Let's say you just spent the last three hours googling, "calcified DVT and superficial thrombophlebitis" and reading every link that came up for it and then realized that you could probably have a lengthy and coherent discussion with a highly trained medical professional, a discussion that would ensue in medicalese, and possibly lead to a prize-winning study showing the lack of connection between a deep vein thrombosis and a superficial thrombosis, and you were lauded across the land for your discovery; and then you looked at your bike and wondered what kind of a hat stand it would make.


Not a very good one, I mean, the hats would probably fall off. Unless you balanced one precariously on the saddle, which would look dumb, but if you never have friends over, who cares, right? But still, it would look dumb and why are you asking me--do I look like I have a PhD in Hat Standology?


Which is why you shouldn't use your bike as a hat stand, you should use it to be a back up dancer on a bike because there is a huge market for this, if you take a look at this video, which is cool because it utilizes my all-time favorite instrument, the hand clap, an instrument I am ridiculously skilled at using and use in all my own music, thanks for asking.


Even the most astutest Power Love reader probably doesn't know how skilled I am at the hand clap, but I am, even though now that I watch that video again I'm vaguely unsettled about the Donnie Darko rabbit head dude on the right and it's exactly this kind of thing that reminds me why I prefer my singers in bands to be long and lanky, preferably in leather pants, preferably wailing incessantly and nonsensically about something that's intermittently punctuated with a hearty, "Fuck you!" and swigs from the nearest bottle of Jack Daniels. Also, it's best if there is at least one Les Paul around. And a harmonica.


Ninethly, Appetite for Destruction is 20 years old and sheesh, whoa. When that album came out I still used the word "album" and I was driving around the suburbs in a four-door Chevy Chevette with luggage racks and thinking to myself how awesome cool it would be to be homeless and wacked out on heroin and trolling the Sunset Strip and fighting with club owners over their pay-to-play policies and laughing at Tracii Guns 'cuz my band stole part of his name, although, no bad vibes, dude, we just had the better sound and also, my hair hairsprayed higher, so obviously, we were way more marketable, and also, mental illness does wonders for famosity and it's quite possible nobody reading this is getting any of these references but that's because you're a bunch of losers who didn't spend all your extra time reading Rip magazine and watching Headbanger's Ball on Saturday nights.


So, to recap, it's quite possible I'm not the lead singer of Guns N Roses, which means that also I may not be an Olympic gold medalist road racer, and it's also quite possible I did not win Stage 14 of Le Tour this year, and, possibly, I may not have backup dancers on bikes in my creepy Donny Darko video, which means I quite possibly do not have a voice like velvet, which is unfortunate, because if I'm going to be lauded across the land for my sparkling medical discoveries, it would be beneficial to have a great voice to belt out the karaoke I would surely be doing at all those conferences I would surely be invited to. Luckily, I'm God, so everything should work out just fine.