The Endgame Pt.III...

There are stories that will come to light about the Lance Armstrong reign of terror that will be difficult to stomach for those who invested so much of themselves into believing "The Myth". But we cannot forget the side players who enabled this fraud to take on such gigantic proportions to the point where, like Wall Street, many believed Armstrong was too big to fail.

Kristen Armstrong is one of these people. I was told she was one of the first to have given testimony, first to the grand jury in the Federal case and then to the USADA. I was wrong. She decided to go down with the ship, despite the information about her that has become public. She must have known her name was going to come up but decided to take the coward's way out and remain silent. I can now correctly say the same exact thing about Sheryl Crow.

Now that the noxious fumes of Armstrong's reign of terror have been blown away by the USADA's damning report, we can now see who the enablers were. People have often spoken how badly Lance had treated both women, but there is a saying that describes such people-a woman who has an asshole for a boyfriend is an asshole herself. Turns out Kristen was one such asshole, with her botox-injected horses' ass for a face, rotisserie chicken complexion, and fake bonded veneers so blindingly white a NASA satellite spotted them from Mars and mistook them for giant solar panels. 

One of the stories, published today by David Walsh of the Sunday Times of London, tells of Kristen passing out cortisone tablets to the American squad at the World Championships in 1998 on behalf of Armstrong and whomever was coaching the squad. She also knew about the steroids Lance kept in their refrigerator right next to the butter, thinking only that PED's were "the cost of doing business". This is what this fucking bitch thought of the whole doping program. There was a tweet from nyvelocity that is succinct in it's sarcasm about this woman-

One woman won't let her husband dope. The other hands out drugs to his teammates. Guess which one blogs about religion, parenting and ethics?-nyvelocity via Twitter

The first woman referred to in the above tweet is Betsy Andreu, who told her husband that he needed to stop doping or quit cycling, or their marriage was over. The second woman is Kristen Armstrong, who never reverted to using her maiden name after the divorce from Captain Cock because then she would be just another anonymous, entitled white woman with a nice divorce settlement package and a house somewhere in Europe. You know how it is with brand recognition-who the fuck would read an article or buy a book written by a no-talent cunt named Kristen McGillecutty or whatever the fuck her real name is?

Here it is, the integrity of a whore-

Ladies and gentlemen, we present to you the wisdom of a serial douchebag. I never knew there was integrity in faking an orgasm. It's women like this, powerless in their own lives yet grabbing the bull by the horns when it comes to deception, that make me want to vomit. Kristen happily accepted the role as wife of Lance Armstrong because it gave her caché and the lifestyle of a snobby upper-class asshole that so many bleached-blonde bimbos aspire to but cannot attain on their own. She got to be the jet-setter, the first in line, with the beautiful home and not a care in the world. Yet, in marriage she whined about being "unfulfilled" because she didn't know "how much of herself she had to give up" being the spouse of a famous celebrity.

Here is an article written by Kristen explaining her poor little rich girl's dilemma. Please have a waste basket by your side, as you may not make it to the bathroom to vomit from the sheer disgust-

http://www.glamour.com/weddings/2006/07/kristin-armstrong

Someone sharpen the guillotine for this abominable twat.

Major League Baseball's PED Asscapades Pt.II...

Former major league relief pitcher Eric Gagne has gone on the record stating about 80% of his former Los Angeles Dodgers teammates were taking HgH during his playing days. This type of confession, while convenient in respect to the book he's recently published, shines a light on the rotten world of professional sports. And guess what? Nobody cares.

Only in the sport of cycling is there an exaggerated sense of outrage over the latest doping scandal, where people continually call for draconian lifetime bans for first-time offenses for crap like clenbuterol and whatever it was that Frank Schleck tested positive for during the Tour de France this last July. This is set up exclusively for the riders, who as we've witnessed over the course of scandal after scandal are the last in a chain of enablers and facilitators who continue to poison the sport unimpeded while the riders take the brunt of the sanctions.

Take the example of David Millar of the Garmin team. I recall when he had gotten busted, how the police arrested him while having dinner one evening and took him back to his apartment for a proper ransacking of his abode. All they found was a used vial of EPO. One. That was enough for his world to come crashing down. Gone was his lucrative contract, the house he was having built, and for the time being his career and reputation. All for one empty vial. Did the police get to the bottom of the steroid ring that made it possible for him to procure said product? Did any team official lose his livelihood? Did any team doctor lose his license to practice? Of course not.

But still, years later, he's being called a drugs cheat in interviews. Years after the fact he still has to go on television and explain himself. The press love hammering cyclists, but cats like Gagne are ignored or worse, marginalized out of public consciousness. Don't touch the sacred cow of the American Pastime, because no one wants to hear it.

David Millar of the Garmin pro cycling squad-

ESPN's resident contrarian asshead Skip Bayless actually got it right for once when he dared question Derek Jeter, the shortstop/national monument of the New York Yankees, who is having an MVP-caliber season at the age of 38 (yes, another Festivus Miracle!!!). Sports columnists had been writing for years how Jeter was losing his defensive range, and his batting average also spoke to the inevitable decline that all aging ball players suffer, especially ones who don't know when to give it up. Jeter was actually aghast a few years ago at the possibility of a pay cut when his current contract expired, and couldn't comprehend why the Yankees wouldn't sign him for another fourteen years at the same salary, if not more.

Despite what an ambassador he is to the game, Jeter exhibited the same hubris and ego that goes along with being the golden boy of his sport. Baseball is about eternal summer, not only for the fans but for the players. There are only two places where flabby middle-aged men can relive their youth, a time warp where a fountain of youth still exists where these entitled, dickless motherfuckers can drag their flaccid, flabby, diabetic, high-blood pressured carcasses and feel young and beautiful again-third world whorehouses and baseball stadiums.

Forget that taking  PED's can not only prolong careers, but in certain cases enhance performances leading to awesome stats and even awesomer long-term contracts. This is what Melky Cabrera was banking on, and he crapped out big-time. He was going into next season's free agency market looking for that much-sought after long term deal which would have guaranteed his and family a life of easy living. But he got caught, and at the age of 28 he is no longer considered a viable long-term investment. The nature of his statistical leap from lifetime .270 hitter to batting title contender can only be traced to one thing-the use of performance enhancing drugs.

Let's take a look at the numbers, because baseball fans, if anything, are obsessed with statistics. During the five years Cabrera played with the New York Yankees, his batting average was .269. There is nothing outstanding about this, so what does it prove? Nothing, until you get to 2009, where he batted .255 for Atlanta. In 2010. The very next year he goes on to hit over .300 (.305 to be exact) for the first time in his major league career. Before testing positive this year he was hitting .346. That's a jump of almost 100 points in two years after having his worst statistical year in batting average percentage. This anomaly is the equivalent of Bob Beamon's long jump record, except that in baseball it NEVER happens. NEVER. But it happened to THIS fucking guy, and just before he was set to command maximum dollars in the free agency market.

Cabrera with A-Rod and Robinson Cano, having "a loosey-goosey time"...

Well, that market has dried up, because everyone now knows how he achieved these numbers. He is a product of the paradigm shift that has overtaken amateur and professional sports since the 1970's. Steroids are here to stay, and they will continue to dominate the landscape of sport as long as cheaters continue to be one step ahead of the anti-doping authorities. But it's not only that. Steroid use is the equivalent of having your husband go to work every day selling credit default swaps. The people who engage in this activity,  if asked to a man, don't consider this type of work dishonest. Neither do athletes who cheat, and neither do their fans.

This is what society is confronted with when dealing with cheaters-the hypocrisy of their own thought process. Most people make apologies for people like Lance Armstrong not only because of their blind hero worship. Put in the same position, most people would cheat given the opportunity, because money and fame trumps integrity every time. Derek Jeter knows this all too well, and the issue at hand is his fans desperately want to think of Jeter as the player he was in 1996, and not the aging ballplayer of 38 who is having an athletic renaissance that is as suspicious as any I've ever seen.

As they say in baseball, the numbers don't lie. But when presented with with the numbers, what truth do they tell? And does anyone want to hear it when it's in their face? Melky Cabrera is an expendable character in this sad, sordid mess. Latin, not very loveable, not at all charming in front of the cameras, is not a good-looking man and was never a transcendent star until this year. Derek Jeter is the sacred cow in a sport where sanctity of the game and its' players trumps everything else.

That's the only math that matters in baseball, nothing else.

Film Recommendation of the Week...

Belzec
Release Date-November 23, 2005.
Running Time-1 hour 40 minutes.
Polish/Hebrew/German w/English subtitles.

In our ongoing series featuring films and documentaries on the Holocaust, we have this documentary by Gullaume Moscovitz. Claude Lanzmann was the executive producer for this project, which is meant as an addendum to his epic and controversial work "Shoah". This film focuses on the very first camp built by the Nazis for the sole purpose of extermination of the Jews. Little is known about this camp in Southeastern Poland because the retreating Nazis managed to raze it to the ground and left almost no traces of the crimes that took place there. There was also no organized revolt as Treblinka and Sobibor (not for lack of trying by the inmates, who were ratted out by one of their own on at least one occasion that we know of). But the townsfolk remain, and they have stories to tell about that horrible time...

Interviewed are people who were forced to work for the camp-a local Pole who helped construct some of the buildings, a local bakery that delivered bread daily to the camp, and one of only four known survivors who, as a little girl, was forced to hide buried in a woodshed until she was liberated by the Russian counteroffensive.

Painting of the camp by a Polish resident of Belzec-

This camp was similar in detail to Treblinka, where initially bodies were buried in mass graves and then, when the order came from above, the Jews who worked in the Sonderkommando were forced to dig the pits up and burn as many bodies as possible. And like in Treblinka, there was no gas used in the mass murder of the Jews. It was all done from the exhaust fumes of a tank engine.

Still in all, due the excavations at the camp site meant to locate the exact places where the building strcutures and burial pits were located, it is estimated that around 15,000 bodies were kept buried, packed so tightly together it was impossible to get to the bottom of the pit with a drill.

One of the last surviving Polish construction workers drawing a diagram of a building he help erect on the camp grounds-

Like Lanzmann's documentary, this film is devoid of any archival footage, relying instead on images from the camp site as it existed when the interviews were taken in 2002. After the excavators and archaeologists finished their work, a proper memorial has been erected on the camp grounds to honor the dead of Belzec, whose exact numbers will probably never be known but are listed at approximately 600,000 people in the span of nine months from March to December of 1942.

The Endgame Pt.II...

The cynical, Machiavellian charade that has been Lance Armstrong's joke of a cycling career is finally coming to a close, barring anymore jurisdictional pirouettes by Pat McQuaid, the current head of the UCI. All that would do is delay the inevitable, because there is no way he would get a favorable ruling from the Court of Arbitration for Sport (CAS). All the intimidation, all the unbridled and unaccounted for fits of goonery, all the bullying, has come to naught.

The battle over the public perception of Armstrong has disintegrated to the point where it's impossible to respect anyone who has anything positive to say about this lantern-jawed, HgH-torsoed uber-goon. It is an unfortunate aspect of life that leadership is usually bestowed upon those who have a clear and distinct advantage over others, not because of any innate leadership qualities. They must also be willing to intimidate all non-hackers and marginalize any and all dissent. This is Armstrong in a nutshell.

His ascendance up the ladder of pro cycling was the result of a Faustian pact only an asshole of such gargantuan proportions could have pulled off . He decided he was going to take his doping to insane heights, and because he got close enough to the literal and figurative edge (the same edge cats like Ricardo Ricco, Frank Vandenbrouke, José Maria Jimenez and Marco Pantani fell over) Armstrong became a hero.

Her accomplished this not by merely engaging in the same doping practices as the others (he was already an experienced  doper before he got cancer and  had never placed better than 36th at the Tour) but by procuring products like HemAssist from his hospital bed while he was being treated for cancer. Armstrong had already been working with disgraced doping doctor Michele Ferrari before he got sick.

When he recovered (a Festivus Miracle, I tell ya) he personally recruited Johan Bruyneel, a then-recently retired aging veteran cyclist who, despite the copious amounts of dope he consumed during his anonymous career (hence the nickname "The Hog") never won shit. What Bruyneel had going for him was years of experience in team-organized doping, having studied under the tutelage of Spaniard Manolo Saiz, then director sportif of the ONCE team.

Really, that's what this is about. Armstrong took his cheating to unprecedented levels, and this is what allowed him to win all those Tours. He not only cheated, he made sure his rivals had the UCI up their collective asses so he could maintain his advantage. He ratted out his opponents, had someone drive around France with refrigerated panniers full of blood bags and steroids so the team wouldn't get caught with anything in their hotel rooms, microdosed EPO on top of that, and challenged anyone to prove it.

This is why he's a hero. All that cancer advocacy crap was nothing but a self-aggrandizing ruse to promote HIMSELF so he could continue to derive an income from the sweaty balls of his unquestioning legion of fanboys, filling auditoriums and charging enormous speaking engagements so he could tell fellow cult members how absolutely awesome he is.

He's a hero because he took on the French, who were supposedly soooo jealous that a brash American was wining their race, and made a complete mockery of the Tour win record by blasting off seven in a row, a feat guaranteed never to be duplicated, steroids or not. The only rider with any chance of equaling this record was Alberto Contador, but after one DQ  for testing positive, another when his Astana team wasn't allowed to participate, and the continuation of his two-year ban which ended in August of this year, there's no way he'll ever get close. But it's Armstrong who won't get close, because his illegitimate titles will soonno longer count.

Armstrong also had advanced warnings of doping tests, took time to dilute his blood while keeping the testers waiting (a clearly illegal act), and dared anyone to call him on it. He had a doctor who, according to Tyler Hamilton in his book "The Secret Race", found a way to circumvent the new test for EPO the second it was announced. Imagine a test that took scientists years to perfect being compromised by a quack like Dr. Ferrari in about five minutes. That's what Armstrong had at his disposal. But he had more.

He had a delusional fanbase, a growing cesspool of psychotic flunkies who bent over backwards to make excuses for him and to take on all doubters on every cycling internet page. Anyone daring to question "The Myth" was duly pounced on without mercy. He made fun of Tyler Hamilton getting stripped of his Olympic road race medal via his Twitter account, congratulating then-teammate and fellow steroid abuser Viatcheslav Ekimov for moving up one place and getting the gold by default. And it continues.

But those shrill, hackneyed voices are slowly but surely being drowned out by the truth, one USADA press release at a time. Despite all of the attacks against their very existence, Travis Tygart and his team at the USADA have plowed on with the same remorselessness for the truth that Armstrong and his teabag brigade have for trying to cover it up. For those who are nitpicking about what the record books will look like during the Tours Armstrong rode, fret not. Here's the solution-

You know it, I know it, the American people know it. Now it's time for you to tell the world-

The Endgame Pt.I...

Lance Armstrong is running out of cards to play. In an article recently published by Men's Journal magazine, he unequivocally stated he was done fighting accusations that he doped to win his seven Tour de France titles. But he's got the USADA on his tail, and things have changed. They seem intent on taking him and his whole stinking crew down (three down, three to go it appears from the charging letter) and have come out with guns blazing. Here are the pertinent talking points in Armstrong's defense-

1) Armstrong filed a lawsuit (interestingly enough naming Travis Tygart by name as opposed to the organization he works for, facilitating a personal vendetta accusation) claiming they have no jurisdiction over this investigation. He contends only the UCI can launch an investigation and see it through. Federal Judge Sparks of Austin, Texas has already struck this down. He did criticize the USADA on a few key points that deal with transparency and due process, but nothing the USADA didn't have covered.

2) The USADA has countered with a suit claiming the exact opposite. No problems there, as Judge Sparks ruled in favor of the USADA.

3) The UCI did a backflip, at one point saying the USADA has jurisdiction of the matter then two days later stating the exact opposite, even going so far as to DEMAND that Travis Tygart hand over any and all evidence of the investigation so they could set up an "independent" 3-person panel to hear the evidence. They backed down from this clearly egregious stance of tampering and interference, but I doubt it will stay there.

4) The UCI released yet another statement after the above sucker move failed, saying they would not contest the USADA decision, but that they haven't received any of the evidence yet. Well, by the end of Spetember of 2012 (in one week) the dossier will be on top of "Fat" Pat McQuaid's desk for his perusal.

5) Armstrong has solicited the services of some US politicians to look into the USADA funding and oversight. Apparently, every single case they've handled up to this point was fine. Suddenly, they are overstepping their boundaries and acting as vendetta-addled high school bitches, and Armstrong MUST set them straight, when all he had to do was agree to an arbitration hearing and confront the evidence head-on.

Running out of options-

The USADA initially stated they would hand over their reasoned decision of the Armstrong case to the UCI by the end of September, but now they have pushed that date to "no later than October 15th". Further delays on the part of the USADA notwithstanding, the bullshitting should be over by then. Despite all of Armstrong's dirty backroom political tricks, he was unable to derail this train. and it's headed straight for him and right up his ass. The public will be made aware of all the evidence included in the file soon afterwards, due to the looming arbitration hearings of Johan Bruyneel and whoever else is left from the original charging letter.

Why would Johan Bruyneel decide on arbitration when he must know the evidence against him is so overwhelming that fighting the charges will just make him look (more) foolish? Well, Johan is a prick. His brain is fried from years and years of steroid abuse when he rode as a pro, and his successes as a director sportif have obviously skewed his sense of reality. Anyone arrogant enough to dare write a book with the title "We Might as Well Win" cannot be connected to the real world in a manner that would make this outcome anything but inevitable.

Feel free to add this piece of pathetic drivel alongside Armstrong's magnum opus "It's Not About The Bike". Man, if this stuff doesn't make you laugh, you have no sense of humor-

Let's put this all into the irrational perspective it deserves. Travis Tygart has revealed his office received death threats during the course of the investigation. Imagine the type of douchebag who would do such a thing. These are the assholes that represent "The Lance Armstrong Court of Public Opinion", and it looks like they will get to see their hero stripped of his facade once and for all way before the holidays. I hope the relentless Armstrong fanboys have gotten their haz-mat suits out of the cleaners, because the amount of toxic shit that's going to be revealed is going to set off nuclear reactor alarms all over the world.

Tygart did not receive, as is the common misconception, any evidence from the FDA case against Armstrong and Bruyneel's US Postal Cycling team (shuttered for political purposes, not due to lack of evidence). But many of the same witnesses were interviewed, and they held nothing back. The evidence gathered independent of the FDA has proven to be enough of a groundswell that it's difficult to imagine just what the fuck is going through this idiot Armstrong's head right about now. Here is Tygart responding to this very issue-

"The witnesses told us exactly what they had declared to FDA inspectors, and we could confirm all the evidence. That's where Armstrong's declarations regarding a personal witch hunt against him don't make any sense. This affair is much greater than the Armstrong case. W'ere talking about a real conspiracy inside US Postal, perfectly organized, with many actors involved, many of which have confessed, which will not prevent them from being suspended-moderately."-Travis Tygart

 As for Tygart going beyond the statute of limitations, another Armstrong fanboy talking point, he puts paid to that nonsense right here-

USADA, which has already banned Armstrong and stripped him of his victories since 1998, is acting beyond the wight-year statute of limitations normally applicable within the framework of the Word Anti-Doping Code. "The statute of limitations no longer applies [under American law-ed.] if the accusation can prove that, throughout all these years, the athlete who cheated influenced influenced the witnesses who could have testified against him, if he concealed proof or lied under oath. We are certain that this has happened in the Armstrong case xplain it when we transmit the dossier (to the UCI)", Tygart concluded.

Woo Hoo!!! Finally some fucking closure!!! Stay tuned, because there will be more in the coming weeks. As of now Lance baby, your goose is cooked. If I were you, I'd take your boy Tyler Hamilton's advice, 'fess the fuck up and get it over with. Like I always say, the truth is chicken soup for the soul, but only if you have one-

Film Recommendation of the Week...

In Darkness
Release Date-September 2, 2011.
Running Time-2 Hours 12 minutes. 
Polish, German, Ukrainian w/English subtitles.

Leolpold Socha was a Polish sewer maintenance worker and part-time thief who, together with fellow employee and partner-in-crime Stephan Wroblewski, saved Jews from Nazi persecution by keeping them hidden in the sewers of Lwow, Poland (after liberation became the town of Lviv in Ukraine). During the Nazi "Aktion" to clear the city of its' Jewish population, some took to the sewers.

Of the 21 Jews Socha and Wroblewski aided, 10 finally made it out alive thirteen months later. Every day was fraught with danger and the very real possibility of being caught by the Germans and Ukrainians who took an active role in the round-ups, yet these two continued throughout this ordeal to help the Jews even when they ran out of money and could no longer sustain themselves.

This film is not "Schindler's List"-far from it. It is dirty, grimy, and claustrophobic. The sewers offer no respite, and neither does the seemingly uncaring world above it. But amidst the world being turned on it's head by the National Socialist beasts from Germany, Socha and Wroblewski took incredible and incalculable risks in keeping these people alive. Unfortunately, Socha was killed shortly after the city was liberated by the Soviet Union in truck accident. But thanks to the efforts of the producers, who hail from Poland, Germany and Canada, his heroism and the heroism of all involved will never be forgotten.

The real Leolpold Socha-

Krystyna Chirowski Chigier, one of the ten survivors of the Lvov sewer-

Leopold Socha and Mudek Margulies, another of the ten survivors-

The Polish actor who plays Socha (Robert Wieckiewicz) does so with a gritty determination and incredible range that I'd be shocked if he didn't win this year's Oscar for best male actor in a foreign film. Yes, the character he protrays is no angel-he is a thief and was initially paid for aiding the Jews. But when their money ran out, he continued to risk his life. The barrier finally comes down during the day of his daughter's communion, the most intense scene of the whole film.

Absolutely the best film I've seen in quite a long time.

Major League Baseball's PED Asscapades Pt. I...

Melky Cabrera, Dominican-born major league baseball player for the San Francisco Giants, received a 50-game suspension for testing positive for steroids. MLB, who have the most lax steroids testing program this side of the former Eastern Bloc, has busted yet another Dominican player. But he wasn't going down without a fight, so to speak, if you can call what transpired next "fighting". He and his crack team of enablers set up a fictitious website that sold a sports ointment in the Dominican Republic that contained testosterone. In an attempt to blame for the cause of his positive doping test. Except the scam didn't work, and now Cabrera has MLB investigators and Jeff Novitzky on his ass.

The fake website was purchased for $10,000 juevos by a paid associate of Cabrera's named Juan Nuñez. The purpose of this ill-conceived and poorly executed scam was to evade a suspension by claiming the positive test was the result of the inadvertent use of a tainted cream.

The MLB Collective Bargaining Agreement allows for such a circumstance when determining suspensions, but Cabrera was a little too slick for himself, and the scheme unraveled faster than you can say HgH.Initially, Cabrera seemed to take his suspension well and came off as not as full of shit as other busted ball players (like Asshat Ryan Braun, who got off on a technicality but has still refused to come clean about his steroid use). Here is his statement to the press-

"My positive test was the result of my use of a substance I should not have used. I accept my suspension under the Joint Drug Program and I will try to move on with my life. I am deeply sorry for my mistake and I apologize to my teammates, to the San Francisco Giants organization and to the fans for letting them down."

That seemed alright. He would serve his time and that would be the end of that. No, it wasn't...

Juan Nuñez is one of a long line of anonymous Dominican hustlers who attach themselves to famous Dominican ball players like a barnacle. But he's not the only slickster in this sordid affair. Cabrera is represented by Sam and Seth Levinson. Their company is called-how's this for some cynically ironic shit-ACES, which stands for Athletes Career and Enhanced, Inc.

Nuñez is a paid consultant of this company, but  the Levinsons claim  he is NOT an official employee of their agency. Nuñez acts in the unofficial capacity of "handler", aiding in communication between Spanish speaking players and the agency. The Levinsons claim no knowledge of the shenanigans Nuñez was up to, despite the fact the whole sordid affair reeks of collusion. Here is a quote from the NY Daily News-

“What they did was they bought an existing Spanish language website that sold health products — actually, they bought three websites,” said a source familiar with the case. “They just stuck a banner up on it. It had a product ad and a picture of the jar. It was all in Spanish.”

After this nonsense came to light, nobody knew anybody or anything. It's smart for the Levinsons to let a peripheral character like Nuñez take the rap for this shit, just like A-Rod did to his cousin when word got out about his steroid use. But don't think Nuñez wasn't handsomely paid for his voluntary acquiescence. For his efforts Nuñez has been banned from all major league clubhouses.

As for enablers, we have the mysterious Dominican shaman Angel Presinal, who "trains", among other Dominican MLB players, Bartolo Colón, who is listed at 5'11" and a conservative 265 pounds and was also recently busted and handed a 50-game suspension without pay. As an off-season publicity stunt, Colón was set to wrestle Abdullah the Butcher at an all-you-can-eat Texas barbecue, but went over the minimum wiehgt requirement set in the contract. Imagine being too fat to wrestle "the Madman from the Sudan". Fuckin' A...

Wherever he goes, Colón's always large and in charge-

You don't have to go to Taco Bell to get a Gordita-just sign Colón and you're all set!!!

Whenever a trainer comes recommended with the mythical "guru" tag, you know something's going on. Herein lies the issue-the United States has some of the most advanced sports medicine procedures in the world, yet Presinal, this bloated little weeble from a third world country renown for it's corruption, who has no formal medical training whatsoever is somehow a savant in the field of injury recovery. Yet no one can explain what he does or how he does it. And his clients keep his workouts a complete mystery from the rest of the world.

Here is Presinal with Colón, working out in the Dominican Republic-

Presinal was caught in a Canadian airport with a bag full of steroids while traveling with ex-MLB player Juan Gonzalez. For this stunt he's been banned from major league clubhouses, but that hasn't stopped his loyal clientele from utilizing his services. But soemtimes his conditioning program runs into the proverbial brick wall. His client Bartolo Colón is so out of shape he pulled a hamstring running from the pitcher's mound to cover a play at first base while playing for the Yankees and was sidelined for weeks.

Colón also underwent a controversial stem cell treatment in Miami because his fat arm was fried from lifting too many beers up to his fat fucking face. And now at age 39, he's suspended for the rest of the year and may not get a contract for next year.

Wanna smell like a fat, washed-up ballplayer on steroids? Then THIS is the fragrance for YOU!!!

Film Recommendation of the Week...

BBC- Death Camp Treblinka: Survivor Stories
Release Date-August 15, 2012.
Running Time-1 Hour.

This sobering documentary tells the story of Samuel Willenberg and Kalman Teigman, the last two remaining survivors of the Nazi death camp called Treblinka. From July 1942 until October 1943, about 875,000 people were murdered in a forest clearing no bigger than 400 by 600 meters in the small Polish town of Treblinka, 100 kilometers northeast of Warsaw. The majority of the victims were Jews but the Nazis also deported Romani Gypsies to this hell hole as well.

The the total number of victims will never be known with any accuracy. But this film isn't about the staggering number of victims-it's about two men who've surely outlived the perpetrators who worked at the camp as guards or administrators.

The exact number of victims is but one of the many mysteries of this camp. There weren't meant to be any survivors of course, but about 300 escaped during a prisoner revolt in late 1943, and about 65 to 70 lived to see the end of the war. Willenberg and Teigman were among this group. They worked in Camp I, where their jobs were to sort out the clothing and other worldly belongings of the victims after they've been made to undress and leave everything behind. Willenberg also worked as a barber, whose duty was to cut the hair of the victims before entering the gas chambers.

Samuel Willenberg-

Kalman Teigman-

Fortunately, neither had the ghastly privilege of working in Camp II, where the gas chambers were located and where Jews in this particular work detail were made to dispose of the bodies. The macabre efficiency that developed at Auschwitz was not utilized in Treblinka. The victims were suffocated not with the infamous Zyklon B insecticide but with exhaust fumes from a soviet tank engine in tiny rooms where anywhere from 4-600 poor souls were crammed. The bodies were not burned in crematoria but unceremoniously chucked into ditches and buried in mass graves.

That is until the Nazis realized they were losing the war. Once the Russians began their inevitable headlong march westward (No Sleep 'til Berlin!!!), the National Socialist hierarchy realized they needed to destroy the evidence of their monstrous crimes. So Heinrich Himmler gave the command to the camp commandants to dig the bodies up and burn them.

The original railway sign to the camp, now on exhibit at the Yad Vashem Museum in Israel- 

The slave laborers in Treblinka realized after they were done with this dreadful task they too would be murdered, so a plot was hatched to escape. These two men faced the worst odds imaginable in the history of mankind to survive a death camp revolt, a 100-meter dash through a field covered in land mines while being shot at with sub-machine guns by drunken Ukrainian guards, and into the forest where antisemitic partisans roamed the wilderness just waiting for hapless motherfuckers like this to fall into their laps so they could rob and kill them.

But unimaginable odds were defied, and the last two prisoners to live and tell about Treblinka are presented here in this fascinating documentary. Unfortunately, Teigman passed away on July 26, 2012. A prayer for this brave and wonderful man who, like Willenberg, fought against incredible odds, survived this despicable death camp, made a new life for himself, had a family and lived to a ripe old age.

*For you history buffs, the biggest mystery (at least to me) of this camp was the fate of Ivan Marchenko. Nicknamed "Ivan the Terrible", he was a Ukrainain guard who operated the tank engines and along with a sidekick, escorted the Jews into the gas chambers with unimaginable cruelty.

Ivan Demjanjuk, a retired auto worker from Ohio, was deported from the United States for lying about his whereabouts and activities during World War II. He was put on trial in Israel, accused of being "Ivan the Terrible" of Treblinka. Turns out this man may or may not have been Ivan the terrible of Treblinka lore, but as Harvard lawyer Alan Dershowitz stated during a televised interview, he certainly was Ivan the very, very, very, very bad.

Ivan Demjanjuk's Trawniki identification card-a possible forgery?

Identification cards show Demjanjuk probably was a camp guard, but more than likely at Sobibor and not Treblinka. Even his identification card from the Trawniki training camp is under scrutiny as possibly being a Soviet forgery. After receiving a death sentence, it was overruled on appeal due to lack of credible evidence.

The actual whereabouts of Ivan Marchenko is unknown. He was allegedly seen sometime after the war waltzing out of a Croatian whorehouse. We'll probably never know for sure, but this evil man was in Treblinka every day, operating the murder apparatus that sent hundreds of thousands of innocent souls to their death. Someone out there must know something. Unfortunately, time if running out and the information is more than likely buried alongside all the other secrets these perpetrators took with them to their graves.

The last vestiges of the camp outer fence before dismantling was complete-

"Motoman" Exposed...

The infamous "Motoman" described in Tyler Hamilton's book, the man accused of having provided logistics for US Postal's doping program in 1999 and 2000 (and probably beyond) by riding around on a motorcycle with refrigerated panniers and delivering steroids and blood bags to the team at various hotels while following the Tour de France, has been exposed.

He is Philippe Maire, owner of the Stars'n'Stripes bike shop in Nice, France. He carries Trek, Livestrong, Oakley and Giro, for those who find themselves in France with a desperate need to kit yourselves out in the latest Lance Armstrong regalia and will not stand for second-best.

Here he is with Lance Armstrong in a photo on Philippe's Facebook page with the caption that reads "Good Job!!!"

Here is more information from Daniel Coyle on the existence of this shady and mysterious character (excerpt taken from "The Secret Race")-

Here is Philippe earlier this Spring riding around with Sean Yates, director sportif of Sky-

And here they are in front of the ol' Stars'n'Stripes bike shop-

But that's not all, folks!!! Here are some Radioshack riders hanging tough with homeboy. Starting to see the connection?

Jens Voight, Philippe and Frank Schleck-

We don't need to be rocket scientists to put two and two together. Let the apologists rant and rave and say this isn't "proof" on anything. In and of itself it isn't. But someone with half a brain please explain to me how this guy, who started off as Armstrong's gardener when he lived in Nice, France, ends up with a high-end cycle shop and affiliations with the top cyclists and cycling teams in Europe. From humble beginnings to this? That story is about as incredulous as someone surviving cancer and going on to win seven Tours in a row, because certainly that happens all the fucking time.

Yes, again this isn't "proof" of anything. But what we have here are some relationships worthy of further scrutiny by the authorities, especially given the damning testimony given by Tyler Hamilton in his book about this character. That much is merited by the looks of things. So before anyone sends me messages about "guilty until proven innocent" and blah blah blah, I hope the French authorities take action and at the very least take this schmuck in for questioning. He has some explaining to do.