I tried to make light of the Chicken affair, but this ain't fun anymore (not that it ever has been). It looks like the Kazakh kid pulled a Hamilton, and now my excitement over tomorrow's battle in the Pyrenees is gone.
Oh, Alexander, please confess. Please, please, please. Please don't blame it on a sloppy lab. Although I'm sure that conspiracy theorists are already thinking that this is a response to Moreau's bashing by the Astana boys, and I certainly think that the lab's sloppy work should lead to having its credentials revoked, a confession would better serve the sport, which I'm sure that you love dearly. There's a nasty culture that still exists, and it needs to be cracked.
This is a fight that needs to be won. Let other cyclists know that cheaters will get caught. This will help bring in fresh kids who do not want to subject their bodies to suspect doping techniques, and instead simply subject their bodies to the beautiful abuse of pushing their bodies to the limit. Their bodies, not someone else's, or some other animal's. It can be done.
Confess, Alexander.
Fans, hold tight. This won't go down easy.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Friday, July 20, 2007
Would You Like Some Fresh, Cracked Pepper With Your Young, Sir?
The Danish Cycling Union (DCU) announced that it is suspending the Chicken due to accusations that while in Mexico, he had injected gerbils with EPO and then stuffed them up his gizzard hole. This process is known to mask synthetic EPO. This accusation first came to light after Richard Gere met the Chicken in the emergency room of a Mexican hospital.
Gere contacted the Danish federation about this several years ago, but pleaded to them not to let it out. Gere only wanted the cruel practice of injecting gerbils with EPO stopped, and hoped that the federation would have a chat with the Chicken. "I also thought his wife was kinda hot, so I did not want to be a dick and make a public statement or anything," added the aging star of American Gigolo and Pretty Woman.
But after seeing the Chicken tell the world that he could be trusted, Gere noticed a little bounce in his step that led Gere to believe that the Chicken was still subjecting gerbils to abuse. Gere called the press and the Danish federation to put a stop to it, claiming that he was afraid that other cyclists might be "enticed to use the procedure in order to get themselves one of those pretty yellow shirts."
The DCU was only too happy to drop the hatchet on the Chicken while he was in yellow, especially since they felt that the French, and their silly little Tour, were hogging the cycling limelight. "This will knock them down a notch," stated a source within the federation, who asked to remain anonymous. "I mean come one," he continued, "the Tour of Denmark, with its hors catégorie dykes, is just as prestigious."
The press, running out of stories about the hot wives of pro cyclists, were also eager to cover the story. "We're doing it for the animals," said one journalist. Some TV stations, though, have taken the higher ground. In response to all the doping scandals in the sport, German TV has stopped coverage of the Tour. Instead, they filled the normal 6 hours a day of live cycling coverage with Dancing With The Stars. "You know the stars are not on drugs," said German TV's president.
The Chicken was quick to point his pecker in response to the allegations. "It was Menchov who could not get his ass over the Galibier, not me. He probably forgot to take the poor little bugger out before starting the stage," bawked the Chicken. "Bakawwwk!" he added.
Many of the other riders in the Tour are now dropping their shorts to show that they are not hiding any gerbils. Of course, those who are keeping their chamois close to their sphincters are suspect. "My mom taught me to be modest," stated a cyclist from team Discovery Channel who wished to keep his private parts private. He added "plus, I love gerbils, and have many at home." That rider's room was raided later that night, and he has since been suspended by his team for being in possession paraphernalia used for doping practices.
Meanwhile, cycling fans are left scratching their heads. Most don't mind if Al Trautwig and Bob Roll lose their jobs as cycling commentators due to the implosion of the sport, but many are addicted to the spandex spectacle, spending hours and hours on blogs obsessing over the smooth-legged boys of the pro peleton. For many, it is the spectacle that gives them the inspiration to lube up their chamois (clearly not for gerbil purposes) and hit the road. "What happened to the good old days," lamented one fan, "when riders only injected speed into their asses?"
Gere contacted the Danish federation about this several years ago, but pleaded to them not to let it out. Gere only wanted the cruel practice of injecting gerbils with EPO stopped, and hoped that the federation would have a chat with the Chicken. "I also thought his wife was kinda hot, so I did not want to be a dick and make a public statement or anything," added the aging star of American Gigolo and Pretty Woman.
But after seeing the Chicken tell the world that he could be trusted, Gere noticed a little bounce in his step that led Gere to believe that the Chicken was still subjecting gerbils to abuse. Gere called the press and the Danish federation to put a stop to it, claiming that he was afraid that other cyclists might be "enticed to use the procedure in order to get themselves one of those pretty yellow shirts."
The DCU was only too happy to drop the hatchet on the Chicken while he was in yellow, especially since they felt that the French, and their silly little Tour, were hogging the cycling limelight. "This will knock them down a notch," stated a source within the federation, who asked to remain anonymous. "I mean come one," he continued, "the Tour of Denmark, with its hors catégorie dykes, is just as prestigious."
The press, running out of stories about the hot wives of pro cyclists, were also eager to cover the story. "We're doing it for the animals," said one journalist. Some TV stations, though, have taken the higher ground. In response to all the doping scandals in the sport, German TV has stopped coverage of the Tour. Instead, they filled the normal 6 hours a day of live cycling coverage with Dancing With The Stars. "You know the stars are not on drugs," said German TV's president.
The Chicken was quick to point his pecker in response to the allegations. "It was Menchov who could not get his ass over the Galibier, not me. He probably forgot to take the poor little bugger out before starting the stage," bawked the Chicken. "Bakawwwk!" he added.
Many of the other riders in the Tour are now dropping their shorts to show that they are not hiding any gerbils. Of course, those who are keeping their chamois close to their sphincters are suspect. "My mom taught me to be modest," stated a cyclist from team Discovery Channel who wished to keep his private parts private. He added "plus, I love gerbils, and have many at home." That rider's room was raided later that night, and he has since been suspended by his team for being in possession paraphernalia used for doping practices.
Meanwhile, cycling fans are left scratching their heads. Most don't mind if Al Trautwig and Bob Roll lose their jobs as cycling commentators due to the implosion of the sport, but many are addicted to the spandex spectacle, spending hours and hours on blogs obsessing over the smooth-legged boys of the pro peleton. For many, it is the spectacle that gives them the inspiration to lube up their chamois (clearly not for gerbil purposes) and hit the road. "What happened to the good old days," lamented one fan, "when riders only injected speed into their asses?"
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Respect
So, the Chicken does not mince his words. Said the Chicken of his team mate, and presumed team leader wearing the famed #51 (winingest # in tour history), "It was disappointing that Menchov couldn't get his ass over the Galibier."
At least Menchov has an ass, Chicken Boy.
At least Menchov has an ass, Chicken Boy.
Monday, July 16, 2007
They Forgot Bad Teeth
Last on the medical reports list from yesterday's stage of the tour was the diagnosis of Pastey Britishitis.
Millar (Saunier Duval), allergy to sun
Thursday, July 12, 2007
For Want of a Tool
My "work" consists of producing intangibles, or possibly tangibles 2 or 3 steps removed. Thus, I really do like producing things that I can taste, touch, see; basically just be able to stand back and say looky at what I did.
So today, it was a mix of intangibles and tangibles.
Intangible: I got what we call an R&R. Not a rest and relaxation, but revise and resubmit, which is supposed to be a good thing. In fact, one of the two reviewers said publish as is, but the other reviewer wanted to be all snotty and academic, suggesting so and so's theoretical framework. So, I had to find so and so, and figure out a way to incorporate it into my manuscript. That's what I produce, manuscripts and lectures. Oh, the intangibles. For the curious, it's about the interaction of race between citizens and police officers, and how that interaction affects perceptions of legitimacy.
Almost tangible: I worked with a student who is working for the Department of Drug and Alcohol Services (in a sore need of a name change so it does not sound like a place to go to get drugs and alcohol). This student is putting together a survey to assess the situation in which DUI offenders got busted. There is a possible value here, since it could lead to information to help program administrators improve DUI offender programs. The frustrating thing is that I'm the one the students come to for this kind of stuff, even though I am only a lecturer. That is, someone who is only expected to teach. I like teaching, and I certainly like working with students doing research, but in a rational word... ah, I ain't going there.
Moving on
Tangible: Pasta sauce. I spent thirteen years working in a kitchen (before I got all educated and stuff), but I still love wielding a knife and making a big pot of sauce. I might have gone a bit heavy with the serrano peppers, but the house smells yummy, and I just always feel good after all the ingredients have gone in the pot. Now, if I just had the kitchen help I used to have in the old days to clean up the mess I made.
Yet another tangible: I replaced fork on the dirt machine. Okay, I dig the technology they got going on the bikes these days. Up to a couple of years ago, I had a complete stiffy, front and rear, mountain bike. Yet, that stiffy made my old joints stiffy, so I got me a complete cushy, with brains front and rear. Damn cool stuff when it works. But, my brain died up front, and now the fork does not lock out all by itself. This is where I don't dig all the technology on the bikes these days. It's finicky and wallet busting. So, off with the high tech, and on with a loaner. It does have this do-hicky manual lever you hook onto the bars to lock out the fork, but come on, how lo-tech. Probably is a bit more reliable, though.
It should have been a fairly straight forward swap, but apparently not all headset races are created equal. I put on the loaner fork, and I could not get the headset adjusted properly. I pulled it out and looked at the race on the old fork and the race on the loaner, and low and behold, they were different. Now, on my headset someone used their brain to design the race, cuz all you had to do to remove it was to gently pry at the split in the race and slide it off. On the loaner, it had to be knocked off. Old school headset thinking. Come on people, the bearings don't run on the bottom headset race anymore. Screwdrivers, Swiss Army knife, butter knife, and then a socket extender were all used to get the damn thing off. Oh yeah, a hammer. It's all together now, so it's time to test the work on a treacherous, rocky descent.
The big question is: Do I attempt the rebuild on my fork? I found a manual that shows how to take it apart, and I can buy new seals online. I'd feel manly if I fixed it all myself. I'd feel like a tool if I screw it up. Hmm?
So today, it was a mix of intangibles and tangibles.
Intangible: I got what we call an R&R. Not a rest and relaxation, but revise and resubmit, which is supposed to be a good thing. In fact, one of the two reviewers said publish as is, but the other reviewer wanted to be all snotty and academic, suggesting so and so's theoretical framework. So, I had to find so and so, and figure out a way to incorporate it into my manuscript. That's what I produce, manuscripts and lectures. Oh, the intangibles. For the curious, it's about the interaction of race between citizens and police officers, and how that interaction affects perceptions of legitimacy.
Almost tangible: I worked with a student who is working for the Department of Drug and Alcohol Services (in a sore need of a name change so it does not sound like a place to go to get drugs and alcohol). This student is putting together a survey to assess the situation in which DUI offenders got busted. There is a possible value here, since it could lead to information to help program administrators improve DUI offender programs. The frustrating thing is that I'm the one the students come to for this kind of stuff, even though I am only a lecturer. That is, someone who is only expected to teach. I like teaching, and I certainly like working with students doing research, but in a rational word... ah, I ain't going there.
Moving on
Tangible: Pasta sauce. I spent thirteen years working in a kitchen (before I got all educated and stuff), but I still love wielding a knife and making a big pot of sauce. I might have gone a bit heavy with the serrano peppers, but the house smells yummy, and I just always feel good after all the ingredients have gone in the pot. Now, if I just had the kitchen help I used to have in the old days to clean up the mess I made.
Yet another tangible: I replaced fork on the dirt machine. Okay, I dig the technology they got going on the bikes these days. Up to a couple of years ago, I had a complete stiffy, front and rear, mountain bike. Yet, that stiffy made my old joints stiffy, so I got me a complete cushy, with brains front and rear. Damn cool stuff when it works. But, my brain died up front, and now the fork does not lock out all by itself. This is where I don't dig all the technology on the bikes these days. It's finicky and wallet busting. So, off with the high tech, and on with a loaner. It does have this do-hicky manual lever you hook onto the bars to lock out the fork, but come on, how lo-tech. Probably is a bit more reliable, though.
It should have been a fairly straight forward swap, but apparently not all headset races are created equal. I put on the loaner fork, and I could not get the headset adjusted properly. I pulled it out and looked at the race on the old fork and the race on the loaner, and low and behold, they were different. Now, on my headset someone used their brain to design the race, cuz all you had to do to remove it was to gently pry at the split in the race and slide it off. On the loaner, it had to be knocked off. Old school headset thinking. Come on people, the bearings don't run on the bottom headset race anymore. Screwdrivers, Swiss Army knife, butter knife, and then a socket extender were all used to get the damn thing off. Oh yeah, a hammer. It's all together now, so it's time to test the work on a treacherous, rocky descent.
The big question is: Do I attempt the rebuild on my fork? I found a manual that shows how to take it apart, and I can buy new seals online. I'd feel manly if I fixed it all myself. I'd feel like a tool if I screw it up. Hmm?
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