Steve A, over at DFW Point-to-Point, has come right out and said that I'm an agent of Satan. I've been called many things over the years, the usual litany of perceived insults that people hurl at cyclists. On one memorable occasion, a highly irate local redneck went to the vilest one he could think of at the moment. He called me (gasp!) a liberal! Now, normally I don't cover politics here on CycleDog, unless it has to do with my friend, fellow traveler, and accomplice in crime, Dr. Walter Crankset, and I won't go off on a tangent about politics now. Suffice it to say that I stand to the left of center, something that's not terribly difficult to accomplish here in Oklahoma, particularly if you have any sort of education and the combined abilities to reason and read.
But religion is another matter entirely. Oh sure, Wally treats it as a scam, just another way to fleece the flock, separating the gullible from their cash and allowing them to walk away happy. I take it much more seriously, however, and to be called one of Satan's agents is a personal affront. An agent is a management position. I'm firmly on the side of labor, so it would be impossible for me to be an agent. No, no, I'm a union steward in Hell.
Oh, you didn't know that Hell is unionized? Of course it is! What better way to torture Republicans for all eternity? I work in the Temptation Wing with all those shiny objects that people covet. There are six other wings. My local is the Amagamated Imps and Demons Local 514. We have embroidered hats with the logo. Seven wings, seven deadly sins. See how it works out?
Then again, you may be wondering about that number - 514. Yep, there are at least that many locals, one or more in every town, in fact.
My job is to dangle shiny objects in front of people, things they'll covet. That's the first step toward greed. For the last couple of months, it's been old cameras. But nearly any highly polished piece of metal will do. Some can't withstand the allure of gold or silver. Gems and jewelry attract them like a porch light attracts moths. Many of my co-workers fall for Snap-On tools, motorcycles, or powerful automobiles.
But the easiest ones to seduce with something shiny are those dumb cyclists! Honestly, they'll sell their own children for the latest titanium widget, and that's only to replace last year's titanium widget. They spend ever increasing amounts of money for something that weighs less and less. I think there's some mathematical formula calculating that if we could only reduce the weight of a bicycle to under five pounds, they'd give us an amount equivalent to the national debt.
The UCI opposes all this, of course, because they work for the Other Guy. Most people don't believe that, and it's been one of our better success stories. It's been a genuine help at recruiting time.
All those magazines and websites touting the latest unobtainium bike, well, we run them from my wing. And just to show that we're equal opportunity guys, we even have those anti-establishment 'bike culture' types on the payroll too. Oh, they sneer at the mainstream bike businesses, but in their hearts they lust after some shiny, tastefully color-coordinated fixed gear bike too.
And the racers, those mincing snobs who won't deign to talk to mere 'Freds'? They're a wholly owned subsidiary. When they finally arrive here in Hell, we put them to work assembling department store bikes. They still get to race, but they have to ride those machines too. It's a real win-win scenario as they get tortured for eternity, the bikes torture the people who buy them, and we profit from it all. What a deal!
So why am I telling you this? Won't it give away our plan to subjugate all those pathetic, weak-willed humans without the self-control to turn away from that oh-so-attractive candleflame? Ha! None of you will believe it anyway, so it will continue right under your noses and before your very eyes.