Gitcher Stage Four winner here

July 3, 2012 § 6 Comments

Okay, so I didn’t exactly nail it yesterday when I predicted that Jean-Christophe Peraud was gonna bring home the bacon.

On the other hand, it’s a Wednesday night before July the 4th, and instead of being out with friends, hooking up, and letting some studmuffin or hot chick or both lick coke off your nipples, you’re reading a stupid cycling blog. So don’t tell me I’m the loser.

Prediction for Turdy France Stage Four

Stage Four is a repetition of Stage Two, only more so. It’s long. It’s flat. It’s boring. It’s stupid. The only people who will enjoy this are the ones who are actually in France, drunk by 9:00 AM, lying prostrate in a ditch while a studmuffin or hot chick or both licks coke off their nipples. Everyone else who even pretends to care or be interested or, Dog forbid, set aside time to watch this Xanax stage is hopeless.

After carefully analyzing this featureless borefest, here’s my prediction. Take it to the fucking bank: Jean-Christophe Peraud will win the stage and pull on yellow.

Why Peraud? Not because, at age 34, he was the oldest Tour rookie last year by almost a hundred years. Not because he’s a mountain biker and therefore taps out after 45 minutes. Not because of his legendary septicemia that he got after that nasty crash.

No.

Peraud is going to spank the shit out of the competition tomorrow because he’s been training with a cryogenic suit. You know how they froze Ted Williams so they could cure him later, and how except for the fact that his frozen head kept falling on the floor and losing big chunks he was all set to be thawed someday and made good as new?

Well, that’s what the Ag2R Mondiale team has been doing.

“Fuck you, Wankmeister, you’re so full of shit.”

No…FUCK YOU. And after the fucking, read this link. Peraud will be minimally inflamed after the last hard stage finish at Baloney-on-Toast due to the cryotherapy suit. He’s going to rip the panties off the peloton and deliver a world-class fucking. You watch.

The best of the rest

Saggs: He has no hope of a third win. It’s impossible. Forget about it. Why? Because that little fucktard “running salute” he did 300 yards in front of the next dude whose brains were draining out his ear was too hideous. The gods of Anquetil won’t allow that shit for a stage that finishes in Rouen.

Fabs: Another day in yellow. Maybe he’ll buy some better hair pomade with the bonus. Who knows? @mmmaiko doesn’t care, as long as he maket twattle.

Horseface: He’s going to melt quicker than a pat of butter on a cougar’s belly. Then they’ll smear him all over the road.

Humpty Ugly: Humpty will, after injecting three quarts of testosterpoetinruggedmaxxx2 into his butt and thighs, crush the field sprint. No one will come close. His gigantism, wrapped out at 3900 watts, will power the Tour’s telecommunication satellites for the next week. Pay close attention to his left arm, though, as he suppresses that Dr. Strangelove “achtung” salute with his right hand.

Mullet: Crash. Lose 2-3 minutes waiting for a bike change. Get all nervous and upset and start doing butterfly strokes in the nearby ditch. Regret hiring a swimming coach for his doping program.

Check in tomorrow to see how right I am. Winning!

Wrong again!

July 3, 2012 § 6 Comments

Dear Wankmeister:

Well, anudder day, anudder wrong predictions. You don know shit about wielrenner. You say Sagan a fuck no, Sagan win. You say Peraud gonna winner, dat fuk a loser. You say Hutarovich gonna seconder, dat fuk a hunnerd durdy-sixer. You gonna shoulda toss a computer inna dumpster and shut up fuk mouth.

Scornfully,
Pleghmy van Flandria

Dear Phleghmy,

Dude, I was so on target. You just didn’t “get it.” Are you related to Mr. Really Smart, the douchebag who commented on yesterday’s masterpiece? You sure sound like it.

I told Saggs yesterday (and I quote) “Don’t even fucking think about it.” This referred to his lame Fabs wheelsuck from Stage 2. I wasn’t forbidding him from winning. In fact, in a reverse psychological way I was actually encouraging him to win, which he did. So I not only got it right, I’m entitled to at least half of his winnings. So fuck you for that.

Peraud didn’t win, but he almost won, which is pretty much the same thing. He got 37th. When’s the last time you got 37th in a Tour stage, asshole? Fucking never, that’s when.

Hutarovich didn’t get second overall, but he got second after the dude who was the first person to place #135. So fuck you for that, too.

We can ignore all that crap, though. The money prediction was that Mullet would fuck up and act like a wanker. And you know what? He did!!! Like an idiot, he got caught up behind a crash and finished :49 down on the winning group. Now you’re like, “So vat bout dat? He’s a still a seconder overall and he’s aheader of dat Cadel. Don give no cheese fart bout dat.”

Of course, you’re wrong again, because it shows that when the chips are down, Mullet’ll act like a noob and crash out, or get all nervous and do something dumb. You watch. This was the Klutz Overture to what promises to be a Brad Dorkington Symphony.

Psychically,
Wankmeister

PS: Notice how perfectly I predicted Horseface and Humpty Ugly? 153rd and 38th, respectively. Damn, I’m good.

Why are you such a putz?

July 2, 2012 § 8 Comments

Dear Wankmeister:

Why are you such a putz? Late last night, between your fourth bottle of Everclear and your fifth tray of chocolate chip cookies, you railed and ranted about how Horseface was going to get spanked by Greipel. Well, how do you feel now, you pompous douchebag? Cav showed he’s the real deal, don’t need no lead-out train, and can drag Humpty Ugly around by the ballsack at will. Hope you’re reconsidering your decision to be a cycling prognosticator, and will soon return to your day job as gutter scum.

Laughingly,
Merry Tricious

Dear Merry:

Horseface is so lucky it’s not even funny. If you watch the last 200m, you’ll see where he gets a push from Snarky Olvetchkin, just as Humpty mis-shifts. Then, those smokin’ hot babes with the podium tits lean over the barricade, and Humpty, who’s all man, takes his eye off the ball and his mind wanders. Boom. In the twinkling of an eye, Horseface slips by. Wait ’til the next stage. Humpty’s gonna mash on Horseface like a spatula on a strip of fatty bacon.

Also, Gangsta Chick will be there with a fog mist machine and electric light-up hipster wheels for Humpty, so even if he doesn’t pull off the win, he’s gonna be the raddest dude in the wankoton.

Unflinchingly,
Wankmeister

PS: Fuck you and your whole family tree, single trunk with no branches that it is.

You’re not in kindergarten anymore, Horseface

May 11, 2012 § 2 Comments

I swore I wouldn’t waste even a second of my time writing about “L’Affaire du Sprint” involving Ferrari, Horseface, The Anointed One, and the other riders who fell down in the gallop to the line at the end of Stage 3 in the 2012 Giro d’Italia. But then again, I’m an inveterate liar.

As is usual in such cases, the most eloquent explanations come from those involved. Before we get to that, however, let’s review a few basic rules of field sprinting in major races.

Rule 1: If you cross the line first, you win.
Rule 2: Everyone else doesn’t win.
Rule 3: If you fall down, you’re an idiot.
Rule 4: If you make someone else fall down, you might get punished. Or you might wind up with Rule 1 and a contract renewal.
Rule 5: Field sprinters win by sprinting in proximity to lots of other crazily flailing madmen. They take enormous risks to do so and invariably crash. It’s their job.
Rule 6: There is no prize for “Non-winner with the best excuse for not winning.”
Rule 7: Everyone is crazy mad dangerous can’t hold a fucking line in a sprint except you.

Recap: Roberto Ferrari swerved in the sprint and knocked down Horseface, The Anointed One, and a bunch of people who don’t matter because they’re not Horseface or The Anointed One.

This type of thing never happens in pro cycling, especially in big races, well, okay, it happens rarely, really rarely, like hardly ever. For example:

Stage 22, TdF 1991, li’l mix-up
Stage 4, TdSuisse 2010, Horseface brings down the house
Stage 11, TdF 2010, Whingey shows “respect” with head-butt
Schildeprijs 2009, uh, BAM!
Stage 1, Eneco Tour 2009, dude in orange “holds his line”…but the line is about 6-ft. wide
Stage 10, VaE 1994, Cipo changes lanes into barriers…oops
Stage 7, Tirreno-Adriatico 1999, shoulder check, launch, and bike toss

When I used to whine like this, I got a whipping

“Because things are changing in the peloton, there’s not the respect that there used to be. That means there’s a lot more crashes…a sprint team wants to stay at the front, and a sprint team is fighting with a GC team. If every team tries to stay together and stay at the front it becomes more of a stress.” Mark Cavendish

In other words, the sprint stages should only be contested by the “sprint” teams. The “GC” teams should leave Cav alone. It’s his stage, dude. Gots his name on it. Oh, and what exactly is a “GC” team? A team that shouldn’t be bothering with minor things like stage wins? And what about “GC” teams that also have “sprint” teams, like, uh…Horseface’s squad and Garmacuda? Or is this another one of those unwritten rule deals, where riders are just supposed to “know” when they can contest a stage? But it gets better…

“Since Highroad fell apart, there seems to be a lot less respect for each team during the leadout. On Monday we saw Sky try and take control and yet still there were riders coming underneath on the corners. When Highroad was in action, other teams would base their sprint on riding off the back of us and their tactic was to wait until the last minute. This year it’s a case of going to the front and if it’s detrimental to the team doing the lead out, then it doesn’t seem to matter.” Mark Renshaw

In other words, when Sky or Garmacuda or Rabobank goes to the front with a fancy lead-out train, sit back and let them fucking win. Just like last year. It’s called “respect.” What would these pathetic, cowering whiners have done if they’d had to face someone like Abdoujaparov? Besides poop in their shorts, I mean.

“Ouch! Crashing at 75kph isn’t nice! Nor is seeing Roberto Ferrari’s manoeuvre. Should be ashamed to take out Pink, Red & World Champ jerseys.” Mark Cavendish

Not ashamed to say “fuck you.”

Dangerous sprinting is bad, but dangerous sprinting that knocks down really important riders is worse, because, you know, they’re really important. Also, as the Red and World Champ jersey, he’s two people, so it’s like, doubly bad. Of course, nothing wrong with shooting cute little “victory fuck you’s” to your adoring public, sponsors, TV cameras, families with small children…nothing wrong with that.

“Is the team of Roberto Ferrari or the UCI going to do the right thing? Other riders, including myself, have been sent home for much less.” Mark Cavendish

Really? I Googled “Mark Cavendish expulsion/expelled/disqualified/disqualification/sent home” and found nothing indicating that he’d ever been expelled from a pro race. And what brand of crack is he smoking? People get expelled from the Giro for doping, like Pantani, or disqualified, like Contador. People get expelled for deliberate cheating, like Gerald Froome last year when he held onto a motorcycle to deliver him up to a feed zone. Dangerous sprinting gets you a relegation. Check this out from Stage 17 of the 2011 Giro, which involved actual one-armed punching and hitting in the sprint. There’s no “dual track,” where you get relegated for knocking down a domestique, but disqualified for knocking down Pink/Red/Rainbow jerseys.

Horseface would like different rules for himself…wouldn’t we all?

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