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To order a Duffy book, click on one of the covers to the left.

It’s 5:45 am and I’m walking my three hounds on leashes and bagging their crap as I go, following all the rules. I make the Holland to New Scotland turn and her he comes: Mr. FF’in Green Guy bikin’ his sorry Birkenstock ass to work–on the sidewalk.

I got three hundred pounds of dog tethered to me covering a 20 foot wingspan and this guy thinks he’s found the most efficient way to travel where there’s no pesky cars to worry about.

It’s called a sideWALK, jerkoff.

It’s not a sideBIKE.

I’m proud of you for leaving a zero carbon footprint by rockin’ the two wheeler this morning, really I am. But if you blow past me and the hounds again like some crazed Shriner at a parade, the footprint I leave on your ass will carry considerably more weight than zero.

Take you, your helmet, the little dentist’s mirror coming off it, the sweet little clips that keep the chain oil off the khaki’s and your environmentally-friendly hemp backpack and ride in the street where you’re supposed.