32 Hours 7 Minutes

The Danger Snake, Loch Phillipps, has really stepped it up this time, folks.  Picture this:  Phillipps, tricked out in his usual caution orange, powering home on his Trek 678, attempts an indy-rodeo-fake-mcJaberwoke over a pot hole, miss-judges the landing and bails over his handlebars.  Diagnosis: Broken humerus.  My take: only sort of humorous.

No more than 1.5 months later, Phillipps is back on the saddle, mashing hard.  Plowing through midtown, he launches an epic air over a miniature dachshund, attempts to invert, and lands on his shoulder.  Diagnosis: shattered clavicle.
So the question is, folks, will his extreme, party-boy antics stop him from finishing the film on time?  Well, I ask you this: did a team of super-pissed ex-marines and three rockets full of VX nerve gas set to annihilate San Francisco stop Nicholas Cage from carrying out his mission when his tactical assault force had been murdered, he was stuck in a sewer below an abandoned prison full of innocent hostages, and his only hope was a washed up ex-convict whose only asset was a fresh haircut?
Don’t worry team.  No cast, he’s almost out of the sling, and he’s already got both hands back on the keyboard.