In a world full of suffering and big, fat, smelly wheelsuckers, it's hard to get in the Christmas mood, especially when you're poor, have a low FTP, and Cipollini called you a pussy in Velonews.
But every now and then a story comes along that uplifts the spirit, a Tiny Tim in words, a cheery high-de-high-de-high-de-ho, god bless us everyone kind of tickler, a veritable chicken soup for the vegetarian soul. I'm talking about the story of Glen Glans (a word whose definition I will allow you to peruse at your leisure).
Glans (pictured, defiantly, left) was riding his bike when a van "swerved at him." Glans, understandably aroused, let fly with what must have been a vicious loogy. The van's occupants claim Glans spewed on them, while Glans claims to have simply spewed on the van. It is likely, based on following events, that the amount of viscous offal Glans managed to procure was extraordinary; I imagine the vehicle submerged under a wall of foam, buried gleaming and viscous, like it was in the middle of a car wash, and Glans thrown off his (no doubt) fixie, his mouth dripping like a vast sewage nozzle.
I say this because the spit was so offensive and overpowering to the van's occupants (not, presumbly Glans, who has to live with that kind of thing being in his mouth and throat and esophogus every day), that the van's occupants felt compelled to jump out, attacking Glans. Glans, who, according to his mother, had been previously "pulled by his shirt off of his bike by a motorist, thrown to the ground & left unconcious and hopsitalized"...proceeded to "give into his frustration and act on it! Seriously, can you blame him?"
The exact injuries the infuriated Glans inflicted on the spittle soaked van's occupants are unstated in the Portland press, but the poor folks were impelled to flee the scene and head directly to the hospital in the van, to seek treatment at local medical facilities for both physical injuries, humiliation, and probable infection. Glans, not knowing what else to do, continued on his way to "work."
Police later arrested Glans and charged him with being a dick on a bike.
Then it gets interesting. Police were initially led to believe that Glans was wearing a Santa hat, which, if verified, would have upped Glans' crime from simple assault with a deadly glob of chum to impersonification of a jolly enforcement official...felony two.
Glans protested, stating, and I'm not making this up, "I'm not the grinch that stole Christmas." Keep in mind that the alleged incident (i.e., Santa hat sartorial display) occurred in October of this year.
Fortunately, Glans was able to clear this charge from the docket by producing a red and white hat of non-Santa-icular nature, definitely not the kind worn by anyone sliding down chimneys and pounding milk and cookies.
Following the incident, Glans' mother wrote into a local chat board defending her son, stating:
"The "bicyclist" involved is my son who was simply on his way to work when he was cut off the road by yet another motorist who either wasn't paying attention or doesn't believe that bicyclists deserve a share of the road."
What I especially love is that Glans' mom calls him a "bicyclist," with quotes, as in, "please, my boy sits on a bike, yeah, and he pedals, but that little b**** doesn't deserve to be given the epithet, bicyclist, straight up. Now, Bartholi, there was a bicyclist, sans quotes. Frog could ride."