On the Wings of Love: Deconstructing the Pigeon

Okay, here's the pitch: we open on the interior of a typical English pub. Inside, the patrons are drinking pints, playing darts, tending to flocks of sheep, or whatever it is drunken English people do in pubs. (We'll hire some kind of England consultant.) Suddenly, this pleasant scene is shattered when three men kick down the door. Boom! [Cue aggro soundtrack.] They're armed with mountain bike forks as well as a stick of some kind, and the leader bellows,"Oy! Vey! Throw some shrimp on the barbie doll mates and put the [insert local currency] in the sack!" (Again, we're going to need that England consultant.) Oh yeah, this gripping story is based on real-life events, and we've got Guy Ritchie attached to direct:

Of course, the above story (forwarded to me by a reader) raises more questions than it answers, chief among them being:

--Rigid mountain bike forks, or suspension?
--If rigid, were they steel or crabon?
--If suspension, how much travel, and were they standard or thru-axle models for enhanced lateral rigidity?
--So what's up with the one guy who had a small branch instead of a fork? Did he have a fork on order from his LBS but it wasn't ready in time, so he found a branch that kind of looked like a fork? And if so, did he put RockShox stickers on it?
--Most importantly, did any of the assailants look like this guy? Cause they may have just been testing a new Niner crabon fork:

Either way, this unfortunate incident should serve to sully the image of the mountain biker even more than it was already sullied, which was already a lot.

Oh, also in the Guy Ritchie movie, there will be a sexy femme fatale who rides a mixte and wears a skirt garter/clip, forwarded to me by another reader:

I'd expect this to appeal to disciples of the "Slow Bike Movement," though oddly it's being pitched to those who perform "track stands and fixie skids:"

Repeat after me. “Spandex is not a fashion statement.”

Repeat after me. “I can look sexy on my bike.”

Repeat after me. “Spandex is NOT a fashion statement.”

For those who agree, you don’t have to give up style when you ride your bike. Keep the earth happy, earn your hipster street cred doing track stands and fixie skids, and do it all looking good in a skirt.

I guess the whole snug girl pants craze of the mid-aughts must have now given way to the micro-mini. If this is indeed the case, I wonder what the women are wearing.

Speaking of the "Slow Bike Movement," manufacturers of heavy, clunky bicycles are now realizing that there's a new demographic for their wares--provided of course they can update their images and create suitably pretentious marketing campaigns for them. Indeed, what we're witnessing right now is a cultural phenomenon I refer to as the "Upscalification of Everything," and whether it's an extension cord or a Flying Pigeon bicycle, there's simply no product that's too mundane, utilitarian, or ubiquitous to rarefy:

The Flying Pigeon Bicycle from yulu canada on Vimeo.

The above video was forwarded to me by yet another reader, and I must say it tickles the undercarriage of art in the way that few promotional videos do. Our protagonist is a bespectacled and fashionably disheveled fellow with one of those haircuts that doesn't look like a haircut and who almost certainly owns a lute, mandolin, or other "alternative" fretted instrument:

And our love interest is a pixiesh sort who doubtless used to cut herself intentionally as a teenager and who even today has no fewer than three (3) Gustav Klimt posters hanging in her apartment:

Both of these characters are accompanied by the sort of spectral, tinkling piano soundtrack you might hear over the credits of a really lavish and boring period film, and by the end of this video it will have driven you crazy.

Of course, Flying Pigeon is a Chinese bicycle company, so to evoke the brand's authenticity the filmmaker shows us some (I assume) Chinese people having an (I assume) authentic Chinese fan party:

The protagonist looks on with...what? Interest? Bemusement? Indifference? Is he even looking at them at all? His disconcerting expression belies nothing:

But then, the corner of his mouth turns up ever so slightly--almost imperceptibly--in what I can only assume is silent appreciation:

But this makes sense, for when you've got a Chinese bicycle, an MFA, and no job you spend your days communing with your bicycle by riding around town and appreciating Chinese things. Indeed, after watching the fan party he continues to appreciate Chinese things by watching a guy cut meat that will eventually become Chinese food:

Soon, though, he meets the pixieish woman. His libido awakens, and he is transformed from Unflappable Hilpster to Smitten Hilpster:

She too is stirred, and is transformed from a sullen woman who has her three friends over every year on the date of Ian Curtis's death into a Coquettish Hilpstress:

At which point the Metaphorical Pigeons of Love take wing and soar:

And the Smitten Hilpster takes a nap, because this is the most work he's done in months:

Notice, however, that his right hand is dangerously close to his waist, and while in a dreamlike state he begins fondling a filthy pigeon feather:

This, I should not have to tell you, is a subtle metaphor for "foffing off."

Once he's done "fondling his feather," he puts pen to paper and poses an analog "Missed Connection" in his analog iPad:

It's abundantly clear by now that our Smitten Hilpster has the soul of a poet, so here is what he writes:

Sure, the filmmaker doesn't actually show this, but because he is a master of subtlety he really doesn't have to.

Meanwhile, our Coquettish Hilpstress visits a garden, and you don't have to have gone to film school or majored in symbolism to know immediately that this portal is a giant vagina:

In entering the giant vagina, our Coquettish Hilpstress is effectively wandering into the lush garden of femininity and exploring her own sexuality, sensuality, and desire:

In other words, she too is "foffing off."

Next we see a gratuitous out-of-saddle shot that simultaneously evokes spirited humping while also letting you know that the Flying Pigeon is laterally stiff and vertically compliant enough for occasional Cat 6 racing:

Finally, the dénouement arrives, and the filmmaker executes the master stroke that sets him apart as a true cinematic genius. First, we see the Flying Pigeon downtube, positioned somewhat phallically:

Then the Coquettish Hilpstress appears, and stands in such a manner that the phallic Flying Pigeon downtube points right to to her vagina garden:

In other words, they're finally "doing it," and the message is clear: Flying Pigeon will get you lain.

Sure, it's all a bit precious, but it's a lot more artful than this, which is what I would have come up with:

That's just depressing, even if the pigeon does eventually wind up in a diaper.

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