knew someone would say something along those lines.....not out of the question in COLO...4 plants and a handshake.
knew someone would say something along those lines.....not out of the question in COLO...4 plants and a handshake.
My wife 'peaked' at 27 in her MTB career, had no real life 'skills', no college degree. Quit racing bikes at 32, owns her own multi-million dollar business-that does not involve selling pot or anything illegal.Just goes to show what happens when you peak in life a 27....or whatever, and have no marketable skill to fall back on....
Business sense counts as a marketable skill. I think anyone who is not a retard knows what I meant.My wife 'peaked' at 27 in her MTB career, had no real life 'skills', no college degree. Quit racing bikes at 32, owns her own multi-million dollar business-that does not involve selling pot or anything illegal.
Million in cash...wow.They also had $1 million in cash on them when they were caught (never keep the product and the cash in the same place) I know mtb was much more lucrative in the '90's than it is now, but that is not Missy's $$$$, if she is willing to talk, she may walk. (reduced sentence)
Yeah, but one bad line of clothing on the sales floor and you will hear from these people...My wife 'peaked' at 27 in her MTB career, had no real life 'skills', no college degree. Quit racing bikes at 32, owns her own multi-million dollar business-that does not involve selling pot or anything illegal.
You paint a broad stroke with your brush...shall I name more people that went on to be successful after 'peaking' in their 20s?...with no 'skills'?Business sense counts as a marketable skill. I think anyone who is not a retard knows what I meant.
please...Yeah, but one bad line of clothing on the sales floor and you will hear from these people...
http://www.fashionpolice.org/
Uh....I was agreeing with you.You paint a broad stroke with your brush...shall I name more people that went on to be successful after 'peaking' in their 20s?...with no 'skills'?
Thanks for the respect to the mrs'It was pretty obvious though that Leigh had a good head on her shoulders - she always presented herself in an articulate and thoughtful manner; the consummate 'pro'. Missy's most apparent trait was being 'gnar' 24/7. Both were entertaining to watch on the bikes, but one obviously transfers to post-bike life a little better than the other.
Grouse Mountain, Canada 2003It was in 2004 or something wasn't it?
I don't think Missile has Donte cash...and didn't Donte pay the family of the deceased as well?She needs Donté Stallworth's lawyer....
Right on Stik!My wife 'peaked' at 27 in her MTB career, had no real life 'skills', no college degree. Quit racing bikes at 32, owns her own multi-million dollar business-that does not involve selling pot or anything illegal.
Bird wasn't the only one he flipped on.I heard this whole case developed when Omar turned state's evidence.
As exciting and she would probaby be at times, I have different ideas of what would make a "nice" girl.Never met her, but seems like a nice girl.
I think Donte took the plea he did to avoid a civil case and having to pay.I don't think Missile has Donte cash...and didn't Donte pay the family of the deceased as well?
I was reading a lot of peoples twitter updates and a lot of them saying things like "I am not surprised" or "I didnt even have to guess when I heard a MTBer was arrested for drug trafficking"...>>>WTF? There was probably no one cleaner than Missy.I haven't talked to Missy in a few months so I can't say what's going on. Therefore, I am holding off on judging until the story comes out.
She seemed to be at a good point in her life and happy last time I talked to her. Many of you guys probably have hung out with her in the last few years at East Coast races and you know that she isn't some sort of thug. She would help anyone out if she could.
A lot of the opinions on her posted her seem to be way off base. Just for reference she was straight as an arrow while racing. I really wish I could post more.
JohnP: you should head down there and hook her up with some representation until she can hire an attorney.
Wise words, Chris. Seems like a public person cannot make any kind of mistakes. If anything happens, the hell breaks loose upon them. I don't know Missy any better than most of those who dare to thrash her now. I live in Argentina, and have learned of her skills on and off the bikes just via the Internet (as most of us do, I believe). Besides anything she could do, I will always remember her for being a wonderful athlete, and a non-conformist, sparkling lady...I haven't talked to Missy in a few months so I can't say what's going on. Therefore, I am holding off on judging until the story comes out.
She seemed to be at a good point in her life and happy last time I talked to her. Many of you guys probably have hung out with her in the last few years at East Coast races and you know that she isn't some sort of thug. She would help anyone out if she could.
A lot of the opinions on her posted her seem to be way off base. Just for reference she was straight as an arrow while racing. I really wish I could post more.
JohnP: you should head down there and hook her up with some representation until she can hire an attorney.
Man, if I had practiced law in the last 8 years, I might consider it!JohnP: you should head down there and hook her up with some representation until she can hire an attorney.
Because people are dumb and will buy anything. Plus the tee's will have foil print on them...oooooooooooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.
Would you do this for your neighborhood drug dealer as well?I was reading a lot of peoples twitter updates and a lot of them saying things like "I am not surprised" or "I didnt even have to guess when I heard a MTBer was arrested for drug trafficking"...>>>WTF? There was probably no one cleaner than Missy.
At any rate, my site www.freemissy.com should be live by days end, shirts being made asap, order online, etc....
It's 400 P-O-U-N-D-S. That's a sh1t load.I don't know Missy but I know people still going to jail over some tweed is
I hate to break this to you, but if she doesn't play with a ball (and we all know she doesn't play with balls), then she's not a pro athlete.She's a pro athlete so she'll be fine...right?
Agreed. I never knew her personally at all but met her at Snowshoe several times and she was nothing close to a "thug." Always super nice to everyone there and was super supportive of her fellow racers. I saw her numerous times giving other female racers tips, lines, etc before the race. Sucks that this happened and I'm sure she would be the first to admit that she screwed up in a bad way.I haven't talked to Missy in a few months so I can't say what's going on. Therefore, I am holding off on judging until the story comes out.
She seemed to be at a good point in her life and happy last time I talked to her. Many of you guys probably have hung out with her in the last few years at East Coast races and you know that she isn't some sort of thug. She would help anyone out if she could.
A lot of the opinions on her posted her seem to be way off base. Just for reference she was straight as an arrow while racing. I really wish I could post more.
JohnP: you should head down there and hook her up with some representation until she can hire an attorney.
See? THIS is the business sense I was talking about earlier!Because people are dumb and will buy anything. Plus the tee's will have foil print on them...oooooooooooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.
Maxed out
I fought the war
By G. D. Maxwell
"It was twenty years ago today,
Sergeant Pepper taught the band to play."
When the Beatles sang those first words on the eponymous track of Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band in 1967, nothing in my life had happened twenty years ago. But the driving chords, stabbing guitar and words were a hook that lodged in my - and I suspect almost everyone else's - head, an association that probably won't end until I end or dementia robs me of all but my earliest memories.
It was quite a few years later that I first began a sentence with that phrase. "It was twenty years ago..." The sound of those words, and the accompanying soundtrack spooling instantaneously through my head, froze me in my tracks and I dropped the sentence into the well of unfinished thoughts. "OMG, I didn't just say that, did I?" It shocked me that I was about to relate a tale of something or other that had happened, something I personally remembered experiencing, two decades earlier. It was an even greater shock to realize that whatever it was seemed so crystal clear and fresh in my memory.
It wasn't any easier the second time the words tumbled out, or the third or the fourth. But in time it became less traumatic. The music never stopped but the thoughts and stories continued. A pang of déjà vu tied me in a knot the first time I substituted 30 years for 20 as the milepost marking the sentence, but by then I'd grown accustomed to, if not comfortable with, the variant of relativity theories that makes time seem to accelerate the older we get, compressing ancient experiences into fresh memories and stupefying those around us who wonder why we're telling them tales older than they are.
The shock washed over me anew last month when I was reminded the various governments I've lived under for most of my life have been at war with me for, gulp, 40 years! Yes, boys and girls, it was 40 years ago - cue music - this July that Richard Nixon, the man we all thought had a lock on the Worst President Ever award until George Bush the Younger came along, declared war on drugs. Notwithstanding last month's announcement by the Office of National Drug Control Policy that the Obama administration will no longer use the term, the war continues to rage.
While I've tried to maintain a status of conscientious objector in the war on drugs, at least one side considers me an enemy combatant and would, if they could, spirit me away to any one of the many Gitmos scattered like so many high-security M&Ms across every community in North America. A shocking number of those prisons have been built solely to house, at great expense to the state and at even greater expense to the individuals, people who would rather unwind after a long day in the corporate trenches with a puff rather than with a socially-approved, government-taxed drink.
Oh, the governments pitched in the fevered battle never said they were squandering the money to incarcerate potheads, but during the last three of those four decades, the U.S. prison population serving time for drug crimes ballooned from around 41,000 to half a million. The stats for the first decade are lost to history because until war was declared, no one thought it significant enough to track.
Canadian tokers can feel slightly, but only slightly, safer pursuing their pleasure on this side of the border. While most Canuck cops don't pursue potheads with the same singlemindedness the assorted Sheriff Andys to the south do, Canadian prison populations are still swollen with people whose plan to live a perfectly normal, if somewhat stoned life, has been forever shattered by one of the stormtroopers from the other side of the trenches.
In an ironic way, Nixon's - and his successors' - War on Drugs eerily foreshadowed the precipitous decline in the U.S.' overall success rate in waging real wars against real(sic) foes. Let's see, since declaring war on drugs, the only real fighting war the U.S. has managed to "win" has been... Granada? Ah yes, the war to ensure the unfettered right of middle-class kids, with less than impressive academic records, to attend second-rate medical schools in tropical settings. It was a stirring sight, although no really good war songs managed to be written about it.
But like Vietnam, Iraq, Afghanistan and the War on Terror, the War on Drugs has been one long, inextricable quagmire, draining spirit, economic resources and vitality that could have been put to much better uses had anyone combined half a brain with political will.
Well into the 1960s, stories would emerge occasionally about some poor sap, some ancient Japanese soldier being discovered on a remote island in the South Pacific who was still fighting World War II. He'd be dressed in rags, emaciated, terminally perplexed and suspended in utter shock and disbelief when tourists in tacky Hawaiian shirts would try to explain to him, (a) the war was over and, well, had been for several decades, (b) they didn't know why no one had told him and, (c) oh yeah, you lost. With failing eyesight, compromised health and a shiny, well-oiled rifle, the confused samurai would descend into catatonia trying to decided whether these gaily-dressed people were in fact enemy soldiers in unusual camo or civilians bearing bad news.
North American governments at all levels are not far removed from those addled, ancient warriors. They see the evidence, they compile the statistics, they witness the social cost but they just can't believe the overwhelming message: THE WAR'S OVER - DRUGS WON!
Okay, maybe that message is too blunt. Drugs didn't win the war. Drugs never actually engaged in warfare. Drugs just are. And there will always be people who want to use them. Some will do so and get on with life. Some will meet a bad end. But it takes a certain kind of Einstein to ignore Einstein's admonition about fools who keep doing the same thing and expecting the outcome to be different. Governments have been fighting the same war with the same weapons and achieving the same results - failure - for four decades now. Isn't it about time to try something else? Something that doesn't waste enormous amounts of money that could be put to better uses? Something that doesn't turn potentially productive people into criminals? Something that doesn't make building and staffing prisons a growth industry?
Of course it is. And, of course, they won't. Maybe in another 40 years.
The folly of playing out this endless end game is slowly, glacially, becoming more clear to more people. We can't keep drugs out of maximum security prisons. How in the world are we going to suppress them in open, democratic societies?
But until someone wakes up all the old soldiers, the war continues.