Vroom, vroom, Froome!

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Newsflash! Chris Froome is on drugs!

Newsflash! Yawn!

Newsflash! So am I! (Beer’s a drug, right?)

Several different methodologies have pointed out the obvious: When the Froomster’s time on Ax3 beats Lance and others in their doping heyday … it’s pretty plain he’s doping! This story in Outside confirms what everyone knows and no one cares about. The Tour de France is athletic bike porn.

It’s not real. The performances are not real. Everything is staged. It is as comparable to the sex you have with your wife as the stuff they show on www.superpornstaraction.com.

The problem with the Outside.com analysis is that it involves numbers. I hate numbers. I still don’t know who got to the town faster, the man driving x miles per hour at y velocity, or the train that left the station at time z going speed f divided by the number of apples in a bushel.

What I do know is that the dude who took the most drugs clandestinely is winning the Tour. How do I know? I know because of Wiggins.

The Wiggo factor

Was I the only one who noticed that the defending Tour champ abdicated shortly after winning? And that’s like, the only time that’s ever happened? And, it’s, like, incomprehensible? And what’s more bizarre, he didn’t even retire, he just said that next year it would be the Froomster?

What the fucking fuck?

Then I thought about it, and now I can explain it, especially since Wiggo has vanished from the scene. Here’s what happened.

Wiggins was put on Brailsford’s plan of “marginal gains.” This means microdosing and evading detection by training in Mallorca, where the testers can’t surprise you. Wiggins, who is an alcoholic nutcase, was driven to the brink of insanity because he had to go from a track rider/stage race flailer to Tour contender. The insanity was caused by his fear of getting busted; Wiggins has shown in his autobiography and elsewhere that he is a very fragile mental case.

Froome, who was an absolute nobody before Brailsford got him on the drug program, could have won the Tour in 2012. This would have been uncool, because Wiggins was winning sprint finishes, destroying all preparatory stage races, and on track to win the Tour in Britain’s Olympic year.

Brailsford therefore cut a deal with Froome. Wiggins would win in 2012 and the Froomster would win in 2013. The parties essentially agreed to this in public when Wiggins said that he wouldn’t defend his Tour title but would focus on the Giro. This is like someone saying they weren’t going to defend their NCAA baskeball title but would instead focus on the NIT.

Man of his word

Wiggins went from being unbeatable in 2012 to Mr. Nobody in 2013. He flailed and bailed in the Giro, and distinguished himself in the build-up races by being completely indistinct. He faded from the scene, and, trust me, you will never hear from him again. He is a fragile crazypants who cannot cope with the cheating and lying required by the Brailsford doping program. His pro career is over, and we should thank him for contributing “bone idle wankers” to our lexicon. 

Froome, on the other hand, has all the qualities of a top-tier level doper. He boldly proclaims his cleanness. He destroys his rivals by massive margins. He throws out wattage — 6.3 w/kg and more — that are impossible in an undoped state. Best of all, he is backed by the drug enabling quotes of Brailsford, who tosses off bizzaricisms like “At some point in time, clean performances will surpass the doped performances in the past.”

What?

That’s like saying, “At some point, Formula 1 cars with no aerodynamic fairings and design will go as fast as those that are wholly aerodynamic.”

It makes no fucking sense at all, based as it is on neither data nor science, but merely on the assertions of someone trying to defend an obviously doped stable of athletes.

Thankfully, VeloNews and other lickspittle cycling magazines have accepted this at face value because their advertising depends on the deluded and jaded readers who either don’t know or don’t care that everything produced by Team Sky flies in the face of reality and fairness. The pedestrian, non-superhuman times turned in by those who are racing against the Froomster show that although the peloton is cleaner, top honors still go to the cheater who goes biggest and who dares anyone to bust him.

At least with Lance, the winner had a cool name, attractive wristbands, and a series of good looking women permanently attached to his arm.

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