SAI AH NA RA

STOMP ON SUPER DUDES!

(Originally submitted to the Valley Journal for publication on August 21, two-double-o-eight)



....By the way of the winds, my friend Max is skipping town. He's mostly everybody's friend, really, so he'll be surely missed...sorely missed...slappily missed.

In a short while, Max Cooper (A.K.A. Slappy Stompa) has made an amazing mark on the people here. Now he's flying off to the N.Y.C, to spread more of his Max-a-lopin' love. Flying by bike, that is, and swingin' through Cali on the way. Hi Ho. Don't worry, though, this aint no O-bituary. As Max put it in a recent blog post, "I'm very excited for some longD swashbuckling, but I be missing all of you and the greater bonedale-land alll ready, and I certainly won't be staying away any more than need be, SHeeesh. .. . ."

Aside from being our friend and an every-time-happy-fun guy, Max spread some amazing art, and bikes, all over the valley. He helped behind-the-scenes in a thousand events. He exemplifies a passion for life and creativity and raw human power. What he will be most never-forgotten around here for, though, aside from his way with the ladies, is the Stomparilla Brigade. That, is, the Carbondale Creative Cycling Collective. We've seen and heard them on their funny-big-party-race bikes, cruising with the full moon and all the other moons. Indeed, most of us have been a part of the Stompa Movement here and there. The motto has always been: We will not not stomp.

So what will happen to the Stomparillaz now that Max is headed out? In a word, notmuch. The Stompas can ONLY grow. Perhaps a Brigade will be formed in Brooklyn, as there is one here, and in Durango, and Hong Kong, and Helsinki. I think Max would be the first to tell you: The Stompas do not begin and end with Max. They have always been here, and they always will be. Max is simply a messenger...a goo-roo...a chosen one... picked by the Xtra-Stompa to rally us forth.

Yes, the Stompas grow each time we drive a bike. Each time we go out, in the heat or the rain or the snow, and sweat. Every time we draw on a wall, or dance in a parking lot, we are Stompin'. When we willingly enter the "pain cave", savoring it's darkness, to come out again, stronger than before. We shun the BS, in favor of what is real and funny and alive-- every time we do what we love, the Stomparillaz gain strength. So we will continue to not not stomp. And rest assured, Max will be out there, somewhere, stomping with us when we don't not.

AYE AYE AAIIEEEE!