You Are Not Lance Armstrong
Yes, you sir! You, riding your 12-speed Trek Roadster in the middle of MacArthur Boulevard in the middle of rush hour! I have something I desperately need to tell you, and that is this:
You are not Lance Armstrong.
Oh, I know you think you’re Lance Armstrong. The Livestrong band on your wrist tells me as much. You even got the bike with the toeloops. And the asstight spandex biking shorts. I bet you think that looks awesome. I see you’re also wearing the fancy Giro bike helmet, the one that makes your head look like a crimini mushroom. That’s professional! I bet you even show up at the office, all sweaty, bragging to people that you, indeed, do bike to work. Kudos to you. Maybe you even belong to a peleton on the weekends.
But, alas, none of that makes you Lance Armstrong. I looked at a picture of Lance Armstrong just to make sure, and wouldn’t you know it? You look nothing like him.
You see, Lance Armstrong is a former world champion cyclist and seven-time winner of the Tour de France. Did you win the Tour de France seven times? No, you did not. Only Lance Armstrong did that. That’s why he’s Lance Armstrong, and you are not.
Lance Armstrong also beat cancer. Did you know that? He beat cancer and now only has one testicle to show for it. How many testicles do you have? I’m betting two, though you probably don’t get a whole lot of use out of them. That extra ball, sadly, disqualifies you from being Lance Armstrong.
Lance Armstrong also banged Grammy-award winning recording artist Sheryl Crow. Have you ever banged a Grammy winner? No? Know why? Because you aren’t Lance Armstrong.
You ought to know that when Lance Armstrong rides his bike, he does it in internationally sanctioned races that are planned months in advance. That’s why you don’t see any cars on the road when he races. They’ve been closed. You, however, take that to mean that all roads are open to bicycles and cars equally. Which is why I’m now stuck behind you while you go an astonishing 11 miles per hour in the middle of a single-lane road. Hey, that’s pretty fast for a bike! But you know what? I drive a Honda, which goes significantly faster. And every second I spend behind you is another second I want to mow you down like a fucking dog.
And why are you wearing a Discovery Channel jersey, as if you are actually a member of Team Discovery? The only reason Lance Armstrong wears a Discovery Channel jersey is because Discovery Channel pays him to do so. Discovery Channel does not pay you to wear their jersey. Like any person who’s experimented with drugs, I enjoy the Discovery Channel a great deal. But that does not mean I imagine that I’m being sponsored by them to ruin other people’s commute.
If you notice, there’s a strip of pavement next to the road. This is called a shoulder. It was invented by very smart people to keep cyclists and pedestrians safe from oncoming car traffic. But you have chosen to ignore this ingenious invention. Why? Because, clearly, you believe that you’re Lance Armstrong. Some roads now even have bicycle lanes to accommodate miserable people such as yourself. I assume you ignore those as well. Man, you’re a rebel.
Even if your name is Lance Armstrong, you are still not Lance Armstrong. You are Lance Armstrong from Topeka. Or Lance Armstrong from Chelsea. You’re not that Lance Armstrong. In fact, any time you think you are Lance Armstrong, consult this picture:
See the difference? Notice how Lance looks a like a Badass and you do not? Do you look like this? No? Then this case of mistaken identity has been solved. You are not Lance Armstrong. You’re a fucking dipshit. Now move.