Evil Cycling

That title doesn’t make too much sense, we know.

The days of the mighty lie are upon us, so go spend money you don’t have on people you don’t like. Or, if you really do like someone, get them a pair of Evil socks, because people love them, and will love you if you get them for them. Just click on the “Buy Evil Shit” link to the right and order away. Secure Google Checkout is in effect, yo.

Because, our Santa is most likely just like your Santa. If your Santa is Stevil, that is, he talks all fancy but the end of the night (or, about 7pm by our standards) looks just like this:

And you’ll be lucky if the strategically placed cap is included. You just might get him au natural, dong and all.

Maybe the fine Brother Nick has a better idea, and will simply set about the simple task of Fucking Shit Up. He’s even got a glass that will clearly tell you his intent. What says Christ Mess more than “Fuck Shit Up”?

And for free, Brother Nick adds that “hard as nails” look to his face for pure authenticity.

And if worse comes to worse, you can put on whatever Evil you own, and go frolic in the rain! It seems to work for these chicks. And that reminds us, if you have a picture of you in your Evil, send us a picture of it, and we’ll publicly thank you and then insult and/or humiliate you. Why? We don’t like you, haven’t you figured that out yet? Send your pics and fun stuff to chorthole at evilcycling.com. And for our old friend Phil, if you do want to send pics of your naughty bits, I guess we’ll take them, for his sake.

Nice moves.

It’s been on three backpacks, and among other occurrences, has gotten me cross looks from TSA agents in nearly every major city in the United States, witnessed what almost was a knock down, drag out fight between myself and the douche who puts on the suffering Cross Vegas debacle, and has traveled by bike somewhere in the neighborhood of 30,000 to a million miles, all the while keeping an eye on what transpires in my wake.
Eyes in the back of my head in the form of a tattered piece of EVIL propaganda.

Great great grandpa Stephano Kineviltini would be proud.

Natz hit Bend, OR. Good luck to the 503rd Regiment from Portland. PDX posting some fine results! Good luck, drink lots of warm whiskey.

Like my great grandpappy Kinevil used to say- “if I didn’t have bad lux, I wernt have no lux at all.”

Or, we’ll send the Krampus along with the mailman to beat your wife. It’s still a win/win.

You can buy socks in our nifty new shopping cart to the right – be sure to specify size in your paypal.

And then we’ll send this handsome sonofabitch to your house.

And this holiday season, we’re going to give a gift to you all. Yes, this is the sort of gift that everyone will talk about, in every town (especially in Iowa) from the mayor to the local bum. And the gift is the following image.

Long live The Pole Riders.

poleriders.blogspot.com

Some people have a difficult time defining their comfort levels. Of pain on the bike, of proximity to people, what your sleep number is, so on and so on. Some people can reach zen-like states of comfort in any setting, no matter how chaotic.

Our Bear is one of those people.

You see, on Ragbrai you live elbow-to-asshole with your teammates for a long, stinky, sweaty, naked, alcohol-soaked week. Time for personal care is close to nil, and one must take measures to make sure all comfort levels are maintained. Dear Bear has the unique ability to stay calm at any juncture in life because of his skill to pull his goalie in any setting. Yup, flog the bishop, shine the pony, pull the string….whatever you want to call it, Bear could reach this form of comfort at the drop of a hat.

Here’s a picture of Bear, reaching in to tug the General’s coat, right on the ol’ bus and right under the watchful eye of a tripping Carter.

I used to write a column on this site as a slightly younger, angrier dude, about pro cyclists and their insane and committed doping habits. As perhaps many of you, when I first got into following pro cycling in 1999 (i’ve ridden since the mid 80’s), I had no idea what the dirty truth was. Now I am intimately educated on the who’s where’s and what’s of the scourge in my beloved sport.

And while it still irks me to the nth degree, and I’ll still leave comments on websites of fanboys and dipshits who still uphold the name of say, one Lance Armstrong (FatCyclist’s glossy export being the latest) among others (Basso, etc), I won’t be writing the scathing broadsides I once did. The wind is out of that sail, and besides, when there are other good writers hitting the nail on the head out there like Walsh, Kimmage, NYVelocity, etc, there’s no need for my drivel. I still feel strongly about it because of one very simple reason – it’s important to me as a fan. I am saddened when I see folks in blissful lockstep with others completely blinded to the truth. I am saddened to see cheating at epic Dr. Moreau-ish levels. I am saddened to see the clean ones get their dinner stolen by unscrupulous sorts. I am saddened to see the whole shebang – not just the riders – I mean the managers and the doctors and the whole stinking, dirty machine. It saddens me to see the good guys out there (because there’s a lot of them) getting fucked over by the machine and the big names.

Here’s the nutshell – while we might be making a turn of sorts, cycling is still dirty as shit. The return of Lance keeps the boat on that tack, too, since he’s such a fan of the omerta and his nasty Ferrari-esque habits. If you do your homework (and it doesn’t take much digging) you can find out everything you need to know to make an educated opinion. If you choose any counterargument, please do not bring up testing (fixed), LeMond (correct), or Livestrong (one good deed hides ten bad ones). Just because you hate Lance doesn’t mean you love cancer, don’t be so stupid and naive. There are many other far more noble and correct ways to join the fight against cancer rather than support an egomaniac.

That said, I’ll still watch my favorite races, but with my internal radar focused to watch it like I would pro wrestling. It’s all a sham. And I know, it’s rife in other sports, too. But I like cycling, not other sports. Well, I do like football and soccer, and we know there’s some needle ponies there, too.

So sure, we’ll dip our ladle in the newest news on the big days of the sport, and expect some snide comments and understand that here in the All-Black camp we know exactly what is going on out there with the fresh cells, the latest generation of EPO, and all the rest. Sad but true. And remember – if it walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck….it’s probably a duck. We’ll keep our doping to the one-e and the bottle.

But it’s a good one.

The ugly truth

Boulder? Hello?