I have a problem with the establishment, authority, the norm, the mainstream, McMansions, etc., but mostly I have a problem with status quo running free. Instinct has me refuse subscription, and take a pass on common memberships until the data are analyzed, but here I am, speaking to a niche. Aren’t my ways contradictory? Not really, but also yes, but also who cares: the point was just to draft a semi-concise setup for explaining why Rigoberto Uran Uran rocks bells clean out of the tower.
Giro d’Italia, 2013. All trumpets had been sounding for Wiggins to be the golden sheep. So there he was: emaciated and ready, pastily sporting the non-continental spring skin tone of a wax bean, the Queen’s Beans as he were, poised to be led by the recently made-over Nationalistically Brittish International Sky Brittish Racing Team UK to another place in the halls of victoire.
Oh, but didn’t the Giro voice a different desire…? “Yes,” is the answer to the rhetorical question. Early on, it was established that this race would bear no fruit for soft souls. The weather was hateful, spring illness infiltrated the pelotown like a dormitory itch, and the hierarchy was murky. Then came Stage 10. Fresh off a day of rest, expectations were upended as the caravan churned up the Altopiano del Montasio. While the Bean held on for his pasty royal life, Rigoberto took the stick. His attack was swift and though small in stature, his tufted mullet — The Columbian Smoke Screen, if I may — danced in his draft making faces at the stragglers. It was at that point my own interest spiked, my ears perked up, and I realized we had a race on our hands. Superissimo’s 2013 Grand Tour protagonist extraordinaire has made himself known.
Wiggo for the masses? No mas. Riggo, por favor. In full support of non-conformity, We’ve signed on for a summer of his efforts, and for the Stage 10 heroics that led to a GC Second Place, we are proudly flying the new guard’s flag. We recommend that you do too, and it’s best not to question us.
We present this 8 x 10 print hailing the greatness of a moment when a hero arrived without warning, without clamor, and most impressively without contest. Archival mega-nice paper, acid-free, Giclée print, Numbered Edition of 20.