Grudging admiration

July 4, 2012 § 4 Comments

Dear Wankmeister:

You were kind of off again on that Peraud dude. Looks like he just flat out sucks.

But sheesh, you were spot on with Humpty Ugly and your prediction that he’d win the field sprunt. Dog. He just ripped ‘em all a new one.

You are such a stud, WM. What’s your call for tomorrow?

Frenchily,
B. Hinault

Dear Badger Dude:

There’s little question that Jean-Christophe Peraud has had some bad luck these past several stages, not least because of the terrible case of septicemia he had a couple of years ago following a bad crash. Tomorrow, however, is a perfect stage for him. Winner of Stage Five: Peraud by a zip code.

The rest of the results are harder to predict. On a historical note, the race ends in Saint-Quentin, the site of Johnny Cash’s legendary live prison performance in 1969. Expect “Orange Blossom Special” and “Jackson” to be blaring along the route, and June Carter Cash to serve as one of the podium girls.

Best of the rest:

Humpty Ugly: He’ll take it again. All of it. In a thundering, gorilla-like, Aryan blast to the line Greipel will put all challengers to the sword after sucking wheel and filing his nails for the entire 197-km route. His lead-out train will be perfect. All others will scramble for crumbs.

Tyler Farrar: Who?

Horseface: Crash out like he did in Stage 3 of the 2012 Giro, Stage 4 of the 2012 Turdy, Stage 4 of the 2010 Tour de Suisse, etc.

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.

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