Talk about getting caught with your pants down.

I mean, here I was planning on being little more than a puff of smoke today, and then life and logic and science came along and made a fool out of me.

Of course this means that I had absolutely nothing planned for today’s post, because aside from spending what I thought was my last day on earth and what I know was the last penny to my name on a swimming pool filled with strawberry Jello®, I wasn’t putting a whole lot of attention towards what I do here for ‘work’.
Now here we are on Monday, as near as I can tell no one was whisked away to the great beyond, and Harold Camping, along with his several thousand totally broke followers are still here among us.
To that end, I was looking for a follow up article to an NPR piece I read abut folks who had given away all of their everything to help spread the word and so far all I’ve found was this.
At six pm on the nose I happened to be speaking on the phone with one Billy ‘Souphorse’ Sinkford, and we were discussing aspects of faith. I mentioned that I am all for the stuff, as it is a quality that helps people heal themselves of terminal illnesses, or simply get through deep and dark periods in their lives. It’s like an unflinching spiritual trust.
Though Blind faith in general, and certainly when existing on a mass level, can be a profoundly scary thing.
In light of all of the events of last week, I suppose it was just a matter of time before something like the following image came along;
Randy Savage died to save all life on earth, and my faith in mankind’s ability to maintain a sense of humor was restored.
That’s something Harold Camping maybe never took into consideration.
And speaking of blind faith, how about that Lance Armstrong?
For any readers who might not be in the know, the proverbial shit has pretty much hit the fan, first with Tyler Hamilton’s interview on 60 minutes (which was fairly well excruciating to watch), then George Hincapie’s testimony, and now Frankie Andreau’s support of them both. The noose is tightening.
Some say his goose is cooked, while others use far more colorful wordage.
I’d like to be a fly on the walls of all of his legions of defenders this week.
Anyway, for my part, I too felt the need to absolve my sins, and with the use of the Twitter, came clean about my own history of drug use, noting that they enhanced my popsicle, grilled cheese sandwich, smoked almond, ice cream, orange juice and potato chip eating performance by 42%. It was a weight I needed to get off my chest, and for the first time in years, I slept a sleep of the innocent.
Drugs and drama aside, in news of my own engagement with speed cycling, and End Times®, in preparation for the big day, I took my new steed out on Thursday and rode it exactly 66.66 miles;
For the average person this might not have been such a feat. As a matter of fact, 63 of those miles were really nothing to write home about but the final three(point)sixty-six I felt as if Lemmy himself had reached down from the heavens and beat me up with my own legs. Then, as if that weren’t enough, I came to the conclusion that both of my nipples had actually rubbed raw to the point of bleeding.
Could it be that the excitement of this new bicycle was enough to keep my nipples erect and rubbing continuously against the inside of my jersey? At this point, I can only say possibly.
I’m not totally sure that Rapha doesn’t sell some kind of salve for this issue;
If they do, and any of the Raphaites are listening, I need your help.
For now I am using the Wendy O’Williams tactic of keeping them hidden with electrical tape and it’s working like a champ.
It even allowed me to adventure out into the dirt with Sky for a piece on Saturday. We both figured that since our time on a peaceful planet was limited, why not go out and spend some time in the woods with dirt bicycle machines and backpacks full of cans;
Actually, acknowledging that one’s time here is generally limited, Rapture or not, engaging in this sort of activity is a pretty good daily practice anyhow.
But back to drugs, and their irresponsible use, Brij sent me this bit last week, which leaves us both feeling fairly old. By the way, if the church lady sits next to you at work, you might want to turn your volume down a notch;
“Hi Stevil,
So you’re an arbiter of taste and what’s up with the crazy kids. Thought I’d send along the latest and greatest for your consideration: Earl Sweatshirt. Of course you might already be way up on this stuff. Wish I could say I completely got it, I have a few ideas, but thought you might be interested nonetheless. OFWGKTA–Odd Future Wolf Gang Kill Them All Don’t Give a Fuck Loiter Squad in full–the latest thing in hip-hop. Definitely raw–youngsters who are blowing out their elders. They’re into drugs, horror movies, and the usual topics.

And an article from the forthcoming New Yorker.

Well, I can say at least they’re not out in the streets causing trouble..
Dipping into the mail bag, Ted got ahold of me with some stimulation for my idle brain;
I don’t understand what compels a person to do this, let alone film it.


What compels a person to do this let alone film it? I would guess just because they can, and for that I have to offer thanks. I might be low on blood sugar, but that made my eyeballs cry with laughtears.
At least as far as the blood sugar thing goes, luckily I can probably take care of that with a feast of a surplus of at least 25,000 gallons of strawberry Jello®.

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14 Responses to “Talk about getting caught with your pants down.”

  1. Teamfubar May 23, 2011 at 5:40 am #

    I once had nipples bleed so badly that two long red streaks ran down my jersey. Now, I just cover the ends of my nipples with some NewSkin or other liquid bandage of some sort. Works like a champ.
    Also, check out a product called Silk from a company called Skin Strong. Their Slather seemed to be a good product. Haven’t used Silk myself, but it seems like it is what you’re looking for.

  2. Moneyfire May 23, 2011 at 7:24 am #

    It sort of seems that in my neck of the cycling world the newest “revelations” about Lance have been met with a resounding shrug. I guess my thought was that the Lance camps were either “he doped and that is cheating, he sucks” or “he doped, like everyone else.” I had really thought the last 14 people who believed he (that era, which may extend to the present) raced clean had packed up their tent and gone home.

  3. Stevil May 23, 2011 at 7:40 am #

    At this point however, we’re looking toward the conclusion, which might involve Federal charges, fraud, bribery, extortion, drug trafficking, and a whole lot of other things that you only see in mob shows. Coupled with the fact that this isn’t just a single person, but his empire that will be affected, the trickle down effect across the sport as a whole will be resounding. The golden boy will be made into a shamed example. At this point, that’s what I find most interesting.

  4. The Tashkent Error May 23, 2011 at 7:52 am #

    so, 25k gallons of strawberry Jello®? that’s about 94 635.2946 litres (we use metric in Uzbekistan), which is 94,6352946 m3 to arrange into a swimming pool shape. let’s assume that you’d need it to be at least 1.5m deep on average and at least 4m wide to accommodate two to three people doing lengths at the same time, which would make it just short of 16 metres. that’s pretty unimpressive, I have to say. I thought you were much better off..

  5. Frank May 23, 2011 at 8:05 am #

    He’ll be made an example but all this nonsense has the potential to make life difficult for many of us on the periphery. Many of us in bike shops, industry and such have been riding the Lance gravy train with biscuit wheels for years, as much as I think he’s personally a jackass.

  6. Robert May 23, 2011 at 9:00 am #

    Always wear an undershirt. If you get a proper one (light wool for instance) it’s perfect for any condition, hot or cold. Your nipples will thank you. Or maybe me. That would be pretty cool, I guess.

  7. Stevil May 23, 2011 at 9:20 am #

    You’ve seen through my charade. I always forget that the readers of this site tend to be much smarter than I am.

  8. Loudass, Esq. May 23, 2011 at 11:37 am #

    They won’t charge Lance criminally. The U.S. Attorney got its nose bloodied with the Bonds case and now has no stomach for this sort of thing. That insurer will certainly go after him for civil fraud, but that’s only money, of which Lance has plenty. In any case, no one has won the Tour clean since… well, probably never. Lance was just unlucky to get ratted out by his pals.

  9. chad May 23, 2011 at 3:25 pm #

    Tyler is a dick. …but it has little to do with drugs. George is too dumb to realize, much less remember, what is going on. And Frankie was never anything and never will be. As for Lance?…I still don’t care. I hope he used something. I hope he was drunk as f*&k and banging hookers every night. …and now the “capthcha” words below are “analingl coalitions” what the f*&k kind of word is “analingl”?

  10. daniel g May 23, 2011 at 7:29 pm #

    And who really gives a fuck. Let it go

  11. nowheels May 23, 2011 at 11:32 pm #

    Was I the only one to watch the EARL vid? What the Fuck! I liked that they had a good buddy film them. Hook me up with that elixir and I too could suffer up some euro HC with the rest of dopers.

  12. Bicycle Bob May 24, 2011 at 9:12 am #

    I find a little chamois cream on the nips helps with the salty sweat jersey rub…

  13. Andy Reimer May 24, 2011 at 1:06 pm #

    If the Earl video didn’t sate your appetite for drugs and rap…

  14. Raw Down Under May 24, 2011 at 4:54 pm #

    Dudeman- I will have to send you a tube of Paw-Paw. It is the answer to your soreness. I discovered that it also works as a wonderful bag balm for the sore bits “down under”. The label claims it works for boils, burns, gravel rash and nappy rash. I dont think the manufacturers even know about their potential in the cycling world.