I really should avoid redistributing shit like this, but it sure beats trying to write your own comedy while recovering from the Masque of the Red Death. As the NYVelocity crowd noted via Twitter, “Oh fer chrissakes there’s another Toto outrun by reality.”
Joe Lindsey has tweeted a call for questions to be posed to TCWSNBN, and some of the offerings are worth a look. If you are of the Twitterati, look for hashtag #questionsforlance. Hell, kick in a few yourselves. Everybody dance.
I’ll tell you what will take your mind off TCWSNBN real fast — the flu that’s going around.
Lordy sweet Jeebus, I recommend in the strongest possible terms that you do not contract this bad boy. It got me on Friday and ever since I have felt like I got et by a coyote and shit off a cliff. Not even green chile helps. Hell, I don’t even want a drink, so you know it’s bad. That said, some of my symptoms might belong to the DTs rather than the flu, so your mileage may vary.
Needless to say, I did not get up at dark-thirty this morning to hustle up some pirate video of Katie Compton clinching the World Cup title in Rome. No, instead I curled fetus-like under a heap of sweaty bedclothes, emitting feeble mewling sounds interspersed with mighty honks into tissues and the occasional hacking jag one might expect from a Vegas bluehair working three slot machines at once with a Chesterfield glued to her lower lip.
Later, in the shower, after a few moments of abominable racket reminiscent of a pack of werewolves with kennel cough trying to kick-start their Harleys I passed a lung biscuit the approximate size, shape and color of an apricot. I thought it bore the likeness of Our Lord, but that was probably just the flu. Or the DTs.
From Juliet Macur at The New York Times. Discuss.
Editor’s note: Today’s edition of “Friday Funnies” was written Oct. 12 for the November 2012 issue of Bicycle Retailer and Industry News.
EPO all in my veins
Lately things just don’t seem the same
Acton’ funny, but I don’t know why
‘Scuse me while I pass this guy.
— from the affidavit of Dave Zabriskie, recounting how he serenaded Johan Bruyneel on the U.S. Postal Service bus in 2002
I’VE OFTEN JOKED that in helping to cover professional bicycle racing I was aiding and abetting a felony.
Well, whaddaya know? Turns out I wasn’t joking after all.
The revelations from the U.S. Anti-Doping Agency’s investigation of Lance Armstrong will be ancient history by the time you read this. Indeed, they were mostly off the front pages in less than two days, swept aside by Smokin’ Joe Biden flooring Paul “Lyin’” Ryan in their vice-presidential punch-up, the European Union winning the Nobel Peace Prize and rumors of a sexy new iPad mini on the horizon.
Ho-hum. Just another rich white guy getting away with something. Nothing to see here, folks. Move along; move along.
In the cycling media, however, it was all Lance, all the time. Nothing new there, either. Whether he was winning a Tour de France, berating an Austin doorman or boinking an Olsen twin, Armstrong was always good for the bottom line. Chamois-sniffers and haters alike dove headlong into every story and then went to war in the comments. Making money off Lance Armstrong was easier than stealing from the collection plate at a church for the blind. Continue reading “We are all Armstrong’s domestiques”
Monday served up one helluva wild ride on the Schadenfreude Express.
It began with Texus Maximus going all minimus, from seven Tour de France victories down to two stage wins and a 36th-overall finish in 1995. And it ended with LL Cool Prez making a punk and a chump out of the RomneyBot v2.012, which came off looking like it would get laughed out of a Know-Nothing primary for a school-board seat in Stumpbroke, Mississippi.
The Cyclist Who Shall Not Be Named (TCWSNBN) was always a poor winner and a worse loser, and it must’ve really stung to be called out from the pulpit by Fat Paddy, that braying, gray-flannel bag of porter farts.
Always one to insist that the UCI’s glossy image remain untarnished, via defamation lawsuit if necessary, the blustering bog-trotter took a respite from casting out the big yellow devil to call Tyler Hamilton and Floyd Landis “scumbags.” Before the word had finished leaving his flapping piehole a thousand lawyers had offered their services to the two whistleblowers, and I will be surprised if the suits weren’t filed before the echoes died.
TCWSNBN will need his own army of shysters going forward, as everybody and his granny wants a refund with interest — Amaury Sports Organization, SCA Promotions, the Sunday Times and pretty much anyone who bought his books, bracelets or bullshit. And there’s that dormant federal inquiry, which could wake up if the U.S. attorney suddenly grows a pair.
In point of fact, there was no shortage of shoe leather being applied to the fallen idol over the course of what must have been a very long day indeed. It was only fair, since he was rarely shy about getting his own Nikes into prostrate rivals when he was on top. There’s no point in putting someone on the deck if you’re not going to give them the boot. It’s American as fraud, coercion, intimidation, bribery and perjury.
Speaking of boots, LL Cool Prez kicked the RomneyBot’s ass so hard that it will be tasting shoe leather until Election Day. I was all for skipping this final debate, but Herself insisted on watching, and I’m glad we did, if only to enjoy the ‘Bot’s stammering and sweating. For a while it looked like its hair was pissing on its head to keep its positronic brain from catching fire.
Whether the drubbing will have any effect remains to be seen. Elsewhere on TV highly paid professionals were playing with their balls and Herself and I may have constituted the entire PBS audience. Still, we enjoyed ourselves. I thought at one point that the prez might just lean back, park his dogs on the desk, lace his fingers behind his head, and let the ‘Bot keep digging its own political grave. “Keep it up, never mind me, you’re doing just fine.”
Today it’s back to business as usual. Apple is unleashing a few more must-have toys for anyone who still has a job, the Tour is preparing to announce the route of its centenary event, and I plan to get in one more long ride before the weather goes south.
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