Radio Free Dogpatch

You think we're shipping the wrong people to Guantanamo? I'm old enough to remember a time when, if some civilian loudmouth waltzed through your front door barking orders, you could kick him in the plums, give him the old heave and also the ho, and get back to whatever it was you were doing before all the bad noise started. Yet somehow, in the Year of Our Lard 2025, we've allowed this porcelain pissant from South Africa to start rearranging the national furniture, to say nothing of the org chart, without so much as a “Just who the hell elected you to anything, anyway, Fisheyes?” Raise a ruckus and you get frog-marched out the door, either to the breadline or maybe a gated beachfront community that doesn't feature in Beelzebozo's plans for the tourist trade. Meanwhile, our media watchdogs just keep licking their own nuts; chasing random brain farts down countless odiferous ratholes; and “fact-checking” the arsonists who are burning down the government faster and more thoroughly than the Brits did during the War of 1812. But be of good cheer: There's plenty of bark and bite to be had in the latest edition of Radio Free Dogpatch! • Technical notes: RFD favors the Ethos mic from Earthworks Audio; Audio-Technica ATH-M50X headphones; Zoom H5 Handy Recorder; Apple's GarageBand, and Auphonic for a wash and brushup. The Captain from "Cool Hand Luke" communicates to us from YouTube. The boot to the bollocks and subsequent heave-ho hail from Freesound. The French taunter you may recall from "Monty Python and the Holy Grail." Air travel to Gitmo, a newspaper's printing press running, and soldiers on the march courtesy of Freesound. "Twisted Clowns" honk at us from Zapsplat. And last, but far from least, that's Sam Cooke working the "Chain Gang." All the other gang violence is the fault of Your Humble Narrator.

The ICE boyos have brought a chill to Chicago, Aurora, and even the desert Southwest as Jesus Hitler starts making good on his promise of mass deportations. Round up the usual suspects. A little song and war dance for the TV cameras. “Dr. Phil” even got in on the act in Chicago. Shock and awe, baby. It works, for a while. But some folks just don't take kindly to being shoved around. Soon even the fanboys will find the price of admission to the Dingaling Bros-Barnum & Beelzebozo Circus ("There's One Born Every Minute!) just keeps going up, as honest immigrant workers vanish alongside the bad guys, citizens decline to take their jobs in agriculture, construction, manufacturing, food processing and service industries, and goods and services get more expensive and/or harder to find. But never fear. We'll be annexing Canada! And Greenland! And the Sudetenland (whoops, wrong fascists, never mind). The Circus will roll on a Road of Bones until the world is under One Big Red White and Blue Tent (handmade by skilled artisans in border internment camps)! While you await your own personal invitation to assist the authorities with this project (and their inquiries) you might as well listen to the latest All-American Episode of — yes, yes, yes — Radio Free Dogpatch. Could be the last one. You never know who's lending us an ear, or why. • Technical notes: RFD favors the Ethos mic from Earthworks Audio; Audio-Technica ATH-M50X headphones; Zoom H5 Handy Recorder; Apple's GarageBand, and Auphonic for a wash and brushup. The trailer theme from "Fort Apache" comes from YouTube, as do Rick's conversations with Major Strasser and Sam in "Casablanca." Bob and Doug McKenzie say "Good day" from SCTV's YouTube page. The drum-heavy martial music (by Gregor Quendel) and “Out of Step” are both courtesy of Zapsplat. The Mescalero Apache tribe's take on a member's run-in with an ICE agent can be found here. The Guardian reports on a Navajo experience. The Associated Press covered immigration raids in Chicago. At The Atlantic Mark Leibovich had some fun visiting Greenland, soon to be our 52nd state. And at the New Republic Matt Ford shredded the pestilential ordure dropped on birthright citizenship.

Blame the Wolf Moon. A vacationing wife. An acid flashback. Whatever. But when I blinked myself awake in the dark on Tuesday morning I had no idea where I was. If dementia runs in your family, as it does in mine, this can freak you right the hell out. But I found it oddly exhilarating. “Where am I? Who knows? Who cares? This is great!" And then I remembered. “Aw, shit. Trumpsylvania.” We're just a few all-too-short days away from the sequel to a movie I never wanted to see in the first place. "Mr. Hyde Goes to Washington" should've been a one-off. But nooooooo. Everything has to be a franchise now. When the Joker started getting top billing we should've known what was coming. It's just one evil clown after another. • Technical notes: RFD favors the Ethos mic from Earthworks Audio; Audio-Technica ATH-M50X headphones; Zoom H5 Handy Recorder; Apple's GarageBand, and Auphonic for a wash and brushup. The wolf howls from Freesound, as do the sad trombones and the vinyl scratching. "Morning Mood" is from "Peer Gynt" by Edvard Grieg. Arthur, King of the Britons, chatting with an anarcho-syndicalist peasant come from "Monty Python and The Holy Grail." You'll catch a snippet of the "Grapes of Wrath" theme in there too (almost went with "Death Valley Days."). The ass-kissing is by Your Humble Narrator. The sound effect, not the actual, y'know, like, obesiance. And the classic "There Stands the Glass" is courtesy of Ted Hawkins via YouTube. As usual, all the other raving can be pinned on the landlord of this dump.

Another Jan. 6 has come and gone. This time we managed to skip the armed-insurrection part of the program, so yay for us. Turns out that when they win a presidential election, The System works. Who knew? Watching Vice President Kamala Harris preside over the certification of the 2024 election results this week sent me careening down Memory Lane, revisiting a night in the sneezer in 1977, a Louis C.K. dramedy from 2016, and the last three pestilential erections. Background music comes from Danny O'Keefe, AC/DC, The Cars, and Billy Joe Shaver, all thanks to YouTube. The 2016 dramedy "Horace and Pete" remains available on Louis C.K.'s website. Audio of the 2024 election-results certification courtesy C-SPAN. Dana Carvey as Ross Perot on "SNL" was lifted from YouTube. Bill Clinton comes (har de har har) from the William J. Clinton Presidential Library. The Walk of Shame is from HBO's "Game of Thrones." The headline is a riff on Bob Dylan's "Highway 61 Revisited," not incidentally in honor of RFD's 61st episode. Finally, ask not for whom the clown horn honks; it honks for thee (from Freesound). All other evil racket is courtesy of Your Humble Narrator.

I always liked science fiction. Science, not so much. Science always seemed rigid and impersonal. But science fiction, or speculative fiction, if you prefer — especially of the apocalyptic variety — spoke to the gloomy bog-trotter in my DNA. So I studied the fiction instead of the science, with predictable results. When it came time for me to go to college, there was only one in the state that would accept me with my miserable GPA. However, I was excused from freshman comp because I was a fool for words, as long as there were no equations to solve. SF seems best to me when the future isn't pretty, but people manage to muddle through somehow. "A Clockwork Orange." "Alas, Babylon." Or "Station Eleven." We watched the "Station Eleven" TV series on Max, recently watched it again, and afterward I finally got around to reading the book, which as usual is considerably different. Author Emily St. John Mandel was gracious about the changes, though, saying she thought the series "deepened the story in a lot of really interesting ways." I doubt that I'm adding any significant depth with this latest episode of Radio Free Dogpatch, but the notions contained therein have been taking up space in my head for a while now and the Voices would like them to leave. They're your problem now. • Technical notes: RFD favors the Ethos mic from Earthworks Audio; Audio-Technica ATH-M50X headphones; Zoom H5 Handy Recorder; Apple's GarageBand, and Auphonic for a wash and brushup. NASA noises, starship flyby, countryside ambience and appreciative audience come from Zapsplat. “Wernher von Braun” is the work of the inimitable Tom Lehrer The Celtic tune is from Freesound. And the outro clip is from The Firesign Theatre's "I Think We're All Bozos On This Bus," which remains all too relevant. All other evil racket is courtesy of Your Humble Narrator.

When the John Laws collared their suspect in the CEO assassination he was said to have had in his possession a ghost gun, some fake I.D., and a 262-word "manifesto." By the ghosts of Marx and Engels! That's what I call phoning it in. Except our man didn't use a phone to compose it. Or a laptop. It was handwritten. Whether on papyrus, stone tablets, or a shithouse wall was not made clear. What is abundantly clear, however, is that 262 words do not a manifesto make. And let me tell you why. "The Internationale (Traditional)" and "The Internationale (Death Metal Edition)" both come from YouTube. The typewriter comes from Freesound. The police siren, screeching tires, ballpoint scribbling, and game-show buzzer come from Zapsplat. All other evil racket is courtesy of Your Humble Narrator.

At The Atlantic magazine,  Noah "Fargo" Hawley says too many reporters are writing fiction these days. Meanwhile, in a fund-raising email from Mother Jones magazine, David Corn warns that the legacy media's value-neutral, highly inaccurate reviews of the various hams auditioning for parts in the Pestilence-Erect's latest play constitutes a form of “sanewashing." Hey, our little purse pooch of a podcast may not lift the biggest leg on the journalistical block, but it dearly loves a good pissing contest. While the big dogs go high we'll squeak in a little squirt down low. The music, "Black Fedora" and "On the Job," and the droning sounds of networking and chanting all come from Zapsplat. All other evil racket is courtesy of Your Humble Narrator.

The headline is an inside joke among family and friends, a line of dialogue lifted from the 1978 novel "Panama," by Thomas McGuane. And now it's the title of a Radio Free Dogpatch podcast, a unsubtle bit of misdirection concerning an oversized orange turd that has proven impossible for a confused and bilious nation to flush. My apologies to Mr. McGuane. Sly and The Family Stone contributed a few seconds of "Family Affair" from their YouTube channel. Freesound kicked in a dog whining, a power failure, an internet outage, a garbage truck, and an elephant trumpeting. And Judge Dredd issued his ruling from YouTube.  All the other racket comes courtesy of The Proprietor.

Wherever shalt thou see a man on horseback, there also shalt thou see a horse's ass. And sometimes more than one of them, too. That's Scripture, son! There would be less pearl-clutching in the national media over Orange Julius Caesar doing exactly what we all expected he would do had some button-down editors worn their family jewels to the Big Dance. Alas, they did not, and now they are shocked — shocked! — that a circus needs clowns. Fanfare and gibbons from Freesound. "Out of Step" from Zapsplat. Folding chair to the skull from YouTube. Everything else is the fault of the proprietor.  

There's nothing like getting the old one-two, a bacterial sock to the snotlocker followed by an electoral blow to the breadbasket. For treatment we visit the witch doctors of The Firesign Theatre, SNL's "Theodoric of York, Medieval Barber," and that sniffling eejit behind the mic at Infernal Hound Sound. The background music, "Abandoned," comes from Zapsplat. 

I'm not running away to Canada. I'm just running away from the news. There's lots of bad noise out there on the day after Election Day 2024. So naturally I felt compelled to add to the cacophony. You're welcome. Gunfire by Freesound. The rest of the racket was homemade.

The Not-So-Great Pumpkin is floating into Albuquerque this morning, a bit late for the International Balloon Fiesta, but just in time for Halloween. Nobody knows just why he's visiting a blue town in a blue county in a blue state in the final days of his campaign for The Big Gig. Maybe it's just a pit stop to pick up a bunch of burgers to carry him through until Election Day. For sure he's not popping round to pay us the $200K he owes us for his last visit. If this crook is stiffing Rudy the Mook for legal fees you know we'll never see a nickel. The balloon burner and street-organ sounds come from Freesound. Everything else is my fault.

"He is risen" is not a phrase we associate with Halloween. More of an Easter thing, actually. Unless we're discussing this podcast, which was last seen (heard) alive in Easter 2023. And now, with Halloween cackling on the horizon, the bloody thing has clawed its way out of its grave and is headed for your place with designs on your ears. Music is courtesy of Zapsplat. Crickets come to you from Freesound. All the rotten racket is the work of the moldering old stiff who ramrods this graveyard.

Spring isn't a date on the calendar. It's more of a feeling. A warm one, if you're lucky. For me, the vernal equinox is rarely the starter's pistol. I don't hear that big bang until Herself asks whether her Soma Double Cross is ready to ride after a long winter's nap on its hook in the garage. By that reckoning, spring arrived in The Duck! City on April 9, Easter Sunday. It was a few degrees short of ideal — I like to think of spring as that time when I can unsheath the arms and knees, charge those solar batteries, collect a little free vitamin D. But if we had to roll out in arm and knee warmers, so what? As you know, you go to ride with the spring you have, not the spring you might want or wish to have at a later time. Music and sound effects are courtesy of Zapsplat (shoutout to David-Gwyn Jones for "Looking Back Over the Hill"); the Free Music Archive (a snappy salute to the U.S. Army Blues for "Walk That Dog"), from "Live at Blues Alley"); Freesound; and Your Humble Narrator.

Birthdays. Some of us get overserved, others get 86'd with the cork barely out of the bottle. Whoever's in charge of this party seems a bit random. Can't tell the top shelf from the well, the class from the dross. Proper ladies and gents given the shove while the most appalling tossers have the run o' the place. Herself is back east with family and friends to raise a belated parting glass to a lifelong friend felled by COVID last fall. I'm right here, having charge of the cat. But recently I spoke with my old comrade Charles "Live Update Guy" Pelkey, who has taken a few sucker punches since a cancer diagnosis a dozen years ago but is still on his feet in Laramie, all bouncers be damned. It may be my birthday that's on tap come Monday, but I'd buy Charles a round to celebrate his most recent lap around the sun, may it not be his last.  And I wish I could give Herself's pal Sue a few more birthdays. I've had more of them than I expected, certainly more than I deserve, and her candle was blown out far too soon.

The bitter economic headwinds prove too much for some in the peloton of cycling journalism. It's a rough old road, especially when you ride it on the rivet in the bloody gutter of vulture capitalism. The sport is pricey to do, and to cover. Advertising is a hard sell. Memberships and subscriptions can only take you so far. Old pros lose the wheel; newcomers hope to find some form. Above the course floats the vulture capitalist, riding the ill wind, never missing a musette. It's all feed zone for that scavenger, from the grand depart to the finish line.  Give a thought to your favorite former cycling scribe the next time you can't find any of that information that wants to be free. There's ain't no such thing as a free lunch. Unless you're a buzzard.

The Voices and I have been having a meeting of the minds as to exactly why we want to belly-flop back into this sonic kiddie pool, a shallow backwater that drains feebly and sporadically into the Great Audio River. But apparently we're at least one mind short. However, we do not lack for Voices. And they all have their own microphones because somebody around here got a little acquisitive a couple years back. If we don't pipe them into your heads, they'll keep hanging around in ours. Sorry about that.

The zombie podcast Radio Free Dogpatch awakens after a two-year dirt nap, scuttles out from beneath its filthy blanket of mulch, litter, and snow, and shambles about looking for something (or someone) to eat. Or at least listen.

Patrick O'Grady used to wheelsuck the bike magazines to spring break in Arizona or California. Then the biz wised up and he had to stick his own snoot into the breeze. Until last year, when like many of us, he enjoyed all the travel of a rigid aluminum fork. And now, in Year Two of the Plague, he's stuck — because he hasn't been stuck.

When Texas sank back into the Ice Age, Patrick O'Grady was reminded of the good old days on a wind-scoured rockpile outside Weirdcliffe, Colorado, where the power shut off whenever it was most inconvenient, the candle lanterns and Coleman two-burner were close at hand, and a Lopi fireplace insert and a tall woodpile kept the toilets from exploding like a bottle of beer left overlong in the freezer.

Trucks with beds and friends with couches saw Patrick O'Grady through his rambling, gambling years, as he rolled the dice with one newspaper after another. He eventually came up winners by leaving the business altogether. Marrying well didn't hurt, either. The citizens of "Nomadland" have traveled a rougher road.  And they're still on it. This stray dog was struck by Jessica Bruder's book, and he can't wait to see Chloé Zhao's film.

There's something about February that's guaranteed to set a Mad Dog to howling. This time it's Impeachy the Clown as the opening act for our local bozos and their buses. Did everyone forget to lock their wigs before their moment of simulated exhilaration, or what?

Lockup got you down? Fortress of Solitude starting to smell like feet, fast food, and farts? Well, Clark, turn off that Zoom cam, take off the glasses, and see if you can still clear your top tube in a single bound.

Being on lockdown is like watching a bad movie. Sure, it sucks, but if you bail early, you might miss something. Or catch something. Why not just lean back, put your feet up, and enjoy (hating) the show? The credits will roll soon enough. And we know who's not getting a best-director Oscar for this hot mess. Say, is it just me, or does this soda taste like bleach?

Patience, like yeast, beans, and toilet paper, is just one more thing that people are running short of as the lockdown drags on. Patrick O'Grady tapped his supply to get through eight weeks with a broken ankle, but thinks he has a little bit left over to deal with The Bug.

It's tough to take baby steps with 66-year-old feet. Especially when one of ’em doesn't work all that well. But jolly old Doc O'Grady feels it's prudent to hobble out to check society's temperature now and then, especially when cabin fever is starting to feel as deadly as any other bug.

Staying at home, social distancing — these practices aren't jailin', but they're not exactly living' large, either. Sure, your cell is a little bigger, the guards a little less present, the food better. It's just that you'd rather be on the streets. But listen to an old con — let that time do itself.

Anyone who says "three's a crowd" didn't see the antisocially undistant hordes infesting some Duke City's trailheads on Sunday, a day before New Mexico's governor went on TV to holler, "Don't make me stop this state and come back there!" As a consequence we must endure Potrick calling various kettles black.

Working from home isn't for everyone. But weirdos like Patrick O'Grady wouldn't be remotely employable if they couldn't be employed remotely. Sure, he takes a lot of really loud meetings with the voices in his head. But they never complain to HR, so it's all good.

The Plague is upon us, we're quaking under the comforter, and someone is bringing us a plastic bowl of industrial soup and some dried-up old white crackers. Say, who is that wearing Mom's apron, anyway?

Nursing a broken ankle and crazed on antihistamines, Patrick O'Grady tries to make sense of Super Tuesday a day late and a peso short, and as usual, fails utterly. Lo siento mucho.

Patrick O'Grady has a bad habit of rolling ... ankles. He gave up rolling the other stuff ages ago. Which is too bad, really, because if he'd been rolling a blunt last Friday morning he wouldn't have been rolling an ankle during a trail run. And some other poor sap would have gotten this low-tech pair of crutches, and this podcast wouldn't be two days late and more than a dollar short. Just say no, kids.

You got your AM, and over here, you also got your FM. And over there, you got your fat boys wanting to take it away from you. Longtime listener-member Patrick O'Grady deejays a brief, one-man pledge drive for NPR.

A discussion at maddogmedia.com about distraction-packed land yachts causes Patrick O'Grady to recall (and resurrect) a 2014 Bicycle Retailer and Industry News column about the auto industry's drive to make cars smarter than their drivers.

Republicans want a king. Democrats want a messiah. And Patrick O'Grady just wants to get through his 30th podcast without being struck by lightning (or Lee Trevino).

Riding trails when they're muddy, like encountering an unguided SUV drifting into the bike lane, is gonna leave a mark. Just ask Patrick O'Grady, who will tell you all about it even if you don't ask.

"Comparisons are odorous," as Dogberry declares in "Much Ado About Nothing." Small wonder, then, that a Mad Dog is stinking up the Innertubes with his comparisons of Il Douche's impeachment trial to a Christmas gone wrong, school "pep" assemblies, and the nuance- and nutrition-free nothingburgers pitched at us by Mickey D and Mickey M.

For a cyclist, fixing a flat is part of the price of admission to the game. And a garrulous potato-eater like Patrick O'Grady occasionally finds a tale in the travail. Or a podcast. ...

Patrick O'Grady still keeps a training diary, though he's not training for anything other than being Patrick O'Grady. You'd think he'd have that down by now.

Winter seems colder than usual this year. We've already seen a White Walker in Albuquerque, and he's looking for his Social Security check.

The trouble with being your own IT guy is that you're being your own IT guy when you should be being whatever the hell it is that you really are. Just ask Patrick O'Grady. Then move over.

What can society do to punish some well-heeled, ne'er-do-well swell deemed too big to fail into jail? How about a stint in the stocks? To paraphrase Marsellus Wallace from "Pulp Fiction," let's get medieval on their ass. Patrick O'Grady is already pitching.

Patrick O'Grady muses on a few close calls en route to turning 65, including one right before The Big Day.

Patrick O'Grady nearly bought a Honda Element. Twice. The second time he had the book thrown at him. The Kelley Blue Book, that is.

In this special Shut-Ins Edition of Radio Free Dogpatch, a snowbound Patrick O'Grady revisits a February 2004 escape to McDowell Mountain Regional Park in sunny Arizona.

Where's the bike business headed? Anyone seen magnetic north lately? Maybe it's going south like everything else. Patrick O'Grady swaps his GPS for a Magic 8-Ball, but it keeps telling him "Reply hazy, try again."  

Wilbur Ross, the Man in the $600 Embroidered Slippers, doesn't understand why furloughed federal workers visit food banks instead of the other sort. Maybe it's because they're pretty certain they won't see him there anytime soon. Recorded using a Zoom H5 Handy Recorder and Shure SM58 mic. Edited on a 2014 MacBook Pro using Apple's Garageband. "Ahoy, polloi," lifted from "Caddyshack" using Rogue Amoeba's Audio Hijack. The background music, "Stay Away," comes from www.zapsplat.com. Dog eating from peridactyloptrix via www.freesound.org. Remember, Wilbur, the Big Dog always eats last.

The pestilence of the Benighted States, Wally O'Steele, a.k.a. Art O. DeDeal, wants a Big, Beautiful Wall at the nation's southern borders to keep brown people from crossing the border to work anywhere other than at his hotels or golf courses. Unable to pry loose funding for same, he has walled off the feddle gummint from its own citizens, idling more than a few of them in the process and forcing others to work without pay. It's a hard reign, and the water — if that's what it is — just keeps rising.

We're off on another lap around the sun, but we're flying blind — the big yellow ball is nowhere to be seen, though we seem to have plenty of ice and snow for anyone who likes that sort of thing. Our winter weather is a mouse fart compared to the shit monsoon swamping the nation's capital, though, and with the Chinese more interested in exploring the moon than the wowie-zowies of Apple's latest and greatest black monolith, Patrick O'Grady wonders how much longer it'll be before we're all clubbing each other around the water hole again. Ook ook ook. • Show notes: Recorded on a 2012 MacBook Air using an Audio-Technica AT2035 mic, a Focusrite Scarlett 2i2 and Rogue Amoeba's Audio Hijack. Edited on a 2014 MacBook Pro using Apple's GarageBand, with voiceovers run through an Audio-Technica 2100-USB mic and a Behringer Xenyx 1204USB mixer. Doc Strangelove and his backup band, Monkey and the Monolith, courtesy Stan Kubrick, who's dead and won't ever know. Car wheels spinning on the ice from Freesound.org. Blizzard and snow shoveling recorded with a Sony ICD-UX533.

With the 2018 cyclocross nats going on in Louisville and some very un-’crosslike weather going on in Albuquerque, Patrick O'Grady is reminded of one dusty pre-season in 2002 when it seemed that both sides of the street were sunny, and a little too much so. Recorded using a Shure SM-58 mic, a Focusrite Scarlett 2i2, Rogue Amoeba's Audio Hijack and a 2009 iMac. Background music is "Newborn," a jingle lifted from Apple's iMovie, which also supplied the "Medal Ceremony" opener.

“Science finds, industry applies, man conforms.” That was the subtitle to the guidebook for the 1933 Chicago World's Fair, and 85 years later it seems to hold up.  It brings to mind change, my reflexive resistance to same, and a 2013 "Mad Dog Unleashed" column from Bicycle Retailer and Industry News. This episode was recorded with a Shure SM58 microphone, Rogue Amoeba's Audio Hijack, and the old 2009 iMac. Cap'n Whitebeard used an Audio-Technica ATR2100-USB mic. I edited the audio using Apple's GarageBand on a 2014 MacBook Pro. The  background music is "Into the Sunset" from Audio Hero via ZapSplat.com, and the sounds of the sea come from Freesound.org.