There is a grotesque harmony at work, in the depths of urban sprawl.

 With the slumbering of the sun, life's social refuse filters out onto the streets. From within the shadowy underworld, of graphetti-strewn alleyways and neon-splattered booze cans, local addicts congragate, in scanty, diminutive tribes. Clothed in ragtag uniforms of earthy tones and dark shades, they blend in with the bleak nature, of their drab, industrial ecosystem. Stealthy passing from destination to destination, under the camouflage of night, clan members seek each other out. Unable to conceal their jerky, spastic movements, their symptoms of withdrawl go noticed by all who pass them by. Retreating into the storefront alcoves, is only a temporary reprieve from curious onlookers, as they continually roam in search of their next, quick fix. The cycle is so prevailent, one can set their watch, by the skittish look in their eyes.

 Just to the outskirts of the posh entertainment district, and bordering yet another ghetto, is the "Gay Village". A safezone. Where glamerous, upscale streetwalkers feel safe to openly ply their trade, and leather-clad, booted men walk hand-in-hand. Flesh here can be purchased in both genders, as well as genders created by modern science. Sex is easily acquired anywhere, and at any hour. Simpley nodding one's head, will elicit you the services of any exquisitely groomed, PVC clad prostitute for the evening. Across the street, indescriminite sex of the male persuasion, can be obtained by paying a bathhouse cover charge. Which procures for one a private room, towel, showering facilities, and all skin you can physically handle. At the end, along with the seamen and spit, one can scrub away both the guilt, and memories of the experience. In one, quick, methol-scented shower. Cloaked in murky, obscure lighting, it is not inconceivable, that you may never even see the person's face during the entire experience. Which might work to one's advantage. Especially if you truly hate yourself, after.

 Within all these sordid behaviours resides a sense of harmony. Albeit a dysfunctional one.

 Gh0sT

I finally had the priviledge, of seeing the long-awaited biography of Gregg Valentino. Entitled "Gregg Valentino: The Man Who's Arms Exploded", his story debuted on The Learning Channel last week. Rare is the occasion I flog anything. However, as openly disturbing and graphic as this documentary was to watch, I would suggest it to anyone. In fact, I would go so far as to say, it's almost mandatory viewing. Especially if you've ever had body issues yourself, or played any type of sport, where athletic ability and image play a key factor.

 To summerize.....Gregg Valentino, although not a "professional body builder", posesses the largest arms in the world. A record 27.6 inches. YES. YOU READ THAT RIGHT. That's the equivalent of some people's waist size. And that's 27.6 inches "cold" (whichs means the muscles haven't yet been pumped up from a workout). As if that wasn't insanely large, they're attached to a man only 5'6" tall. One writer had given Gregg the dubious title "The Most Hated Man in Bodybuilding". Not because he's outdone almost eveyone in the pro circut. But because Gregg is what alot of pro bodybuilders are not: He's HONEST. And HONESTY, is NOT something those in the pro bodybuilding buisness (The key word being "buisness". Because, let's face it: They're in it to make money.) are accustomed to being. In fact, being so, would be counter-productive. They rely on your ignorace and poor self image, to make them rich. Every product you buy, based on an advertisement in one of their countless magazines, puts yet another dollar, into their already mulit-BILLION dollar industry. They get rich, from the money you spend. Money spent trying to achieve something that is almost an impossibility. Unless you take the route Gregg did.

 Which leads to the one word synonymous with bodybuilding: Steriods.

 "I'm not a role model". One of the first things Gregg says during any interview. Which is not necessairly true. In a sense, he's right. Watch this documentary, and you'll be shocked at how the man is even still alive. Having lived the life he has thus far. So in that aspect, he's right. If anything, his life is a model on how NOT to be. However, Gregg is incorrect in one aspect: He is, without a doubt, a "role model" for honesty. He's very open about his use of steriods, and other banned substances, in his quest to get huge. Unlike alot of pro bodybuilders, he puts up no facade of being "natural". Gregg openly admits to the human body's limitations, and what one must do to surpass them. Whether one then chooses to follow his path from then on, is entirely their own doing. However, at least by being openly honest about all aspects of his training, you're getting the unabridged truth. Including the unavoidable pitfalls you will undoubtably encounter later on in life, as a direct result of said choices. Something most pro bodybuilders LOATHE him for doing. Because, not only does it counter their own facades, of being "genetcially superior" to everyone else, but also because it shatters the myth than one can achieve super human physiques, by using the faulty suppliments they are PAID TO PLUG in the magazines. Translation: It takes money out of THEIR pockets. Because anyone with half a brain, and the willingness to use it, won't throw down hard-earned money, on a product that clearly DOES NOT pay off large. No pun intended.

 Read the writing on the wall. Eating disorders, and physique-related mental illnesses, have skyrocketed in young, adult males, over the last 15 years. I've witnessed firsthand, guys shooting up in the gym bathroom stalls. Or, working out to the point of vomiting. Then, going immediately back upstairs, to train some more. So if women think they have the market cornered with body dismorphia, then need to think again. Because we're catching up at an extremely rapid pace.

 Whether you love him or hate him. Regardless of whether you agree with him or not, I say this: Thank God for people like Gregg Valentino. He's a beakon of truth, in an industry that floggs deception, for the sake of money. And it's a lack of honesty that's killing us. Just as much as it is drugs.

 Below are links to Gregg's site, an interview with him (which I warn is very graphic), as well as body image-related reading material.

 Stay natural, and work hard.

 Gh0sT

 http://www.greggvalentino.net/index.cfm?pageID=16

 http://www.bodybuilding.com/fun/greggvalentino.htm

 http://www.vanderbilt.edu/AnS/psychology/health_psychology/buffed.htm

 http://www.ytedk.com/

http://www.whatreallyhappened.com/RANCHO/POLITICS/FOSTER_COVERUP/foster.html

 Libs and Dems love their heros!!!

 Gh0sT

 Someone please answer me this: At one point in time, did we as a society take a collective vote, and deem it "socially acceptable" to exist as a nation of WHINERS?

 I am not able to accurately quantify, the actual volume of unnecessary pissing and moaning I hear everyday, as a result of being in the motorcycle retail buisness. Seriously. The actual number, if it does exist at all, most certainly is SO astronomically high, it is inconceivable to the human mind. And would most likely result in a ceberal aneurysm. Were one to try and accurately gauge it, by counting each complaint individually.

 Ask yourself this: Is there anything more testosterone-fueled, than the image of a man on his motorcycle? It's like the modern day version, of a cowboy on his horse. Riding the open range. Fearless in his masculinity. Ready to take on the world.

 But guess what guys? YOU'RE PISSING ON THAT IMAGE, AND PISSING ON MY SPORT IN THE PROCESS.

 Know why, guys? Because, as much as you'd like to think you are living up the above image, and doing your best to perpetuate it, you are, in fact, doing the EXACT opposite. Because, simpley put: Every time you make an unnecessary complaint, nitpick, whine, or throw a temper tantrum when you don't get your way exactly, you are NOT perpetuating that image. The image you are perpetuating, is that of the 4 year-old spoiled brat, who makes a scene in the store, when mommy won't buy her a toy. So let's be honest, guys. All the black leather in the world won't make you LOOK tough, when you ACT like you should be wearing a f__king dress.

 Don't misunderstand me, fellas: There ARE vaild complaints. A five-hundred dollar product on order, arriving at the store damaged and late? Absolutely a reason to grip. Being given inaccurate information on a costly product purchase? Again, very justifiable. Bitching about a sale price not being marked down a FIFTH time? No. That's not legitamate. That's just you being a cheap, whining a__hole. Complaining about a "state of the art", lightweight Race helmet, with a modern Snell rating, being "too heavy"? No. That just makes you a pussy. Especially when you consider even my candy ass (all of 5'9', 130 pounds), can wear that helmet for 4 hours at a stretch, and not even flinch.

 So before you lodge your next "complaint" guys, you might think first ponder its legitamacy. Because it undoubtably will affect YOUR image, and OUR perception of you.

 Leave the sport, to the REAL "bikers".

 Gh0sT