BRO has been off the radar even more so than usual in the past couple of weeks, I know. Broke the collarbone again last week, which now brings the total to 5 times and twice in the last 3 months. But that’s the cost of being a rugged maniac sometimes. Anyway, this is the trailer to DBK’s new full-length video set to drop this summer. It’s a welcome call back to the motocross videos of the 90s where guys rode their dirt bikes for fun and not to be battle-hardened robot lizards. So watch it, enjoy the tunes and the riding, and then go ride your dirt bike. If you don’t have a dirt bike, get off of this website and don’t come back until you do.
We’re doing one of these again. These are all to be read for people who are not pro, by the way. If you’re getting paid to run shit, run whatever the fuck those deep corporate pockets want you to run. C.R.E.A.M.
Major Energy Drinks
Red Bull, Monster, or Rockstar. You run their shit because you want to feel like you are a part of something. Remarkably insecure, it gives you comfort in feeling like you are in with Villo, or Roczen, or Anderson, just because you are supporting the same shit that they do (which they obviously only do because they get paid to). It just all feeds into your desperate, desperate need to matter, in any way.
Non-Major Energy Drinks
If you run an energy drink sticker that is not one of the main 3, you probably either own the company or know someone who owns the company. You or that person are probably super ambitious, but live in a fucking fantasy world, where grit and determination can get you ahead of the major international brands in a category as generic as goddamn energy drinks (it can’t). You or your friend have a true passion for the American dream, and make wildly emotional decisions, based on the typical “get rich quick” mantra. If you support them, then that’s not really a big deal; you just don’t have the heart to tell them their shitass no-name company is the “Jump To Conclusions” board of the real world.
You follow the sport, and know enough to establish yourself as one of the “insiders”, even if you actually are not. DBK, Deft, FMF, or other rider-owned brands keep it real, so by supporting them, you keep it real, or at least that’s what you’re going for. It’s all in the effort of making yourself look like you might know what you’re doing. Regardless of whether you do or not, you’re observant enough to know what works toward that goal. You might be cool and know how to ride, or you might be a hipster. Further evidence is needed.
Your Hook-It Sponsors
Your sponsors gave you 15% off, so you have to show them love, even though they probably made you pay for the stickers you’re running for them. You abide by your “contract” to the letter, and the fact that no one at that company even knows you exist and never will does not cross your mind. You, also, have a desperate need to matter, Mr. Hook-It Hero.
First things first: If you aren’t doing this ironically, you’re slow as fuck. Done deal, no question about it. You ride the C-class and there’s a 40% chance that you have cut fenders, too. You laugh at the dumbest shit ever, and can only sit through a movie if there are tits and/or farts every 15 minutes. Everyone you know either is exactly like you or makes fun of you behind your back.
You are a whore. You will take anything for free, and put it on full display for the whole world to see. Nothing is too lame, or too out there, to go on your truck, bike, or helmet. A Confederate flag next to a NAACP bumper sticker works just fine for you, as long as you got it for free. You have a price for anything, and I mean anything, be it monetary or not.
So it’s April Fool’s Day, but amidst all the bullshit and idiots believing that bullshit on the internet today (if you seriously believed the 2015 Honda two-stroke thing, just stop reading and grab your coloring book before you hurt yourself), it actually seems that the Alessi and MotoConcepts to Canada thing is true. That rumor has actually been flying around for a while now.
I just read Racer X’s reaction piece on this tasty bit of news, and I felt like I had to throw in my two cents because I am important and people should know what I think about things. I think it’s all pretty simple (and this is why I legitimately believe this is true and not an April Fool’s hoax): Mike Alessi needs to win and it doesn’t happen for him in America. Saying he’s addicted to winning makes him sound cooler than I am trying to imply here, but that’s basically the gist. He doesn’t win shit anymore, even though he won everything as an amateur. It’s the same reason that he cried at the A1 heat race, and it’s the same reason that he raced a shitload of amateur races after the season was over last year. The fact is that he’s not going to win in America, even outdoors, if the top guys are all in there. This has absolutely NOTHING to do with money or sponsorship, the way many people are being tricked into justifying it. In fact, probably one of the purest things about the Alessis is that they don’t really care about money; they are at the races to win and that’s it. Genova works for Tony and writes the checks, and Tony sold him on the Canada idea so Mike could stand a shot at winning races (although I still think Metcalfe will probably beat him and then there will be an entire new set of self-esteem issues to go over in therapy if he doesn’t win a championship in Canada, a.k.a. America Lite).
Personally, I think it’s fine. Enough riders bitch about the Nationals here that seeing some top 10 riders leave might actually get people to start thinking a little more about what to change in the US. Alessi, Metty, Chisholm, Politelli, and Izzi are all going up north, where the bikes run on maple syrup and every backwoods country girl is naive enough to say “yes”, every fucking time. Trying to go for a rip there, bud?
I know I’m a little late on posting this. It’s existed for 4 days, but it’s the talk of the town if you talk about people getting wrecked for your amusement. I still can’t really figure out what happened. Dude probably got arm pump and it was just out of his hands, the bike decided that it was launching that berm and there was nothing Out Of Shape Joey could do about it.
Easily the best part is the guy at the end in the red and white Shoei giving the thumbs up to ask if everything’s ok. Um dude, did you not just see that guy get eaten alive by a fucking oak tree? No, he’s not alright, dipshit.
5 seconds into this video, I knew I had found my calling in life. The thrill of riding a dirtbike combined with the majesty and grace of rhythmic gymnastics or rollerblading or some other stupid shit like that. Being completely serious though, I will bet this is some of the most fun you can possibly have with your pants on. That guy in goddamn Uruguay or whatever bumfuck country he’s from is loving life and absolutely shitting on all of us in America living in the rat race and not spending our days on dirtbike swings. His dirtbike swing game is off the charts, too. I’m pretty sure that is the Carmichael of dirtbike swingers. Makes it look so easy, like the greats always do.
Thanks Deven for the tip on the vid.
From Craigslist – OK, let me start off by saying this CR500af is only available for purchase by the manliest of men (or women).
If you wear white framed sun glasses or jeans with fancy pockets. . .get lost.
If you’re a spode that likes to ride down grass filled ditches in shorts and flip flops… don’t waste my time.
If your greatest talent is doing 3-foot long pop wheelies in front of your hillbilly friends in your cousin’s back yard while everyone drinks Budweiser…forget it!
If you rock out to Taylor Swift or Justin Beiber…Nope!
This is a 08 CRF450R chassis with a CR500 two stroke motor installed.
This Motorcycle was engineered by American warriors on the plains of the Midwest to serve the needs of the men, or women, that cheat death on a daily basis. They didn’t even consider superfluous Nancy boy, contradictory decor in the form of Monster, Red Bull, Spy, Oakley, FMF, and Pro Circuit stickers plastered all over the bike. This bike looks legit because it is. If you want that extra crap go pay three times as much and buy a new CRF450R or a SH.
This brute comes with the things us testosterone-fueled super action junkies need. It has a 500cc two stroke engine with a KX500 Carb and FMF exhaust to outrun the bandito’s on your Baja adventure. It has a tall special blood/gore resistant seat and tall pegs, so if you’re being chased by terrorists, you’ll still be able to shoot your AR15 and ride at the same time. Why’s it got only one seat?” you ask. “How am I supposed to get action?” Child, listen. No one gets tail while on the bike. I know. I’ve tried. And, despite my extraordinary flexibility, exceptional agility and size 29 shoe size…the mechanics just don’t work.
Why am I selling it you ask?
Cause being alive rules, and I’m far too gnarly of a dude to keep this motorcycle. When I see a golf course, an interstate ramp, or 120ft Quad, I wanna hit them 5th gear pinned, and whip or back flip so hard it makes Travis Pastrana cry like a school girl! Hey I’ve experienced life. Now it’s your turn!
My price on this bad boy is an incredibly low $5200.00, but I’ll entertain reasonable offers. And by reasonable, I mean don’t walk up and tell me you’ll give me $500 for it. I will knock out what teeth you have left.
There’s only 7hrs on this two-wheeled beast. Trust me, it will outlive you and the offspring that will carry your name. It will live on as a monument to your machismo.
Now, go look in the mirror and tell me what you see. Is it a rugged, no holds barred, super brute he-man macho Chuck Norris stunt double? You realize that once you claim this rig, you become a super chic magnet. Hotties within seven time zones will be ensnared by its gravitational pull.
If this is your future, then contact me.
I might be out killing big game in Africa with my bare hands, or gambling in Morocco, but I’ll get back to you.
And when I do, we can talk about a price over a bottle of Jack!
Pay Pal and sales help beware!
And no i don’t take personal checks from third world countries!
Sir, there is no amount of money on this Earth that I would call an unreasonable sum for that motorcycle. If this thing isn’t sold before you reach this part of the post, something is wrong with the world.
Thanks to BRO reader Ryan for the tip.
Boom. Absolute banger video. Had everything. Battle music? Check. Slow motion puddle wheelies? Check. 1998 KX250 swagged out to the moon? Check. Like how much money would be an inappropriately large amount? Because that’s what I’m prepared to offer. Here’s a blank check, just get these guys on the track. Dildo Racing Team for days. DRT, bitches.
The description for this video might be better than the actual video: “La Dildo Racing Team Acrobatic Warfare si cimenta nella nobile arte del motocross [The Dildo Racing Acrobatic Warfare Team engages in the noble art of motocross]. These stunts are performed by professionals. Don’t try them at home. No beaver was harmed in the making of this video.”
The Dildo Racing Acrobatic Warfare Team on their way to steal your bitch.
They say it’s those of us with voices in our heads that are crazy. Quite the opposite, I declare. Those with no voices in their heads should have the straps of their straight jacket yanked tight, and left to mindlessly wander the white halls of the funny farm. The truth is, most people do have voices in their head, voices they hear in a time like this, suiting up at the track; a time in which the voice of regret echoes, bellowing off the walls inside your already pounding head, “I should’ve stayed in last night.”
Beads of sweat begin to form across your body as you start to suit up. The sun’s rays beam down, cooking your pale and colorless skin, feeling as if they’re more ultraviolet-y than normal. The scent of toxins ingested the night before now oozing from your skin, causing your stomach to churn. As you slip on your gloves, you notice multiple bar stamps still smeared on the back of your hand. It is the all-decisive evidence that a wild night out with the boys was had, and with that, a hangover seemingly delivered to you from Satan himself. You went hard last night. Really hard. Too hard for most people that even considered regaining consciousness the next day (or same day, because let’s face it, you’re not sleeping until bar close + two hours). Although most reading this may never experience such a situation, this is just another Saturday and Sunday morning for you. That’s right, I’m talking to you, Hangover Riders. You swing your leg over your trusty steed, questionably still drunk from the night before. You flip your kickstarter out, and with a quick stomp you’re revving that sucker to the moon.
Let this be a salute to the Hangover Riders, as these are my people. Although looked down upon in the current state of our sport, Hangover Riders strive to do the same thing as anyone else at the track: have a good time. They just do it differently, and are shunned for being different, because crazy, uptight people hate anyone that’s different. Instead of playing board games, giving fucks, and wondering what a vagina feels like, Hangover Riders choose to pound enough beer to kill a Clydesdale horse with their BROs, blast some Punk Rock, and get in where they fit in with some random (hopefully) hotties from the local watering hole in the wee hours of the morning. The term “plenty of sleep” is absolutely nonexistent in the Hangover Rider’s vocabulary. They will show up to the track on two hours of sleep, rip every jump on the first lap, and pass you right in front of your girl. Panties = Saturated. Good night.
That’s all part of the Hangover Rider program. Even if you pass them, at least they have an excuse, and are still seen as more savage than you. What were you doing at 3 AM this morning, BRO? Sleeping? Pussy.
By no means is this lifestyle for everyone. In fact, you probably shouldn’t do any of this. Hangover Riders fully realize they’re a bad influence. They just don’t care.
At the end of the day, they’re always going to have better stories to tell than you. And who knows? You might actually learn a thing or two. Just don’t forget the post-moto brews…
Holeshot: It’s Mike Alessi. I don’t know if you guys heard, but he took out Tickle and should die, according to the Internet. The Internet is always right.
Lap 1: Villo got iced from 2nd to 5th in that one almost-lap. If I didn’t already know what happened in this race, I’d be excited.
Lap 2: Dude, James has got this one! 2nd place and only Alessi in front of him? Three in a row, bitch! JS7! JS7! JS…Annnnnd he’s down.
Lap 3: Watching the replay of James’ crash right now. You can almost see it. Dynamite coverage, FOX Sports. Just dynamite.
Lap 4: Alessi’s actually still leading. It’s lap 4 of 20. Baked.
Ralph Quote of the Race: “The last time Mike Alessi led a Monster Energy main event for the Supercross class of the 450s was…” Dude, did you just have a stroke?
Lap 5: Roczen grabs too much 450 out of the turn before the finish and Villo snags the spot.
Lap 6: Villo and Roczen around Alessi like he’s riding a lead frame coated in gravity enhancer. That’s a thing, right?
Lap 7: Dungey around Alessi. Shocker.
Lap 9: “Whoop pad”. I thought those days were behind us, Ralph. Whoop Section. It’s only one more syllable, boss.
Lap 10: I’m 90% sure that Alessi 100% let Hahn by. If not, he just took the most obviously-horrible outside line on the track, while running 4th in a fucking main event.
Lap 11: Brayton around Alessi, who has had by far the most coverage in this race, “dropping like a rock” as Fro put it.
Lap 15: Roczen gets by Villopoto is exactly the same way Villopoto got by Roczen, on the triple this time. It would have been Villo’s 3rd win, but he lost it on the triple. #Illuminati
Laps 16-20: Roczen leading. Poto all over him. Can Poto make the pass? Nope, Poto cannot make the pass. Checkers fly, and now it’s the weekend. Beer.
This is one of those times where I feel like I have a responsibility to open my mouth simply because I know that a lot of the people that read my shit are assholes. I feel like I’m kind of the king Alessi-hater, even though I don’t really hate him; I just hate the way he and his dad represent themselves and this sport. Mike as a person is just fine. I know some of you might be reading this and saying “Well what right do you have to criticize how they go about doing things?” This is America, dipshit. I am literally granted that right by the Constitution. But that is neither here nor there.
Mike has been taking a lot of heat for the Tickle incident on Saturday, and I’ve already made my opinion clear on that and sent my heat, accordingly. I’m talking to the people in the screenshots above and anyone making similar comments: You are the scum of the earth. You are the reason that there are long lines at airport security (or even that airport security exists at all), and the reason that some kids cannot get into school without walking through a metal detector. Everyone who is not saying such horrible garbage is a higher form of humanity than you, and would progress the welfare of the human race far more efficiently without you. Your criticism is as far from constructive as it could possibly be, although I am 100% sure that you don’t possess the brain power and empathetic qualities to understand what constructive criticism is. I say stuff to be funny, all in the name of comedy and satire. It’s all just “talking shit”, if you will. There is no humor in your merciless hatred. Like, are you people actually trying to be funny? Because it wasn’t, at all. You are horrible at being funny, kind of like you’re horrible at most things. This is what happens when people who suck try at things. I still don’t like Alessi, but he is 1000 times better than you people.