#dopestrong

[cheekyhooligan]

[cheekyhooligan]

“I do despair that the sport will ever clean itself up when the rewards of stealing are greater than riding clean. If that remains the case, the temptation for those with no morals will always be too great.

“I have been robbed by drugs cheats, but am fortunate, I am here with more in my basket and more jerseys than I dreamed off as a 12-year-old girl. But for many people who do ride clean, some are going through horrific financial turmoil.”

[cheekyhooligan]

Hey, folks. It’s me, Lance. How’s it going?

First, I just want to say thanks for buying all of the yellow bracelets and all the products I’ve endorsed. I really appreciate it, because it’s been, like, hundreds of millions of dollars. And thanks for not noticing or caring when the American Institute for Philanthropy reported that my foundation spent as much as $45 to raise each $100. I’m sure you understand that charity work can be expensive!

I appreciate how you believed all the misinformation about how Livestrong has been raising money for cancer research, while instead has been lavishing its resources on marketing, promotions, public relations, legal fees, advertising and salaries. It has been a very successful branding effort: getting my name and logo splashed across the world, allowing me the chance to cut all kinds of personally-lucrative deals, and creatively monetizing the very idea of “hope.” We couldn’t have done it without you.

Thanks for not looking closely at the difference between livestrong.org and livestrong.com, since any money that comes through the for-profit latter is mine.

Sweet.

Anyway, I’ve spent more than a decade telling you and everyone else that I won all my races without the help of any performance-enhancing drugs, that my Tour de France titles and inspirational life story have been powered only by hard work, inspiration, belief, and my god-given abilities.

In fact, I have used every avenue available to destroy any doubters of my greatness, and anything’s available to someone with unlimited funding, the best lawyers, legions of willing protectors, iron-fisted control over cycling’s nominal governing bodies and sophisticated methods of outflanking even the most dogged drug testing.

Talk to Christophe Bassons. You can find him working in his native France, now, as a regional administrator of youth-sports drug testing. Funny how that works out, huh? He had to quit competitive cycling after he questioned my amazing Tour performances and I instructed every other rider and team to blackball him forever. Good times.Cross me, and your life would be ruined. Ask former teammates like Frankie Andreu and Greg LeMond for example. I ran Frankie out of the sport because he refused to lie on my behalf, and I made sure Greg’s bicycle business failed because he spoke out against me. I even attacked Frankie’s wife, Betsy, smearing her publicly as jealous and crazy.

There’s also Emma O’Reilly, my masseuse and assistant who made the mistake of talking to the authors of “LA Confidentiel.” I did what any former boss would do, and called her out as a drunken whore.

I even successfully squeezed money out of the Sunday Times of London for merely daring to reprint claims that anything I did was not entirely on the up-and-up. We came down on them like a ton of bricks, and they settled for the equivalent of half a million bucks. They should have known better.

But now I’m kinda bored, just wandering around the house ever since I made the decision to stop challenging all the baseless allegations from bitter liars and sour-grapes losers. As I said then, enough was enough. The fight against the unconstitutional witch hunt was taking valuable time away from my charity work.

So I want to do some triathlons and stuff, but I can’t because they won’t let me after I quit protesting the unfair, biased campaign against me that never afforded me the due process entitled to any citizen of this great, great country, the United States of America.

I’m considering saying whatever anybody wants to hear. I’m sure I’ll be able to cut a deal to get back to competing. After all, I raised awareness of cancer, remember? You had never heard of cancer – ever – before I finally exposed this obscure, unknown disease.

Actually, I’ve made up my mind. I’ll just say it.

I did it. All of it. There.

Ok. So we’re good now, right?

By Dan Bernstein CBSChicago.com Senior Columnist

[cheekyhooligan]

"I’m sorry I lied so many times, and that I used cancer as a shield, and to make money. I’m sorry I said stuff like, “The people who don’t believe in cycling, the cynics, the skeptics, I feel sorry for you. I’m sorry you can’t dream big and I’m sorry you don’t believe in miracles.” I’m sorry I hurt so many people through litigation, by bullying, by using my money and my prominence in cycling and my political connections to destroy their careers."

[cheekyhooligan]

"All of this is very much against the rules but riders think, “if they’re doing it, I better do it too, else I’ll be dropped in the crosswind.” Being competitive in nature, bicycle racing attracts people who want to win."

Does anyone really believe he's talking about crossing the centre line?

[cheekyhooligan]

"Those of us who doped and lied and those who were accomplices and witnesses remained silent for a long time in a misguided attempt to protect our jobs, our reputations, our teams’ sponsorships and the image of the sport. It was wrong. We followed a code of silence guarding an unhealthy culture. Riders, staff and officials must not fear speaking the truth. When they do, real reforms will follow."

[cheekyhooligan]

"Today, I accept responsibility and Usada's sanctions for participating in the dirty past of cycling. I've been racing clean for more than 5 years in a changed and much cleaner sport. I hope that my admission will help to make these changes permanent."

[duckbeater]

LIVE STRONGISH

Worldwide best-selling author gives up the fight in defending himself against accusations of doping his way through two Pulitzers, a Bollingen, a Fulbright, several National Book award nominations, a PEN/Diamonstein-Spielvogel, a National Book Critics Circle award, and a Noble Prize. 

"Yes, I've chugged right along on mescaline, but especially crack cocaine," admitted the author to his colleagues. They were seated before wide-eyed undergraduates at a brewpub, everyone fussing over cheeseburgers or vegan alternatives.

He added, "These books don't write themselves. I'm not a metaphor-making-machine. Fully half of my last poetry collection was testimony I received from ghosts while high on LSD. Merrill used a teacup, piss for him. He had Daddy's money. I got through my Mellon lectures on amphetamines. Of course they're performance enhancing. I can't put my damn shoes on in the morning without inhaling Benzedrex." 

After more than a decade of accusations that the novelist/occasional poet/lyric essayist/frequent New Yorker contributor was basically alcoholic, he came clean on this rumor, too. "Sure, I am basically an institutionally funded alcoholic. I never have to pay for my drinks. I show up, do my thing, hit up the table in the back. I think the kids have a nice time."

He doesn't plan on giving back "not one goddam cent" to the prize committees or presses of his published works. "Fuck them," he said, red-faced, pounding a stein down on the table.

"And those critics—also fuck them." He looked into the eyes of his undergraduate cohort. He nodded at his colleagues. "Let me be very clear: many of these critics, I have had the filthiest sex with them. Ball gag. Poppers. You name it. I've fucked it. I've smoked it."