Here's a fun game: Count all the Rockstar logos. Now count every single other logo. It's a close one.
Amazingly, motocross is getting bigger, but the riders are making less. Let me just do the math there…yes, just as I suspected, it comes out to bullshit. Moto, like most everything else, is being run by huge companies that put on this facade of being core. Monster is not core. They never have been and never will be. Basically a general rule of thumb is that if a brand’s products are distributed in a gas station, they are probably not legit moto companies. I suppose FMF is in a few different convenience stores in Cali, but that whole energy drink thing is a huge step in the wrong direction for them, if you ask me.
But don’t think I am saying that I want Monster and Rockstar and Red Bull to leave the industry right now, because I am not, and I don’t. We would be epically fucked. But the fact that we would be epically fucked in such a scenario is epically fucked. Moto needs to be weened off the energy drinks like it is in a methadone clinic. But the money has to come from somewhere, so where? You need to support the core of the sport, BROs – companies that started out in moto and do not see it as the hot, new thing, because if and when it is not the hot, new thing, those brands will all be out like Perez Hilton the day he got a boner watching the volleyball scene in Top Gun.
Riders need to support companies that have a vested interest in motocross and not the share price. If the sport ended tomorrow, who would be screwed? Those are the brands to get behind. Stop buying clothing that is co-branded with Rockstar and Monster, even if it is a core brand in the first place. First of all, you look like an asshole. All the pros wear that shit because they get paid to. You just dropped $39.99 for that fucking hat, just to let everyone know that you got out of first gear one time. Just buy bikes, buy videos, buy gear from companies that don’t worry about the stockholders, and save the N.O.G. drinks for the mallrats.
Bark Busters like a boss
So I got the report the other day that Jason Lawrence was racing a hare scramble in Jersey and totally murdering everyone. Obviously I was psyched on the news and had to tweet it to the world. What I got back was pretty fucking appalling to say the least. A bombardment of joes coming in with “Who’s J-law?” and various drug reference comments. Are you people fucking kidding me? This is Jason Lawrence, the kid who partied all night before the Daytona Supercross and then led almost the whole race. A fucking legend. Would he have won if he had not been out all night? Perhaps, but that is beside the point entirely. J-law was one of the last of a dying breed: the guys who seriously could not give a fuck what you thought about them; he is a dude who would rather headbutt a studded tire than behave in a manner that was “safer” or “more consumer friendly”. Go ahead and not like him, that is totally fine, but to ignore what he did in the game is basically the same thing as beating up black people for trying to use your drinking fountain. I’ll bet you all try to ignore Martin Luther King because he died. Yeah, real nice. Commies.
Jason Lawrence is the guy who bit some other BRO’s ear off, and people still rooted for him. He said “Fuck” on the mic while on the podium, and people still rooted for him. He went to jail and became a skinhead, and people still rooted for him. Then he quit the pro game, and people wanted him back. So they could root for him. You can call him stupid, but the dude left his mark on this sport with only one championship. We did not like J-law because he did all that dumb shit – we liked him because he did all that dumb shit and could still ride better than almost everyone in the world. Sure, you can disagree with how he carried himself, but if you seriously don’t respect his ability to ride and his downright heroic ability to keep it real, then get fucked. You are one or both of two things: Some old guy whose family is just waiting for him to die, or a little bitch who washes his hands way too often. Either way, take a page out of J-law’s book and get out. He’s not coming back, but it does not matter. Game changer.
If you missed the 450 LCQ at Dallas, then you are an idiot because that race is the best one to watch 9 times out of 10. It is just the perfect combination of boldness and desperation, like last call at the bar on the corner of sadness and alcoholism. Everyone is just pulling out Hail Marys left and right, trying to get their fuck on. It is that time of the night when BROs basically just Kurt Russell that shit and say “Well, see you on the other side,” and all bets are off from there.
As usual, the 450 LCQ at D-town ended with some radical shit. Gavin Faith, fresh off his stint on the GEICO bike, and on the 450 ripper taking motherfuckers out and fully not giving a fuck in the whoops. It worked out when he gained about three bike lengths on Peick going into the last turn like a boss, only to lose out on the spot by .002 seconds. But what do we know about the AMA? It is filled with BROs. They saw that shit and decided “Um, no, that kid just put his own safety on the back burner to make the main, he is making the fucking main.” Like, his chances of getting whiskey throttle and shooting over the berm after the whoops in a Windham transfer gone awry were probably in the high 40% range. But hey BRO, you’ve got to want it. Feld wants that kid in the main because there is a solid chance that he will pinball his life away trying to do the damn thing and either do well or get sent into the stands. Win-win. So, AMA saw that shit and said “Yeah, turns out we actually score from the bottom of the jump just for this race, so Faith is in.” Peick was bullshit, but such is life in the 450 LCQ – success comes to those who have health insurance.
First things first, BROs: there is no need to panic. You need not take a hot tub session with the toaster, nor do you need to flee for the border. We are not OJ, we have the power to think this one through. And the solution does not require draining infants for their untainted blood or daily cleanse regiments that consist of downing a gallon of Draino and hoping that your insides are of a similar consistency to that of a lead pipe.
We all know that the best way to beat a drug test is to be clean. But let’s be real, there is no feasible reality where that is going to happen. Drugs are awesome. You know it, I know it, and Whitney Houston knows it. Or knew it. Anyway, let’s get down to brass tax here: What are the best ways to cheat on a drug test? We know that riders have to report where they are every day of the year. One can easily buy time by saying they are in New Guinea and chalk it up to a SIRI error. That bitch always fucks up. You just bought yourself a couple of days and the WADA dudes got a trip to the South Pacific out of the deal. There is also something to be said for finishing outside the top 3. Let’s be real, the FIM BROs do not give a fuck about the dude in 6th. He could be roided to the moon and brushing his false with coke every night and they could care less. So, if you are a top 3 guy, finishing 6th is a pretty easy accomplishment, especially if you are taking more drugs than a non-organic farm steer. Sure, it’s a pay cut, but you are putting in significantly less effort, which could lead to a prolonged career. As far as the big picture, you could actually be coming out ahead, like a champ.
The WADA-Flocka Flame crew generally sticks to urine tests, which means the door is wide open. In times like these, nothing beats clean urine. Expect rates to skyrocket. I hope you have a good piss guy. But just the mellow yellow is not enough, since the WADA BROs basically stand there and take pictures to look at later (and maybe call you while doing it) while you are doing your business. That’s where the fake dick comes in. Fear not, it is very affordable. The key to remember is to match skin tone; you don’t want to be unzipping some Mandingo looking number unless you are James, who could probably pull it off. But we have to consider size here, as well. This is no time to be proud. A guy who stands a towering 5’7″ whipping out a soft 10 incher is going to raise some eyebrows, something you certainly want to avoid. Just don’t be cocky about it, pun absolutely intended. A standard dangle will do you just fine.