The Great Cover-Up: Dermal Revisionism

Generally speaking, I don't have time for regret, and I feel it's best to make a quick peace with your mistakes and move on.  I mean, who hasn't had a few too many vodka Kool-Aids and shaved the cat?  Nevertheless, I admit that recent events have caused me a small amount of regret with regard to my Lance Armstrong tattoo:

However, I'm pleased to report that after an "epic" sixteen-hour cover-up session I've now transformed it into something I can wear with dignity for the rest of my life:

Of course, quality ink like this is expensive, so it will probably be another few years until I save up enough money to cover up that Rock Racing tattoo.

By the way, the artist responsible for the Robs Halfords transformation is an esoteric character known as "BK Jimmy," whose other works include this, this, and even this.

But not this:

If you've ever forgotten how to have sexual intercourse midway through you know how embarrassing that can be, and clearly this person is not about to let it happen again.

In other Lance Armstrong news, as his mounting legal fees become increasingly burdensome, word is that he's seeking more affordable representation and has engaged the experts at Macks Solicitors.  Here's their advertisement, as forwarded to me by a reader.

Hit by a "lorry?"  Crashed into a pedestrian in a "ZEH-bra crossing?"  Crushed your "bollocks" on your "topping tube?"  Then hire Macks!  They have the Bret seal of quality, so you know they're good.

Speaking of Bret, his ubiquity has reached the point where I'm beginning to believe he's actually a vital clue in the universal Easter egg hunt for spiritual enlightenment.  That's why I am now resolved to do whatever he tells me to do.  If he tells me to hire Macks Solicitors, then I will hire Macks Solicitors.  If he tells me to make a difference with a career in biology, I will make a difference with a career in biology:

(Spotted by another reader.)

And if he tells me to strap a reflective armband around my diminutive bicep, you better believe I'm going to do that too:

(Spotted by Erik K)

I was glad to see the package designers went so far as to add the armband to Brett:

However, I was dismayed that the phone on his arm doesn't have a picture of Bret wearing an armband with a phone with a picture of Bret wearing an armband with a phone with a picture of Bret wearing an armband with a phone with a picture of Bret wearing an armband with a phone with a picture of Bret I feel dizzy.

I also feel dizzy when I look at this:

Please note that I have nothing whatsoever to do with this lube.  I'm merely puzzled as to why someone would put a pennyfarthing on a chain lube container.

Because, like, not to get all tech-geek on you, but pennyfarthings don't have chains.  

Anyway, the point is that I have accepted Bret as my Fredly shepherd through life, though it does suck to learn that he's doping:

(Spotted by yet another reader.)

In other doping news, Levi Liepheimer, America's most adequate professional cyclist, has participated in an unsanctioned mountain bike ride despite currently serving a token suspension:

In other words, he's done absolutely nothing wrong, which makes this story about as controversial as Leipheimer's riding style is dynamic.

Lastly, I was reading the New York Times Real Estate section recently because it is fucking hilarious (read this if you don't believe me), where I learned about a New Jersey housing development for "nice" people:

Jackson Twenty-One is a plan long in development for an entirely new village of sorts in central New Jersey, with apartments and stores, a hotel and an Imax movie theater, surrounded by hundreds of acres of green space. It will have an eye toward creating a community for artists, and also, the developer insists, toward “nice” people. All in all, the proposal and its packaging are as idealistic, ambitious and delightfully unusual as the man behind it, the Tony Award-winning composer of “Man of La Mancha,” and the white-haired man from the commercials, Mr. Leigh.

Intrigued, I visited the website, and despite the fact it's supposed to be an idyllic place for nice artsy people to traipse around I didn't see a single bicycle in any of the illustrations:

Nice people my ass.  This development sucks.