Content © 2012-2017 by American IronHorse Owners Organization.  Use of AIH Logo Licensed by American Ironhorse, LLC
The Art of Dipping One of the more disgusting vices that I picked up somewhere along the line is smokeless tobacco or “dip” if you will.  To the uninitiated it tastes pretty nasty.  Having to eject a brown, slimy stream of spit into a cup or onto the ground isn’t especially attractive either.  Dip is kind of expensive.  The label on the can says “WARNING: Smokeless tobacco is addictive” and they aren’t kidding.  Another warning says it causes cancer so one fine day I may have to have my lower face removed and then my head blasted with radiation (I don’t believe I can get much uglier so I don’t worry about that part too much).  So why do it?  Simple: I love it! My first experience with the stuff occurred during a little league game in Nekoma, North Dakota when we were playing the Hampton Honkers.  I was 11 at the time and a few of us had been asking the coach if we could try his Red Man chewing tobacco (all the better to look like real big leaguers, don’t you know).  During this game he finally relented and let us try it while we were sitting on the bench.  I only lasted about 30 seconds before I turned green and had to spit it out but at least I didn’t puke.  Two other boys laughed at me (somewhat uneasily I might add) for being such a pussy.  It may have been all of two minutes or so and then they weren’t laughing anymore:  they were behind the dugout throwing up.  I was happy to see it because they were a couple of assholes in the class ahead of me who liked to pick on younger and smaller kids. That awful experience cured me until I was twenty-something but I did have a brush with temptation in high school.  I was on the cross-country team for the Spring Valley Vikings in Columbia, South Carolina.  I have never been a natural runner.  Where others find their rhythm and are able to turn on the cruise control, I would be sucking wind the whole way.  I could go the distance well enough but was abysmally slow.  Two of our runners were ranked #1 and #2 in the state AAAA class and both would use dip during our 6-12 mile practice runs.  Could there be a connection?  I thought about trying the dip again, figuring that it might help my speed but was worried with all my huffing and blowing that I would actually inhale it and I couldn’t imagine what THAT would be like. The craziest, most dedicated dipper I ever saw was during basic training.  One of the drill instructors was an ornery bastard and always had a mouthful which was especially bad when you were getting your ass chewed.  I behaved myself but some of my brethren occasionally had to wipe sticky brown bits from their faces after being unlucky enough to arouse the ire of the drill instructor – ew!  What really impressed me, though, was that he didn’t spit it out during chow.  He would just shove it to the side of his mouth and eat around it.  That’s a manly man!  He might be the one man alive who could kick Chuck Norris’ ass. Dipping can be both hazardous and hilarious.  One fine morning I woke up after having a tad too much wine the previous evening while watching my much beloved MMA fights.  I was raised to never waste anything and so when I saw the unfinished glass from the night before I tossed it back.  Can you guess?  That’s right – not wine.  I swallowed before my taste buds registered the offense and then froze in place; measuring the moment to see what my stomach would do while rapidly calculating the shortest vector to the nearest suitable hurling receptacle.  It went pretty much as one might expect but afterwards my hangover was totally gone! Another time I was driving with a friend who was dipping and wanted to spit out the window.  I told him that under no circumstances would he dare to get it on my car so he leaned waaaay out, faced downwind and let fly.  He was expecting a neat shot into the slipstream.  Instead, it went out and hovered around a bit like an evil, flying amoeba and then flew right back into his face and hair.  The shocked look of dismay on his face was beyond hilarious!  Of course, I couldn’t let that one slide and managed to gasp out between howls of laughter that if tobacco spit were white…. Ah, best not to go there. Those of us who are hooked on dip and also like the ganja face a serious dilemma:  it’s really hard to smoke weed and then dip.  Your spit dries up completely with good ole’ cotton mouth, so now what do you do?   One option is to start dipping first.  Once you have a good base of saliva built up, hit the weed and smoke really fast.  If you get high enough, fast enough your mouth may not notice and continue to produce spit.  If that doesn’t work, then cheat it with a cup of water!  Again, caution is advised lest in your double-buzzed condition you get the spit cup and the oral lubrication cup mixed up. Motorcycling while dipping rests strictly in the realm of the experienced dipping professional.  If you are man enough to swallow, then no problem.  If, like me, ejecting the tobacco ambrosia is a necessity then great care must be taken to ensure that said liquid is deposited safely into a suitable container and does not wind up as a sticky, brown facial glaze.  If you are skilled enough to pee in a typhoon without spritzing yourself then you may possess the skill necessary to dip on a bike (I know for a fact, as a veteran of several typhoons, that I am not that person). Kissing with dip.  No woman alive wants to be kissed by a man with dip in his mouth.  This is why we must do it.  Accomplishing this feat requires many of the skills common among high-level ninjas.  Hiding in the shower and waiting until your target is “indisposed” and therefore unable to run is one option.  I personally prefer dropping from the ceiling to execute a hit and run attack.  Whatever tactic you use make sure to plan your escape route and that you don’t need anything in the house for at least an hour or two - or maybe the whole day.  Note also that such action will preclude sex for a period of time in accordance with certain factors such as where the target was kissed and whether or not it was a juicy one.  Therefore, do not attempt this action except under post-coital conditions as you are guaranteed a period of celibacy until the statute of limitations runs out.
February 1, 2017
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ORGANIZATION ORGANIZATION OWNERS OWNERS For All American Ironhorse Motorcycle Owners
Fat Max
© 2012-2017   American IronHorse Owners Organization Use of AIH Logo Licensed by American Ironhorse, LLC 
The Art of Dipping One of the more disgusting vices that I picked up somewhere along the line is smokeless tobacco or “dip” if you will.  To the uninitiated it tastes pretty nasty.  Having to eject a brown, slimy stream of spit into a cup or onto the ground isn’t especially attractive either.  Dip is kind of expensive.  The label on the can says “WARNING: Smokeless tobacco is addictive” and they aren’t kidding.  Another warning says it causes cancer so one fine day I may have to have my lower face removed and then my head blasted with radiation (I don’t believe I can get much uglier so I don’t worry about that part too much).  So why do it?  Simple: I love it! My first experience with the stuff occurred during a little league game in Nekoma, North Dakota when we were playing the Hampton Honkers.  I was 11 at the time and a few of us had been asking the coach if we could try his Red Man chewing tobacco (all the better to look like real big leaguers, don’t you know).  During this game he finally relented and let us try it while we were sitting on the bench.  I only lasted about 30 seconds before I turned green and had to spit it out but at least I didn’t puke.  Two other boys laughed at me (somewhat uneasily I might add) for being such a pussy.  It may have been all of two minutes or so and then they weren’t laughing anymore:  they were behind the dugout throwing up.  I was happy to see it because they were a couple of assholes in the class ahead of me who liked to pick on younger and smaller kids. That awful experience cured me until I was twenty-something but I did have a brush with temptation in high school.  I was on the cross-country team for the Spring Valley Vikings in Columbia, South Carolina.  I have never been a natural runner.  Where others find their rhythm and are able to turn on the cruise control, I would be sucking wind the whole way.  I could go the distance well enough but was abysmally slow.  Two of our runners were ranked #1 and #2 in the state AAAA class and both would use dip during our 6-12 mile practice runs.  Could there be a connection?  I thought about trying the dip again, figuring that it might help my speed but was worried with all my huffing and blowing that I would actually inhale it and I couldn’t imagine what THAT would be like. The craziest, most dedicated dipper I ever saw was during basic training.  One of the drill instructors was an ornery bastard and always had a mouthful which was especially bad when you were getting your ass chewed.  I behaved myself but some of my brethren occasionally had to wipe sticky brown bits from their faces after being unlucky enough to arouse the ire of the drill instructor – ew!  What really impressed me, though, was that he didn’t spit it out during chow.  He would just shove it to the side of his mouth and eat around it.  That’s a manly man!  He might be the one man alive who could kick Chuck Norris’ ass. Dipping can be both hazardous and hilarious.  One fine morning I woke up after having a tad too much wine the previous evening while watching my much beloved MMA fights.  I was raised to never waste anything and so when I saw the unfinished glass from the night before I tossed it back.  Can you guess?  That’s right – not wine.  I swallowed before my taste buds registered the offense and then froze in place; measuring the moment to see what my stomach would do while rapidly calculating the shortest vector to the nearest suitable hurling receptacle.  It went pretty much as one might expect but afterwards my hangover was totally gone! Another time I was driving with a friend who was dipping and wanted to spit out the window.  I told him that under no circumstances would he dare to get it on my car so he leaned waaaay out, faced downwind and let fly.  He was expecting a neat shot into the slipstream.  Instead, it went out and hovered around a bit like an evil, flying amoeba and then flew right back into his face and hair.  The shocked look of dismay on his face was beyond hilarious!  Of course, I couldn’t let that one slide and managed to gasp out between howls of laughter that if tobacco spit were white…. Ah, best not to go there. Those of us who are hooked on dip and also like the ganja face a serious dilemma:  it’s really hard to smoke weed and then dip.  Your spit dries up completely with good ole’ cotton mouth, so now what do you do?   One option is to start dipping first.  Once you have a good base of saliva built up, hit the weed and smoke really fast.  If you get high enough, fast enough your mouth may not notice and continue to produce spit.  If that doesn’t work, then cheat it with a cup of water!  Again, caution is advised lest in your double-buzzed condition you get the spit cup and the oral lubrication cup mixed up. Motorcycling while dipping rests strictly in the realm of the experienced dipping professional.  If you are man enough to swallow, then no problem.  If, like me, ejecting the tobacco ambrosia is a necessity then great care must be taken to ensure that said liquid is deposited safely into a suitable container and does not wind up as a sticky, brown facial glaze.  If you are skilled enough to pee in a typhoon without spritzing yourself then you may possess the skill necessary to dip on a bike (I know for a fact, as a veteran of several typhoons, that I am not that person). Kissing with dip.  No woman alive wants to be kissed by a man with dip in his mouth.  This is why we must do it.  Accomplishing this feat requires many of the skills common among high-level ninjas.  Hiding in the shower and waiting until your target is “indisposed” and therefore unable to run is one option.  I personally prefer dropping from the ceiling to execute a hit and run attack.  Whatever tactic you use make sure to plan your escape route and that you don’t need anything in the house for at least an hour or two - or maybe the whole day.  Note also that such action will preclude sex for a period of time in accordance with certain factors such as where the target was kissed and whether or not it was a juicy one.  Therefore, do not attempt this action except under post- coital conditions as you are guaranteed a period of celibacy until the statute of limitations runs out.
February 1, 2017
Want to contact Fat Max? email Fat Max ...
ORGANIZATION ORGANIZATION OWNERS OWNERS
Fat Max