By Dean Adamsby ohlin metzeler
Thursday, April 13, 2006
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
CONTACT: The Lightspeed Divorce Corporation (866) GET-AWAY
HARMONY, IN (VPI) There’s a lot of rabble out there that claim that the end of the world is coming up on us really, really fast, like Valentino Rossi on a riding mower closing on your sorry butt while you’re pushing a wheezing, walk-behind Snapper.
Those that believe the End is Nigh support this premise by listing a number of strange, disturbing and entirely unexpected occurrences that have taken place recently that serve as foretellers of the End Times.
And I have to admit; if you look at some of the evidence you might think they have a point. I mean, look at stuff. Regard your surroundings and the wider world around you for a moment. You got the turmoil in the Middle East. Oil’s hitting $70 a barrel. Human beings, long thought to be somewhere near the top of the food chain, have actually stopped hunting and gathering and are watching reality television. A motorcycle (granted, it’s a very big motorcycle) has an air bag that inflates when you T-bone a Hummer. Cows that were angry have become Mad, and chickens are sneezing, blowing their beaks, and keeling over. And perhaps most terrifying of all (and I think this is mentioned in the Book of Revelation somewhere), Macintosh computers are now able to run Windows natively, with Apple’s blessing. Oh. My. God.
Am I creeping you out? Hey, I’m warning you, it gets worse. As if the short list listed above wasn’t long enough to fill you with dread and make you keep your helmet on at all times, we have the biggest tear in our Cosmic Leathers of all:
Kenny Roberts and Honda are now married.
Hey, you were warned, man. I tried to spare you the strangeness, but it happened. And now, it’s best to grab the bull by the tail and face the situation. Incidentally, that expression comes from W.C. Fields who composed it on a Mac well before they could run Windows. I think.
Anyway, let us return to the present. The King’s motorcycle chassis is wed to a Honda V-5 engine, which means Kenny is essentially married to the rather stunning MotoGP motor. In fact, he was not just a newlywed when we saw him in Daytona, oh no. He was a giddy newlywed, who stated that the honeymoon wasn’t over yet.
Yep, you read that right. I said he was giddy.
An aside: Like most creatures long thought to be somewhere near the top of the food chain, I’ve never seen Roberts giddy before. Granted, a giddy Kenny Roberts is exactly like a non-giddy Kenny Roberts except for the fact that the pinky on his throttle hand is slightly more extended than usual. Oh, and he uses words like “overjoyed” and “passionate,” and even “honeymoon.”
It was a shocking thing to see, but it was real. This is a pairing that was totally unexpected, kind of like John Kocinski marrying a giant dust bunny or Jim Allen marrying the Michelin Man, who by the way is really a woman (but still a radial).
But Kenny and Honda have joined, and (as we always do, day in and day out ’round here) we have scooped some stunning poop on this union.
“Incredible!” you say. “Yet another Scoop from Soup? How oh how do you find this poop?”
Man, you do scare me when you shriek like Dr. Seuss high on race fuel fumes and kielbasa. Now stop hunting and gathering for a moment, pull up a Bultaco and I’ll explain.
Now, repeat after me:
We get our poop ’cause we’re in the loop, and that’s the source of the poop we scoop.
You see? I can Seuss when I have to. We all can. It’s all part of rock-hard journalism, the kind of taut, tuned and in-your-visor reportage that we do day in and day out ’round here.
We’re not like the Others.
We have some sources that are really potent, man. They are often unnamed, untamed and unreal, and I mean that last bit literally.
But when you have such a source, a dedicated dweeb who will follow Kenny Roberts day in and day out and literally shinny up the drain pipe of a huge skyscraper, bore a hole through the side of the structure, sneak in and peer over the transom of the office door of a famous TV “Doctor” and observe a top secret counseling session, well, you get the poop we scoop.
And our Unnamed, Untamed and Unreal source did just that, and observed Roberts, Dr. Phil and Mrs. Roberts, a.k.a. Honda’s gorgeous V-5 MotoGP engine, in a heated counseling session designed to keep the marriage intact. Hey, it’s hard work being hitched and eventually the honeymoon does come to an end. Our source was discovered by a passing Large Man with a walkie-talkie and subsequently ejected from the location, but he heard plenty beforehand and has provided the following brief transcript. Apparently the V-5 spoke through a computer interface, which was a Mac using Windows software and generating a voice not unlike Steve Jobs mixed with Bill Gates, with the throaty sexiness of Sharon Stone thrown in to add femininity.
DR. PHIL:
If this marriage is gonna work, yew both need to understand one thang: Trust. Yew have got to have trust in each other. And communication. Okay, that’s two thangs. And reliability. Yew’ve got to understand that, too. Okay, there’s a whole mess o stuff yew’ve got ta understand. But let’s start with trust.
ROBERTS: I think I trust Honda. Although I think she’s done some things in the past that have driven away some good men who twisted her throttle. On second thought, maybe I don’t trust her completely.
HONDA: What do you mean? What are you talking about?
ROBERTS: Well, you were with Rossi who is a God-like rider, and yet he left. You were together for years and then something happened. You did something, clearly, that pushed him away.
HONDA: He was a child! He was immature! And flighty! He saw that hot young Yamaha in the garage next to us and he strayed off! It wasn’t my fault. (crying)
DR. PHIL: Here, Honda, have a tiss-yew. Yew’re upset.
HONDA: A tissue?! What, are you saying I’m leaking? I’m a leaker? I’m a Honda. I don’t leak, bullet head.
DR. PHIL: Now now.
ROBERTS: Well, maybe it wasn’t your fault Valentino left. Maybe it was the chassis. It may have gotten fat. Many do. You’re with me now. I’ll make sure your chassis won’t get fat. Trust me.
DR. PHIL: Very good, Kenny. Yew are reaching out. Honda, do yew trust Kenny?
HONDA: Well, I guess so. He did used to call me names, but he seems to like me now. Will you give me a great chassis? The hottest in the paddock?
ROBERTS: I’ll do my very best. I’m a hard worker. And to show you how much I trust you, I’m going to let my son ride you. We’ll be a real family.
HONDA: Oh Kenny. Now I am leaking. I think I have a hole in my water pump.
ROBERTS: We’ll fix that. I’m taking care of you, now.
DR. PHIL: I think muh work here is done.
HONDA: Damn. I’ve made a puddle.
ROBERTS: (TO DR. PHIL) Hey, aren’t you really just that Hey Now guy on the Larry Sanders show?
