Mr. WhoreGay Lorenzo, as he is popularly known around certain circles, finished 4th yesterday at Silverstone, as The Doctor pulled yet another insane race to finish on the top, with Marquez crashing out rather unceremoniously in the rain hit GP. You can find the results and analysis and shit anywhere, I prefer Asphalt&Rubber for all my racing nutrition.
Rossi has been around since like forever. Lorenzo and Marquez have risen to the top these last few years only, but since as long as I can remember, I’ve hated them both, and seen a lot of others do the same. I don’t know why I hate them, hate is a very strong emotion, especially for something as irrelevant as a sport, but hate I do, from the bottom of my heart, for very different reasons.
I hate Lorenzo because he is such an arrogant little son of a bitch. Every time he wins, you should see him dancing, showing off. Every time he loses, you should see his excuses.
If it’s not mosquitoes, or helmet lining, it’s fog. What it’s not is a mistake, or the fact that others were just better, no sir.
All his moves seem scripted, his expressions, his talks. Same goes for his racing style. Give him clear space up front, and he’ll ride like there’s no tomorrow. But even the slightest bit of fight seems to deflate his balls right out.
I hate Marquez because he is just too bloody talented! That little prick came into MotoGP, and won his first 2 championships, with such complete and total dominance that it was just boring to look at. He seems to be always on the edge, yet able to find half a second on anybody else if required.
2015 has been rather unlucky for him, his pushy moves haven’t really worked out that well. He is more or less out of the championship contention after yesterday’s slide, but I think we all know that’s not going to stop him from doing something crazy at Misano.
But the most important reason why I hate Lorenzo and Marquez, is Rossi. There’s something about that dude that makes you wish everybody else would just crash into each other at turn one, leaving VR46 to wheelie his way for the next 20 laps into the glorious sunset.
Every time you hear him talk, he is like a fucking kid in a candy store. Every race is like the first one, it feels like he is living a MotoGP version of 50 First Dates, every kiss is a first kiss.
There’s something about that dude that commands respect, makes you emotional. Unlike Marquez, he never makes slimy moves, and unlike Lorenzo, he admits his faults and gives credit where it’s due. Nobody is too big for him, and he is not too big for anybody.
But you know what, the fact is that even if he makes slimy moves, or behaves like a dick, or comes to my house, rapes me and murders my family, it’ll still not take me more than 5 seconds to forgive him.