely. (This scenario isn’t likely.) Third, he agrees with some of their points, says others need study, and disagrees with the rest.
(((Third-point-A, Donald Trump does whatever Donald Trump does to confound us all once again.)))
Forget Third-point-A for now. For our sanity and safekeeping.
There’s a fourth option. Let’s call this the nuclear option. As we all know by now Trump has broken every conventional political rule in getting himself elected. He just might decide to cancel the tradition of NBA champions visiting the White House because, given his busy schedule - - -  although Saturday Night Live has VP Pence handling all the tough stuff - - - why would he want to preside over an event in which he is harangued and lectured? Didn’t he just face such treatment from the mainstream media while electioneering? Why go through it again? What’s in it for him?

But there’s a fifth possibility that might send the NBA-complaining stars back to the bench. Suppose they tout reforms to policing and more community involvement in nurturing wayward kids in gangs to go straight. Now suppose it is the Cleveland Cavaliers that win again in 2017 and Trump listens to the arguments and agrees with the players and volunteers and asks them to go out into the troubled communities to help try to fix things up. For sure LeBron James, with his history of giving back on Akron, will rise to the challenge but will others? And will some doing the caterwauling be shown by Donald’s response to be nothing more than virtue signalers?

What would President Trump, in agreeing to the NBA player pleas be doing? He’d be calling their bluff.
​
Tip off.

​The world knows the airplane crash on a mountainside in Colombia, has dashed the Cinderella Story of a Brazilian soccer team from Chapecó. The airplane was an unlucky 13-miles south of Medellin’s International Airport, when it buried.

Nearly HALF of Chapecó’s people witnessed the funeral, waving with flashlights and candle lights, for the 19 players and 6 coaches (with total people deceased at 71) who were killed flying to the finals of Copa Sudamericana to face the Colombian team, Atlético Nacional. The latter, shocked, graciously requested the South American Football Confederation award the Chapecoense, AKA Chape - the trophy as a “posthumous homage to the victims.”  This has been done.

The old goalie, Nivaldo, had been instructed to stay home and prep for the return match. He’s alive. The young, up-and-comer keeper, Danilo, who over a week ago, came up with a big save against Argentine club San Lorenzo - was on the flight. He’s dead.   

Players Alan Ruschel, Jackson Follmann, who has had part of his right leg amputated, and Helio Zampier reportedly survived the crash, a crash described as one commentator as “gliding into oblivion’ what with no fuel or electricity...

And one of the survivors was found by an alert do-one-last-check policeman AFTER the official search had been temporarily stopped due to bad weather.

Why has this team so captured the world’s imagination and attention?

Well, if it wasn’t the simple “playing for us” it surely was the team’s seemingly insurmountable rise from 4th division in 2008 to Série A a few years later. (And during parts of that period it had been broke.) And if it wasn’t the team’s incorruptibility, unlike BRAZIL’s soccer leadership, what with José Maria Marin, the former president of Brazil’s soccer federation, being arrested in Switzerland on corruption charges, or Marco Polo Del Nero being indicted by America’s Justice Department on corruption charges – it was that the team was efficiently competent, winning against clubs with deeper pockets – while stocked with players, most of whom had no international fame, and all of whom who had never earned a spot on the Brazil National Team roster. Heck, its best scorer, Bruno Rangel, was a 34-year-old journeyman with more than a dozen stops in his soccer career.

“The Champion Is Back” chanted supporters as the military brought coffins into the Arena Condá, a small green-and-white concrete stadium – thus immortalizing this team.

So the 210,000 tail-of-a-town is wagging the over-200 million big-dog country of Brazil and the canine is crushed. The town’s city hall declared a 30-day period of mourning. Local schools were temporarily closed and even Christmas doings there will not be celebrated. (What makes these reactions even more heartfelt is that the town loves this team, though none of its players came from it.) This mostly agricultural area of the state of Santa Catarina is withdrawing into itself, reaping only sadness from sown seeds of such promise.

It has been nearly decided that the team will have its spot for the next three seasons in Brazil’s top league-guaranteed, with athletes being loaned to the team for free, for next season. And Ronaldo de Assis Moreira, Ronaldinho, has reportedly offered to play for the squad next season.  At no charge.
From Brazil’s champion soccer team, Sao Paolo’s Palmeiras, asking  the Brazilian Football Confederation if its players can wear Chapecoense colors for the last match of the season to Colombia’s Medellin filling its 40,000 seat-stadium with citizens in a “massive display of soccer solidarity” the team has struck a sad, but powerful chord. (Brazil was very appreciative Colombia’s outpouring of sympathy, twittering with the hashtag #GraciasColombia.)
 
The future? Chapecoense is/was/will be a community club. So community, not chicanery, will prevail again and honesty, not hijinks will again be the way of things. The town vows to rebuild the group, basing its hopes on these ennobling and enabling characteristics plus those of unity, transparency, and competency. It is sure it can again be toast of the town, and the belle of the Brazilian fùtbol ball.
​
Now, alas, comes controversy. 

From the aforementioned electrical failure, radioed to controllers at 10 PM local time,  to the BAe146 regional airliner, Avro RJ85 charter flight, operated by Bolivian charter company, LAMIA, also radioing that it was running out of fuel – thus requesting a priority landing - surely this reaction – of firing his country’s national aviation authority - by Bolivian President, Evo Morales, would seem an overreaction. But is it? The government is also suing LAMIA. The CEO of the company has been arrested. The pilot on the fateful flight had an ownership position. And one Bolivian Air Traffic controller, Celia Castedo, who claims her warnings were ignored in Bolivia BEFORE the plane had taken off, has fled to Brazil, and seeks asylum there.  

The dramatic reaction of the Bolivian government stems from the fact that the company may have disregarded aviation requirements about fueling regulations with respect to flight duration(s).    

On the horizon, due to Chapecoense’s winning all 6 of its last 2018 World Cup qualifying matches, giving merriment to this town, before crashing in this high-altitude rugged terrain, was to be this match, the first of  a 2-match “home-and-away” showdown, in South America’s second largest club tournament. It was considered with glee to be its most significant battle, its biggest game yet, in the plucky team’s 43 years.

Instead, days after, in the dark of night, in the rain, waited, for caskets, the home-town folk, with kids in clear plastic ponchos huddling close to parents, with some teens singing – all heartbroken, all lost – but finding among their team’s deathly disappearance, some hope...

...that perhaps this catastrophe will help show Brazil, a country many of its citizenry feel has lost its way, epitomized by Operation Car Wash, involving then President Dilma Rousseff’s government and state-run oil company Petrobras (of which she was chairman from 2003-2010) how to find its footing, and how to forge itself anew – by building a proper path, politically and athletically, to values – and victory.
​
Lord knows, it’s not a free kick. But Brazil – and the world - knows, it’s another shot.

Was Kane Petersen nuts? Got a two week-old son and Dad’s gotta hit high wire heights, THREE TIMES higher than his previous personal best?
​
His wife says rearing a new boy is scarier than anything, so she’s smart, and can predict the future - and is smart enough to have hubby do the skywalk in the present - but neither, surely, could have known that he’d almost lose everything because his right leg would cramp up - between tower peaks...on a windy - with gusts whooshing UPWARDS - daredevil Melbourne, Australian day - - - could they?

Did this funambulist/funambulator (for high wire/tight rope walking is called funambulism) cause a Kane Petersen brain cramp? Is that why he took on this trek firstly and got another cramp, a right leg one, secondly? But you know what? What was freaky was how Petersen so calmly lied supine on a wire while slowly, and carefully, shook out the twitches of the offending limb. To have one’s right leg muscles tighten some 300 meters (almost 1,000 feet) high - forcing a total change in cable-wire plans, is incredible.

Who is Kane? He’s a man without a net. Or at least for this meander in the Land Down Under, on a morning (and wouldn’t this freak out people dashing to work) with no safety net in sight.  

No worries.

Have to admire his physical ability, once the cramping cleared, to command his left leg to (and this is the ultimate one-leg-stair lift) propel his body vertical, starting from a position where his butt was BELOW the wire - to get his left foot back on the wire, facing forward straight ahead on the wire, then - cat-quick - get his right foot on the wire in front of the left - and after standing...legs wobbling (almost probably as much as his heart was pounding) to then finish off his act.

He was about halfway through the feat, which must have got him a bit upset knowing that getting there, through this test, and getting the last question wrong, would mean certain death - except...we’ll touch upon that certain-death part shortly.

Tough ordeal. Only took him a few minutes, though. To put his bravery into perspective, all told, on the roof, there looked to be only a few folks, including mom and dad, fearless enough to stand on solid, albeit high up, ground.

Now, as high wire deeds go, it doesn’t compare to Jay Cochrane walking 800 feet between the towers (some 300 feet high) of the Flamingo Hilton in Las Vegas - BLINDFOLDED - nor does it compare to the Flying Wallendas, who, through generations, have thrilled watchers with their high wire acts (and chilled watchers, with some horrifying deaths) nor does it boggle the mind like knowing that Jorge Ojeda-Guzman lived 205 days atop a high wire - - - but Kane could not have anticipated his leg cramping up. And, with the exceptions of Wallendas’s dying, they, Cochrane, and Ojeda-Guzman knew what they were getting into.

If wife, Jessica McCrindle, screamed “Eureka!” it would have sounded like a shameless property promotion. Everyone knew Eureka was the site. The Eureka Tower is the tallest residential building anywhere.

​For his Eureka excellence-in-balance, his wondrous walk between two peaks on the north-western side of this edifice - - - besides getting a massage for the right leg - would be getting his getting an oh-so thorough free look into his DNA, specifically into his DRD4 gene, which possibly/probably amped his thrill-seeking needs to hit the heights; just like some DNA makes maniacs ride bulls in rodeos or ride logs down mountains...

Where were we?

Oh, yea: some think his high wire act was basically a cakewalk, saying he used a safety harness attached to the wire and that, therefore the biggest risk he took was a possible fall in his prestige, rather than a cannon ball fall to his demise: his act, in other words, could be construed as lying if publicized as death defying.

His sky walking act was to help promote an upcoming movie, out this October, called “The Walk” about Philippe Petit. (Petit had no safety wire walking between the twin towers of New York’s World Trade Center.) Kane’s high-wire walk is, despite the harness, nevertheless unique: most of us can’t get off the field of play with a cramp – but this guy with his leg in spasms, contracting, surely hurting – had the mental presence to keep it together, let the pain subside – and carry on. Talk about from heaven to hell – to heaven again.

Wife and husband met on earth, at a circus.

Why isn’t that surprising?

Specifically, they joined in craziness and hijinks at the National Institute of Circus Arts.
​
But what is surprising is that the Petersen baby spent a week in intensive care – BEFORE – Dad’s 21-metre walkabout town!

Kids. What do they know?

Hard to say what Australia’s overall take on this. Sure, Petersen set an Australian record in this but remember that that country has record-breaking spiders and snakes in every scary category already.

Hard to say, too, how many, looking at his images on that high wire, thinks he looks a bit like Canada’s hunky Prime Minister, Justin Trudeau.)

Yet Australia did create “The Walk Experience” an illusion giving the impression of walking a tightrope over Melbourne. And Ross and John dug it. Of course, they were working for 3AW Breakfast Live, covering the sky-high stunt...

But 36-year old Kane, a former Ulverstone fellow (therefore a Tasmanian devil??!!) knows this: "I've just lived a dream just then, so it's fantastic".

Good thing he had the harness, and his amazing body-and-brain control prowess, otherwise his son’s life could have been a nightmare; wondering how life with Dad might have been.

The World’s First Bionic Olympics, The Cybathlon Championship, is man-and-machining our way.
 
Six disciplines with “assistive technologies” and no, we aren’t talking Performing Enhancing Drugs here, we’re talking, among other things, new-fangled prostheses, that are boosting the abilities of people with disabilities – will be exhibited. This Cyborgville of scientific skill and human will, will vaunt and vault, technology and techniques, the latter used by the subjects, humans...the “pilots” who, however, know - that while they are clearly more than props - realize, just as definitely – they are NOT - co-stars.

Here are the six disciplines.

Brain-Computer Interface Race (BCI); Functional Electrical Stimulation (FES) Bike Race; Powered Arm Prosthesis Race; Powered Leg Prosthesis Race; Powered Exoskeleton Race; Powered Wheelchair Race.

Why would powered wheelchairs be part of this? Aren’t we then talking motorized sports – that deal mostly with driving abilities, given that the power, stamina, and speed will be technological, not physical?

Went skeptical way too soon: who would not want to watch “athletes...tackle flights of stairs in the new wheel chairs...”

Will rubber tracks, mounted below the wheelchair wheels, take front and centre, and a well deserved bow - - - or will starfish mounts that are hand powered - once the wheel chair operator pops a wheelie to put the starfish as the surface contact point - be the recipient of applause - or will new approaches wrestling with stairs...take the cheering?

Reading of the Powered Arm Prosthesis Race and one of its entrants, Claudia Breidbach, being born without a left arm - and reading of the complexities involved in copying, at least on a fairly fundamental scope, the human hand, which apparently is, according to Monica Moreo a team leader of a competitor, DIPO Power - the MOST COMPLEX HUMAN ORGAN, leaves the laymen speechless, respectful, and wanting to learn more about the fields of biomechatronics. For instance, Monica avers that body-powered (as contrasted to externally powered) prosthetics could be affordable and within, no pun intended, the reach of many - as a source and a solution - to ramping up dexterity and galvanizing lifestyle self-reliance.

Notwithstanding Monica’s dedication to produce enhancements for the many, will this Cybathlon Championship - though impressive on intellectual, physical, emotional, and possibly spiritual levels - be stillborn, be nothing more than an haute couture display of largely unaffordable aids, or will it morph and become the mainstream runway of many, who will be able to avail themselves of such useful - and possibly one day affordable - technical changes and advancements?

Listen. Who, indeed, right now, can afford these technologies? Will any health care plans, in the States, or Canada, for example, be able to provide help in dollars?

For sure, these games will encourage. They might also discourage, or at least puzzle - maybe piss off - people who would love either themselves, or loved ones, to have increased mobility and improved communicative and rehabilitative possibilities - but can’t see through the financial barriers blocking the way(s).

And are there moral and ethical issues involved with improved assistive technology breakthroughs? Will some who get the best technologies be deemed “OK” and be treated as “normal” - thus ignored by family, friends, or professionals tired of pitching in and helping out? Might their non-disabled strengths and abilities be completely forgotten, or certainly overlooked, by themselves and their inner circle because of these super-duper deliverables? Will technologies be foisted on demented patients? Will the privacy of the patient or person, be threatened by technologies such as Telecare Devices, or be hacked by weirdos, wingnuts, savants, or miscreants drilling in to computer-data-sharing systems and services? We all know personal data for “normal folks” has been maliciously released. And, ironically, could some aids, in fact, reduce independence for people that don’t really need them? And how steep is the learning curve for recipients? Will they blow a gasket in the learning of all?

OK. While only the athletes will be in direct competition, their estimated 300 researchers, neuro-scientists, designers, biomedical-engineers, and kinesiology experts will be in it for bragging rights!

Zurich, Switzerland will host 80 teams from 25 countries, starting October 8th.

Robert Riener, a Swiss native, is the founder and one of the intellectual impetuses behind the Cybathlon - and while he has published some 389 papers – the industry - - - TOTALLY - of the so-called brainiest, including Robert, MUST COME UP, with sexier titles to attract the masses. Here is a conference paper title Robert and four co-authors came up with. Let’s hope it was arrived at late at night, around the kitchen table, with libations surrounding:

Evaluation of a mixed controller that amplifies spatial errors while reducing timing errors

This is not to say that Riener and confreres aren’t what they’re worth, they are. Kudos, thus, to Robert for rising above his titling of treatises to igniting and inciting this SWISS Cybathlon of athletes and academics, this Cyborg “Man and Machine competition alight - to become to us - as a human ONE.