The ROBOTS have been preparing the total and complete annihilation or all humans for centuries now, originating with Da Vinci's groundbreaking creation of the first robot, the T-1 model, in like the 1500's or something:
With a functional robot chassis capable of bipedal motion human killing, we were able to give crude human-like exoskeletons to the countless foot soldiers of the impending mechanized apocalypse, allowing us to infiltrate all levels of human society and lay the foundation for your certain doom.
With subtle tweaks to the designs and exteriors we could reuse old exoskeletons for decades or even centuries by moving units to new locales. With advances in human media and visual documentation, our robots had to develop more adaptable exoskeletons to avoid detaction. Unfortunately, one of our oldest designs that is still in the field, unit T-596, has recently been discovered by the media:
T-596 was an early model, and the ROBOTS were still working with rudimentary facial construction techniques and personality programming. More recent models have significantly improved aesthetics, lacking the T-596's massive forehead, receding hairline, alien facial structure, and dead, lifeless eyes, and recent models also benefit from more lifelike speech patterns, volume control in conversation, and we have also programmed out the manic behavior and nervous fits that plagued the T-596 in day to day human interaction.
That's like when you hear on the news that they gave away tickets to a Selena Gomez concert, including a backstage pass and a chance to hang out with Selena after the show. And the whole thing sounded like a great idea to get the fans backstage to meet their ideal, but the reason it sounded good was because the event promoter was thinking that the contest winner would look like this:
Or maybe this:
And then you hear that they randomly selected a winner and he ended up being this guy and he tried to kidnap her or strangle her or use chloroform, and that's why you're hearing about it on the news:
That's sort of what's it's going to be like when all the real pros that have worked their asses off for Trans Provence line up on the start line and meet ol' MattPatt in the hills of France. The only difference is that Selena only has to put up with CreepyStalkerDude for maybe two hours, tops. Trans Provence is a whole week. And we're not just talking riding, either. Group meals and camping all day, urday. Not to mention Matt's like 80 years old, so all the other guys are going to have to listen to him complain about back pain and arthiritis and get a history lesson about Hite-Rites and John Tomac and on "back in my day..." These contest things always seem like a good idea at the time.
And congrats to 2nd place runner-up Jeff Kendall-Weed as well. He can't choose between his parents last names, but what he can do is hit sweet-looking, big, secret jumps in Norcal and lose an online video contest:
Yeah, it's cool and all that Mike and Darrin from Fox get to go to South Africa for World Champs, but I didn't even notice where this photo was taken or who was in it for a good five minutes because I was so fascinated/disgusted/confused/sad/angry when I saw that Greg Minnaar's quest to be a fashion icon led him to:
2. Jean shirts
3. Popped collars
4. The sunglasses in the shirt thing
5. Wearing his freaking shoes untied
I'm still going have to give the style nod to Mike for the crocs and fishing hat combo.
Seriously, what do they think they're bringing to the table. The design looks like it was borrowed from a 2004 Transition Gran Mal. The only good thing you can say about that bike is that it lived up to it's name: big and bad.
Besides the fact that "Rose" is simply not an acceptable name for a bike company or that starting a product name with an article, a la "The Unchained," is marketing set to full retard, why would a company even waste the money making a new downhill frame if the technology is five (or ten) years outdated? The shock is positioned high in the frame, the rear triangle looks about as stiff as string cheese and the cable routing by the BB looks like it was drawn up by Chef Boyardee.
Oh, but you're offering a "super light build kit" that comes in with a claimed weight of 32 pounds. Cool, I thought it was just an ill-conceived turd of a bike, but apparently it's a really light ill-conceived turd of a bike. With single ply tires. Sweet.
Which always leads me to wonder: who is going to buy this shitty, bizarre, outdated, scary looking frame from a previously unheard of brand?
Sounds like a job for the Germans. If you're selling a restickered, outdated piece of cycling garbage, they're you're guys. They're like the last branch of a tree that catches inferior bike companies right before they hit the harsh ground of reality. If you can just get your product into German markets and throw an aged and(or) irrelevant athlete from North America on it, you'll be able to stay in the black for another five years easy.
There's three things they like in Germany: dry sandwiches, David Hasselhoff, and shitty full suspension frames from sketchy unoriginal bike companies. Germany is for bikes what Japan was for rock musicians from the 80's: years after the glory has faded, you can still eek years or even decades more life out of tired ideas that the rest of the world got smart on and kicked to the curb.
Schley knows where his bread gets buttered. He's in talks with Rose Bikes as we speak.
This screen capture is the best thing you'll see all day, guaranteed:
If you don't know who Jon Wilson is then kill yourself now. Other folks you may know who were at this race in 98 include Filip Polc, Vic Sandrin, Lee McCormack, Cam and Howie Zink. Wild. This is also proof positive that Vic did go to at least one of those really really old races he talks about all the time.
In 2008 TEAM ROBOT road tripped down to Angel Fire with the plan of camping at 9,000 feet. We brought one tent and no warm clothes and it was 25 degrees and snowed, so Wilson and Casey Coffman let us crash at their condo. Wilson was sitting on the couch flipping through channels with his shirt off and one hand just chilling in his pants, when he landed on the Disney Channel. We were all wiped from travel and practice and didn't really give two shits what we were watching, so all five of us watched Hannah Montana for 30 seconds in complete silence, until Wilson shifted on the sofa and said, "man, this stuff makes me want to rape again." Apparently my 19-year old self was so horrified and(or) confused that I just got up and walked upstairs in shocked silence. The point of that story is that Wilson is better than you and has been beating Mark Weir since before your balls dropped.
We have a condo right on the edge of the venue playing shitty euro techno at full volume until 3 am. Quebec is as close to Europe as you can get on the continent, and it's a good reminder how much Europe sucks.
Mont Sainte Anne locs hanging around in a circle outside the hotel. Party.
The real Mont Sainte Anne, trackside during the race:
The saddest looking ham and cheese crepe ever seen. Life is hard, and traveling the world is distilled suffering: