To hear him tell it, perhaps no one was more surprised to see his work published in a book than Biff America, the nom de guerre of Jeffrey Bergeron. But now, too many years after the publication of the first volume of his riotous columns from this magazine—“Biff America: Steep, Deep and Dyslexic”—he’s back with more and expressing even greater disbelief that there remains demand for his snort-worthy wit and questionable wisdom.
In “Biff America: Mind, Body, Soul,” we get to crawl back in the brain—and lower intestine—of the noted ski bum/slope-side philosopher/raconteur/marital adviser. Part Warren (Elizabeth and Miller), part Marx (Karl as well as the Brothers) and all original, Biff is a ski-town character with a capital “K.” (Spelling and grammar—nay, even standard English—are, ironically, not exactly his hallmarks.) His columns alternately wax about the nearly imperceptible hiss of fresh snow beneath your skis and then make you shudder about the gaseous composition of farts and what President Mitt Romney’s environmental policy would have looked like.
To know Biff—and the real Jeffrey behind him—is to appreciate the inanities of someone grappling with a split personality and the off-kilter musings of a manic mind that can hold two seemingly disparate thoughts with equal conviction. He begrudges the intrusion of outsiders into his sanctuaries, for example, yet heartily encourages others to pursue the same exact joys. “Do I contradict myself? Very well, then I contradict myself,” Walt Whitman once wrote.
As an example of his generosity of spirit (and for the sake of full disclosure), about 20 years ago, Jeffrey gave me—for a nominal fee that happened to be the exact street value of a particularly powerful, illicit Asian aphrodisiac—my first AT bindings and directed me to abandon ski lifts whenever possible. (The bindings may have been hot but were probably just found in a pile of demo gear, samples or outright payola he earned through his cult-following, local-access TV show in Breckenridge.)
Biff is an act, a multimedia character created from Jeffrey’s fertile imagination, but the truth is, he doesn’t stray far from Frankenstein’s own heart, and all of his friends recognize that same lightning-fast wit and non-stop banter. In his writing, as well as in person, Biff/Jeffrey intentionally displays a lack of self-awareness for effect, typically followed by self-deprecating humor that shows it was all a ruse. He blusters loudly to generate a laugh, all the while quietly making a poignant observation, usually revealing something salient about the human condition.
His legendary social liberalism and delight in poking the Establishment in the eyes is juxtaposed with his syrupy sweet expressions of love for his mate, Ellen, and his palpable sense of responsibility to his community, to his readers and to the environment. There often is nudity in his columns, which, of course—in Biff’s own inimitable way—is symbolic of one’s vulnerability and infantile purity, as well as the perfect cookie cutter for funny-looking snow angels.
Reading all of his columns collected in one place is like blasting through the light, fluffy powder that Jeffrey is fond of pursuing: it’s joyous, effortless, effervescent—and utterly memorable.
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Steve Lipsher is a longtime Colorado writer who staffed The Denver Post’s mountain bureau for 10 years, covering, among other things, the ski industry, resort towns, public-lands management and backcountry exploits and their characters. In his spare time, he fruitlessly attempts to teach English to foreigners like Biff America.
“Biff America: Mind, Body Soul – The Backcountry Years” is available now at backcountrymagazine.com/store.
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