Evil Cycling

Here’s Kira. She got boob cancer. She then kicked cancer right in its balls and told it to go fuck itself in the face. She’s now back on the bike, and she’s going to come and kick someone’s ass on the road pretty soon. I’d be happy to take a whipping on the bike from this amazing woman. Actually, her beating me doesn’t amount to much. She probably could’ve ridden away from me in the middle of her chemo cycle, I’d wager. But someone soon is going to say “ouch”. And like it.

She’s pointing it out to you, in case you’re missing the point.

And Grant holds the keys to the kingdom.

“Team Evil holds secret training camp in Canadian Rockies. Cheever, Stevil and Dave emerge to sweep Olympic Figure Skating podium.”

Among the other attendees were drug dealers, whores, and Too Short.

Best training camp ever.

And the answer is yes.

Victory is fun. Just ask Anna Grace.

She’s a pack a day smoker with chronic joint inflammation, who has broken all her limbs multiple times in car accidents. But when she puts the Evil on and jumps in a hilly-ish Cat 4 women’s road race in Oregon, she becomes a threshing machine on a bike killing all vegetation around her. Oh yeah, and winning the race. Which then immediately results in handstands, which she’ll maintain for about an hour.

nice socks

Of course, to the victor go the spoils and in this case it was one free PBR to the winner and each of her support crew, and also the launch codes for all of North Korea’s nuclear missiles. She can do with them as she pleases.

win a  bike race, get nuclear codes in an envelope

We’re lobbying for target suggestions, so leave a comment and tell us who we should nuke. The front runner is the Vatican. Who needs those assholes anyway?

So get your Evil on, and become a super power just like that. You might also get some beer out of the deal.

Say it aint so Floyd.

And one thing we can’t blame on the whisky, is The Cheever. While Floyd was busy downloading all the cheats for Space Invaders for his Atari 2600, our dear Cheever had purloined a bra and lined up and the women’s “Clothing Optional Criterium” held in San Luis Obispo over the weekend. Here’s Chevil, enjoying his pre-race smoke.

Although, if there was a chance to see some tits, or a free beer involved, we’d sell out. Or, we’d trade you something. Tell you what, how about you give us 100 bucks, some free vouchers for chips, wings, and lap dances at Magic Garden, and we’ll give you Cheever. Straight up.

Well, thank you, dear Evil brothers and sisters, as we’ve had our first sell out in history, and in amazing time. All of our hats went out the door in under two weeks. Another order is placed, and all orders have been filled and shipped today. A healthy number of you opted for the free porn, too, which is nice to see. Everybody wants smoking fetish porn with their cycling attire, don’t they? That’s what I thought.

Now, we have  doctor, but he’s not “Dr Evil” in the Myers sense, nor is he “Dr Evil” in the Ferrari sense. Our doctor just keeps our fangs straight, and keeps us full of enough amphetamines no just to race with, but moreso to stay awake at the bar. He looks like this saucy dick knocker:

So thanks for your support. We’ll have more hats soon, but we’re still ok on Socks and Stickers so order away on those items. In the meantime, watch this piece of cycling greatness.

Just ask Sarah Palin! Retards are funny when it’s satire, like Rush Limbaugh, but she’s not laughing when she looks at us on bikes. She’s calling for our resignation. Wait a minute…is she retarded too? Yes, I guess she is. Boyhowdy, she’s as retarded as they come, but I digress.

But we’re the soft heads of the peloton, and we wholeheartedly accept that moniker. We should really get our own lanes and our helmets should be twice as big as anyone else’s.

We’ve made a little late night naughty-no-no rendezvous with the estimable Toto. Gaze upon this sultry image. Smells like wanton sex to me. Also smells like bananas and rum.

twirling towards freedom….

We’ve also made our way into mainstream life, for some folks who may not be of mainstream lifestyle, but have been forced to make their money therein. As a wise man once told us “the job is not who you are, it simply finances who you are.” Amen, brother Ed. So, if you’re stuck there for the time being, and need a reminder of real life, you can sticker your cubicle like the fair Alana, behold:

We’re right by the Output Room – which to us means “toilet”

Yup, the call it a “gentleman’s affair” but we won’t be gentle. Especially if there’s any bung involved. Then we get all mad chimp-like.

So click here to find out all the rad details. Show up with rotten tomatoes, and aim at the guys in Black.