You Can't Spell "XXX" Without "XX"; Old World Cyclocross

Well, let's get to the heart of the matter from the get go and quit beating around the proverbial bush. Sram XX just arrived off of a giant truck 'pert near 30 seconds ago and as these nimble fingers type these words, our crack receiving staff is busily stowing them away in our cavernous warehouse. All hands on deck shop owners as this fresh batch of goodies will go quick. Heed the blaring sirens of the Srambulance and acquaint thyselves with the future... the future of componentry.

In addition to all this Sramsense, the cyclocross season arrives in full force this weekend with races cranking up in Tennessee and Georgia. So this means if you haven't ponied up the dough for your Grifos or Flexus Cubus(s) and FSA canti's then time is a-tickin'. Handmade tires take a long time to make. Each one is carved from a huge slab of rubber by Eastern European craftsmen with courageous handlebar mustaches and eyeglasses with 1X10,000 magnification capabilities. They drink milk with vodka, eat cod herring for breakfast and laugh at bawdy songs about stout-hearted women who wear kerchiefs and carry firewood upon their backs as their youngest child practices his cross dismount in 6 inches of snow and mud. 'Tis a hard but rewarding life! Reward their hard work by donning a pair on your cross wheelset and immerse yourself in the Euro-goodness.
European Craftsmanship for Lazy American Pretty Boy:Before The Blog scream-types "GOOD DAY SIR!", a tiny nugget of anti-bicycle insanity sent to me by Lil' E up at The Creek. Seriously, there is nothing to say about this screed because it is so laughably insane but a bit unsettling as you know there are maniacs like this populating our roads. Click the pic to read the rant...