This is fairly new territory for RTS. We have one rider who is basically a heavy hitter on the Am scene and on the precipice of factory pro status (well, factory support at least), and one rider who is a complete unknown. I say he’s a complete unknown because I haven’t heard of him, and trust me, I’ve heard of everybody. Of course, since BRO has a clout unmatched by anyone else in the industry, I’m taking this kid from Canadian obscurity right into super stardom.
Both of these shred magicians were B riders this year and if that makes you feel bad, don’t worry. The way this sport works, if you are a legitimate B rider, be prepared to get murdered by about a thousand kids at an Am Nat that could probably top 20 in the outdoors. I mean, just look at those scrubs – style for days with an attitude to match. Just from the photo I can tell that Dylan Wright slays honeys in the backdoor then makes them ride their bicycle home afterward, like a fucking boss.
It has been too long since I’ve shit on the mainstream of society for being different than me. I mean, what the hell are they even thinking? As an MX racer, we have all had to deal with these types of people at parties, functions, and basically any social gathering. When you were a kid, you loved telling people you raced moto. You thought it made you cool and made girls want to hold your hand. But most of us quickly realized to keep that bit of info in the dark, since revealing it usually means having to give a lesson on one or all of these points, and I’m usually way too loaded to possess that kind of focus and patience. Let’s take a look:
The difference between moto and FMX
No bitch, not like that.
#1 response you’ll get from some clueless bimbo after she finds out that you ride: “Oh, so like that stuff in X-Games? lol” Jesus Christ, no. Not like that. Nothing against FMX, it’s just not what I do. Then it becomes some horrible conversation about the fact that I can’t do any tricks, and now the bitch thinks I am a complete joe because the last time I tried a heelclicker, I rocked my dome so hard I thought I was in Tibet shooting the shit with the Dalai Lama.
There isn’t really a powerband
Now available in brown!!
Oh, the powerband. What sadistic asshole even came up with that term? I’m almost positive it was Hitler. I’ll never forget the first time someone asked me if my bike had a powerband: I was 9 years old, KX60 years, and a grown man asked me that. Keep in mind that I wasn’t even fully aware of how to properly chew my food at this point in my life, yet I still looked at this guy and said “Are you fucking kidding me, BRO?” Never again, just walk away.
A 450 isn’t twice as big as a 250
Old school 450 rippaaa
This one most commonly comes from the worst type of mainstreamer: That guy who actually has one piece of moto knowledge; that piece generally being that he knows enough to “name drop” the term 250. But it all goes to shit when you explain that you race a 450. Like, their mind is blown. “A 450?! That’s, like, 200 more than 250.” Hang on a sec…just checking your math there, chief. Yep, I got the same thing. In their head, they are picturing this incredible mass of aluminum on wheels the size of monster trucks with an engine that looks like it came straight from Optimus Prime’s ribcage. No BRO, no. That is not quite the case…
The bike isn’t street legal
Why? Because I don't race an XR650, asshole
Seriously BRO, just fuck off.
I don’t fucking know how fast I’m going out there
I may have touched on this point once or twice in previous blogs but it deserves repeating. Listen up, world, we don’t fucking know how fast we are going, and asking me to guess is like asking a retarded dolphin to play the clarinet. How fast do I think I’m going? Well it sure feels like 120mph, so I’m going with that.
It’s not “motorcross”
I'm sure you do, Grand Cyclops
Adding an “r” in this instance is about the same as pronouncing the “r” at the end of the n-word: It makes you a terrible person. It makes you the type of person who probably burns puppies to power your heroin factory, even though everyone knows that burning puppies are less energy efficient.
Not This: Motocross isn’t easy
I’m adding this one in right here because it’s time to stop trying to explain this. People don’t get it, and who the fuck cares? They suck. They play ultimate frisbee and go to Dave Matthews Band concerts. So why do you care about communicating the difficulty of your sport to them? Moreover, who even cares if it’s difficult? We race because it’s fun. If I liked things because they were difficult, I’d have kept trying to solve that Rubik’s Cube that is now in a million pieces on I-95.
I think it’s about that time. Motocross Des Nations (core BROs say “Des”, even though it’s not American. There’s exceptions for every rule.) qualifying kicks off tomorrow, and since I’m not a weekend blogger, I will talk some shit right now. I love MXdN, I really do. I think I seriously get more amped up to watch this race than any other. There’s something to be said for simply kicking back and watching America be better than everyone else. To get everyone up to speed, I’ll do a quick breakdown of the contenders:
The Juggernaut
USA
MX1 – Ryan Dungey
MX2 – Blake Baggett
MX3 – Justin Barcia
I use the term “contenders” pretty loosely with pretty much every team on this list, but if anyone is going to threaten the US besides a meteor strike or a volcano, it’s France. As with every team that is a legitimate contender, they have a rider who is full-time USA now, even buys Bud Heavies and may or may not have a gun collection. Luckily, France is usually too busy surrendering to win anything.
United Kingdom
MX1 – Tommy Searle
MX2 – Jake Nicholls
MX3 – Max Anstie
I actually initially wrote this one incorrectly, then went to like 3 different sites to make sure the info was correct. Anstie riding MX3? He’s one of those kids that I could never picture riding a 450, ever. He’s like Frankie Muniz or something – no matter what, he’s always going to be a little kid. But he’s also a ginger, and those slippery motherfuckers can never be trusted. Regardless, it’s going to take a lot more photos of Kate Middleton’s tits to faze the US.
Italy
MX1 – Antonio Cairoli
MX2 – Alessandro Lupino
MX3 – David Guarneri
Euros never shut up about how Cairoli is going to show us what’s up, and it never happens. It’s always the same – coming in, all the Euros are saying that there is no way the leading US guy can beat Cairoli, and every year we hand it to him. Guy can ride, but he knows damn well why he has never and will never come to the US to race. Medium fish in a little pond. And I don’t know much about the others, save for the fact that Lupino rides a Husky, so mark him down for a DNF.
Belgium
MX1 – Clement Desalle
MX2 – Jeremy Van Horbeek
MX3 – Ken De Dycker
Hometown heros. Desalle is fast, and seems like he legitimately hates everyone else on the track with him, like they all just stole his waffle maker, which you do NOT do in Belgium, probably. And I’ve heard that De Dycker is so old school that he literally chain smokes before and after races. Guy would probably smoke during the moto if it wasn’t for the fat dip he’s definitely packing in there.
Germany
MX1 – Max Nagl
MX2 – Ken Roczen
MX3 – Marcus Schiffer
3rd Rider Syndrome plaguing the Hitler boys hard these days. Nagl and Roczen can do their shit out there, but Schiffer is probably going to be supplying the throwaway moto out there. Guy can do whips to scream-o music, though, so who the fuck knows?
Netherlands
MX1 – Marc De Reuver
MX2 – Glen Coldenhoff
MX3 – Jeffrey Herlings
I don’t actually think the Dutch have a shot, but this Herlings kid is the real deal. The last sand GP, he won both motos by over 2 minutes, which I firmly believe is the most impressive single race statistic I have ever heard, including when Carmichael lapped everyone at Millville. That was a mud race, and while I still think RC is the Don Corleone of moto bosses, no one really cares about mud skills when it comes down to it. Herlings also does not give a fuck what anyone else has to say. I like the kid, I hope he comes to America so he can be cool.
File Under: The Triumphant Return. As everyone is very aware, the Rating of the FOTWs got the kibosh tossed on it by the corpo giants when they decided to start doing it with men and children (the FOTW, not “it”) then just stopped altogether because the only thing people really want to see with that feature is tits and ass and whatever they’re putting the paper bag over. Well, BRO knows what the people want, and we will be bringing you the BRO FOTW indefinitely. Since Marco BROlo is unavailable (he probably had to go feed the women that he keeps chained up in his basement), I will be taking everyone into the next era of BRO’s delightfully misogynistic legacy. And we’re off…
Hair - You can’t knock the classics. Sometimes you can win it with the fundamentals. Just throwing heat right down the middle with the blonde action. It’s slightly disheveled, which suggests that someone spotted a red number plate in practice and decided to take it upon herself to make a house call (or a doghouse call, as is tradition at Southwick. Seriously, that box has more white stains in it than every orifice on Anna Nicole Smith’s body [that was a cum joke and a cocaine joke, FYI]).
The Goods - Gotta let the girls breathe. People go to jail for keeping puppies cooped up like that. This chick is either sporting a modest yet strong-running C, or a back of the pack D. It’s really her call when she goes to pick out her shit at Victoria’s Secret.
Attire - Call me old fashioned but I think this outfit would have strongly benefited from one fewer piece of clothing. Do you know how many more tips you would get if you lost the undershirt? I know that 30-second board girls don’t really work for tips, but try to tell me the dollar bills would not be flying at this girl if she did that.
Misc - Hold the phone… is that a vagina in her arm pit?
Ding ding ding. We have a winner.
Final Rating: 2/2 because arm pit fuck happens to be on my bucket list.
Unadilla is this weekend, and for some reason I always think of this race as the old school of old school moto races. Old people piss me off all the time. Like, what the fuck are they thinking? I can’t tell you how annoying it is to talk to guys who raced back in the day, like in my dad’s time. Nonetheless, those dual shock, drum brake motherfuckers paved the way for moto, and before things got horribly sidetracked by corporate bullshit and PR departments, those guys were real fucking bosses. Here are a few reasons that motocross was way gnarlier in the ’70s.
They smoked cigs and drank beer on race day
Pre-moto routine. Fuck your protein shake
Seriously, what would shut a competitor down more than ripping a butt and crushing a brew in their face right before you went out and made their whole family hate them by ruining everyone in the moto? That used to happen. In fact, it is widely known that Joel Robert, who was an absolute boss in the late 60s, once put a cigarette out on a competitor’s barpad on the line for a moto. And, in another instance of alpha male dominance, Robert once stopped mid-moto to get a beer, then proceeded to drink the beer and go back to his bike and still won the race. Um, yeah, until anyone else does that, I think the claim to greatest rider of all time cannot be touched.
Grabbing the trophy girl’s ass was entirely acceptable
If only it were 1978...
I don’t even want to discuss how out of line America has become these days. Like, try this today as a rider and you could seriously be looking at the end of your career. Complete bullshit. We live in a world where girls hope that superstars do something like this just so they can sue them. Shaking my head for those poor, desperate slunts. Back in even the late 80s, a rider was always rewarded with a nice trophy and a healthy ass grab, as if to say “You’d might be the lucky girl who is making my sandwiches tonight.” And at that possibility, the girls were delighted. Not to mention the fact that since it is literally their career now, the girls are just ass for days. I seriously don’t know how dudes resist when they get up on the box after a moto. I would literally have to have my hands on my head. On my actual head.
If your rental car made the whole weekend in one piece, you failed
Success
We all remember the J-Law fiasco back in ’08. It was a big thing and everyone was pissed about it. What people seem to forget is that riders in the ’90s used to make it a point to destroy rental cars, just because they could and it was funny. Yeah, you might have had a race win or two, but you did not earn your stripes until you sent an unmanned Ford Taurus into a grocery store then ran away laughing hysterically at how dead the dumbass people standing in front of the car are now. It was truly a time of no fucks given.
Mullets
Flow for days
If you weren’t fully business in the front and raging party in the back in those days, there is absolutely no way you got pussy. None whatsoever.
The whole world is pretty much in full Olympic mode right now. The BMX BROs are all pumped that they get to hit the Olympic course soon, and I know a few moto BROs are jonesing to see some motors between the wheels. Let’s just pump the brakes right there, everyone, and consider a few reasons that we should be thankful that the IOC would rather drink antifreeze on the rocks than allow a motorsport into the Olympics.
Mini Parents On Steroids
It’s no secret that the parents of even the most astoundingly untalented children think they fostered the next coming of Ricky Carmichael. What most of these people need is a swift kick in the balls, and while they are kneeling down on the ground struggling to hold back the post-testicle-mutilation throw-up, just lean down and scream “Listen BRO, your kid sucks” right into their red, vein-popping face. What they don’t need is the glimmer of hope that their half inflated beach ball of a child will be an Olympic athlete someday. Just imagine what would happen – kids would be on training programs before they could walk; pre-natal arm pump surgery would be the new standard; homeschooling would get so big that they’d have to turn it into a regular school, which kids would then be pulled from so they could double homeschool.
Scandals
If you think that's bad, thank Christ you weren't at Vegas this year...
The Olympics are about two things: Being way overrated, and getting kicked out for offenses that even the tightest ass Mormon would claim to be “pretty vanilla”. The Olympics loves scandals. The two go together like beer and more beer. And now I present a point that I bring up a lot: Moto riders are sick fucks. It just runs through their blood stream. I mean, you seriously cannot get as good as these guys are by caring about what might happen if something goes wrong, it is just not possible. And that natural propensity for a lack of giving a fuck is bound to carry over into the every day lifestyle, which would not gel well with the Olympiad at all. Those guys get pissed when people are taking fake blowjobs from hard 0/2 Asian chicks. Pretty much every moto rider would be booted before the opening ceremonies were over.
Oh, and I’m pretty sure the whole steroids issue is a real hot button for those people. So yeah, A LOT of factory riders would be up shit’s creek on that one.
The AMA Series Would Suck
Isn't that the new Kawi rig?
Let’s take a look at two different scenarios: You can bust your ass all year, run a shitload of motos, and endure grueling conditions week after week, and probably watch some other guy do it better than you. Or, you can train at home all year, do one event, get a bunch of endorsements from random companies with huge bank accounts who definitely still think that it’s called “motorcross”, and make just as much money and fuck models and play golf with celebrities and have way more Twitter followers and meet the President and go to awesome coke and sex parties and just have way more fun being awesome than the average moto BRO. It’s a pretty obvious choice, one that you can’t blame anyone else for making.
And for all of you making the argument “Hey, the NBA is still good” – No, it’s not. The NBA sucks.
“New Wave” Moto Fans
How do you fit the scarf in your jersey?
Here’s the thing about me: I usually don’t like talking to normal people about moto. Basically, if you don’t actually race and ride on a regular basis, talking to you about motocross feels like sitting on the business end of a freshly sharpened steak knife. Bring moto into the Olympics, and you bring in a million new hipster fans who can’t tell a clutch lever from a mustache comb. You’d walk into a coffee shop and be bombarded by assholes in horn-rimmed glasses asking “Why don’t riders drink caramel macchiatos in their camelbaks instead of water? Water is so rat race, man.” Thanks but no thanks, BRO.
This…
The day that Polo Ralph Lauren has a legitimate place in moto is the day that I get up in the bell tower with a sniper rifle and a large box of bath salts.
So while Eazy sits around with his thumb up his ass all summer riding, I’m watching his empire stagnate and collapse under him. Literally the guy thinks 1 blog a week is acceptable for arguably the biggest blog in motocross. Ridiculous. So to keep the juices flowing here’s a BRO Top 5 for all of you who think that your post-moto life is totally working for you.
[ed. note: Really, all of these just boil down to one thing: you fucked up and let your NFG lifestyle get away from you. The way I see it, you are basically dead. - Eazy]
1. “It’s too expensive”
This might be the only legit reason I’m about to name. Maybe, just maybe, if every local track didn’t get shut down I wouldn’t have to drive 2-3 hours just to get somewhere to shred. What the fuck, Obama? I’m trying to put some work in on the track today and gas prices just raped me. Anally. Instead I’m just going to invite over 5 of the BROs with the loudest 450’s you’ve ever heard and rip the local sand pits and hopefully get arrested. Like a boss.
2. “I broke too many bones”
Okay, we’ve all been there. Shattered femur, collar bones in 3 pieces, blah blah blah. We get it tough guy, you’re scarred for life and the whole nine. All I have to say to you is this: Pain heals. Chicks dig scars. Glory lasts forever.
[ed. note: He definitely just ended that with "Glory lasts forever". BRO as fuck. - Eazy]
3. “I’m taking a break to finish college”
Hey shithead, you only go to school on the weekdays. If you elected to take a Saturday class you’re an overachieving douchebag and making the rest of us look like assholes. Stop it. News flash – after college you get a Monday through Friday 9-5 job that you hate and actually have to show up to moderately sober. It’s like college with slightly less drinking and more responsibility, then much more drinking later with a sawed off shotgun.
4. “My bike got stolen”
Sweet BRO. The WOW Boyz needed it more than you did. Get over it and go steal another one. That smug 10 year old down the street hasn’t shut up about his new ride. Kid struts around like his shit don’t stink. Might be a 65, but you don’t give a fuck. Time for a harsh lesson in reality, which is that given the proper amount of elbow grease, literally anything can be applied as a key to a deadbolt. Especially a hammer.
5. “I knocked up some slut”
This might be the worst reason to have to quit racing. Not only do you have to sell everything to pay for some mutant that looks like it just crawled out of the sewer but also you have to deal with the track slut you gave a case of the fetus to every day. Seriously though, I’ve never met a baby that’s not wet with drool, puke, piss, or shit. Needy little fucks. Hey, that dumpster looks about 7 lbs light, better even it out.
So last night, I heard all the awesome details about the guy in Florida who literally ate a man’s face off[warning: These photos are gnarly], while the apparently edible man was still alive (like a boss). People down in Florida have allegedly been using a new form of LSD or something that makes them hallucinate and not give a fuck about it. This face eating dude had to get shot like six times before he hit the ground. So now it’s zombie o’clock and everyone is prepping for the inevitable when people tripping balls on bad LSD knock on their door to eat their face. But that won’t be you, because you race moto. You have unwittingly garnered a valuable set of skills that were designed to get you out of exactly this type of situation. Let’s break it down:
You aren’t a pussy – I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again, everyone who does not race moto is a huge bitch. Look at every professional athlete in the “conventional” sports; Bruised ankle? Done. Broken finger? Done. Hangnail? Done. Yeah that was probably cool sitting on the couch and collecting millions of dollars, but that lifestyle is not going to go far with the zombies. Moto is like a strict dad – very tough on us and we hate it sometimes, but it’s all to prepare us to be ruthless alpha male ninjas later in life.
Great getaway vehicle – Few items will serve you better when someone is trying to kill you than an MX bike. Didn’t you see the movie XXX? What did Vin Diesel find every time he was getting chased by the Russian dudes? That’s right, a Husqvarna TC250 or CR250 or whatever the fuck they make. Just saddle up that pony and go for a ride, get in some can-cans and kick snipers in the face while you’re doing it. But the average civilian can’t do much with a motorcycle, they don’t know how to handle it. They’d be all over the place, crashing into shit and being very inefficient about the whole matter. It’s like watching a 17 year old try to drink – one way or the other, the kid is ending up on the ground in about an hour.
Homeschool – What is one of the first aspects of society to breakdown in an epic zombie disaster? The educational system. Lucky for us, 90% of moto kids have not been to school since they won a moto in the 50 class. Homeschool for most kids consists of playing video games and drinking protein shakes, but if anything that should only help. While the rest of the world is busy getting dumber, we will all be about the same and prepped to blow zombies’ heads off once we find the shotgun hidden on this level. Thanks, awesomely short-sighted parents!
Perspective – How many times have you been on a bridge on the highway and seen the two huge mounds at either side in the middle and thought “I could double that”? You know who can’t double that? Everyone else. As soon as the bridges go down (and trust me, they’re going down), you’ll be the one tossing whips for the kids over that gap, as the kids are getting their faces ripped off.
You’re a savage – This might be suspiciously similar to the first bullet point, but I didn’t want to squeeze all of it into one, so here we are. Moto BROs are sick, like in the head. It’s a condition known as not giving a fuck. What do you do when a zombie comes at you to eat your face? Eat his face. Eat it with barbeque sauce. Then bang his zombie girlfriend. All because you are an animal.
1. The Thumbs Up – How can something so good-natured be so fucking annoying? Listen BRO, that’s great that you want to wish me good luck on this journey we are about to embark upon, but we have been sitting here for 15 minutes and you want to pull this shit 10 seconds before the gate drops? Now if I don’t do it, God will hate me. So fuck you BRO, I hope you get rocked in this moto just so I know I don’t have to deal with this again.
2. The Psyche Up – We all like to get revved up pre-moto. It’s important to get the juices flowing. But the epileptic seizure that you are having next to me is not helping anyone. I am sitting here, game face on, ready go HAM on this track, and I’ve got this asshole who looks like you’re trying to do every move of the macarena at once.
3. Burn outs – Listen boss, it’s cool that your dad still buys your tires, but how many times have you pulled a holeshot in your last ten tries? Let me help you: it’s less than 2. The smokeshow that your are putting on might be turning your tire into a molten traction machine right now, but in the 5 minutes we still have until the gate drops, everything is going to cool down and you’ll be back to spin city once the moment arrives and you won’t get a good start.
4. The Entourage – Let’s make sure everyone is here: we got gate prep guy, goggle guy, umbrella guy, motivational guy, fist bump guy, and “just there because everyone else is” guy. You are popular as fuck, and that’s probably not gay or anything, but your crew is spilling over into my territory, BRO. Fist bump guy will be with you in spirit, but you definitely won’t get a good start.
5. The Gate Creeper – It’s all physics really: a body in motion will move easier than a body not in motion. So if you want to start 30 feet behind the gate and creep your way up like Fred Flintstone, the logic is rock solid. But my eyes are pretty much wired to tell my brain to explode at the sight of any movement, when I see your tire creeping into my periph, it is a bit distracting. And you still won’t get a good start.
Bonus: The Good Samaritan – “Hey dude, looks like you got a flat.” Are you kidding me, asshole? Do I look like I want to hear that right now? I was so much happier five seconds ago. Thanks, dick.
File under: “When life gives you lemons, go to the plastic surgeon and have him reverse the ‘M’ and the ‘L’.”
Hair: What can I say? This chick wrote the book on moto hoes. Hair bleached and burned so bad it makes God cry, with a playful streak of even more unnatural color to pique your interest and playfully raise the question “How many BROs have I taken on at once? The answer may surprise you.”
The Goods: Speechless. This is shit you see in the moto hoe Hall of Fame. Listen, even nature fucks up sometimes. Luckily, it has built in a system of checks and balances, in this case, Dr. Martinez, “certified” plastic surgeon. Just because A cups are gross. Even a small B makes me throw up in my mouth a little bit.
Attire: There is more to be desired on the cleavage. Your game is all about distraction. None of the privileges you receive in life are because of your personality. And I’m pretty sure I could park my car on your glasses, but it’s a miracle I even looked up that far.
Misc: How long till we see this chick interviewing riders for some media outlet? I mean, she’s got the full package: 1)Tits, and 2)that’s it. Shit, if no one else is going to grab this chick, I will. I just need two things: Money, and a good workplace harassment defense attorney.
Final Rating: 2/2, to complement the number of things I actually saw in this photo.
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