And Another Thing...

In all this talk about assy sprinters, petulant lying GC contenders, stage-throwing TT'ers, and aging superstars who just can't depart gracefully, we tend to forget what is really important about pro bike racing:

Jens Voigt.

On Tuesday, Jens took for him what is a routine spill. He was cruising down the Col de Peyresourde at a modest 45 MPH, when his front tire exploded, probably from intimidation at being in the presence of Jens Voigt.

Jens hit the ground mildly, tearing up a huge gouge in the tarmac, causing landslides in California and a small tsunami that wiped out the island nation of Australia, which won't be missed (by the Kiwis) anyhow. Very thoughtfully, Jens donated some skin to the road in the hope that leaving a patch of his superdermis - an extra layer of hardened armor-like skin possessed only by Jens - would help it heal faster, or at least protect it from cracking, because the only other thing in the world covered by Jens' skin has never cracked either.

Jens also gallantly broke a couple of his own ribs in the fall, not wanting to disrespect the Col, which enjoys quite a reputation within the Tour. Once he stopped bleeding profusely, Jens mounted a borrowed bike sized for an infant, or perhaps Andy Schleck, and rode the remaining 140km to the finish with broken ribs on what looked like a kid's bike, riding the first 40km in a solo TT effort just to catch up to the race convoy. As he noted at the post-race presser,

My ribs are hurting but hey, broken ribs are overrated anyway. Fortunately, I didn’t land on my face this time and I’m still alive. I was offered a ride on the truck that picks up abandoned riders but I’m not going to quit another Tour de France. Now there’s a rest day and Paris is not that far away.

In all seriousness, I could try to make something up about how tough Jens is, but nothing I can fabricate would do him justice. Still, I'll try, and recycle this old post from 2008. When I first posted it, I did so jokingly. Little did I know, everything I said then (in a post that appears to have started the Voigt=Norris internet meme) was literally true. It's a lame move to recycle one's own blog posts, but compared to Jens, we're all lame so I don't even feel ashamed to do so.

Jens Voigt doesn't read books. He just attacks until the books relent and tell him everything he wants to know.

Waldo can't be found because Jens dropped him doing hill repeats... on K2.

Jens doesn't spin or mash the pedals... he kicks them into submission.

Jens Voigt puts the "laughter" in "Manslaughter."

Jens Voigt climbs so well for a big guy because he doesn't actually climb hills; the hills cower in fear and seem to shrink when he draws near.

If you are a UCI Pro and you Google "Jens Voigt," the only result you get is "it's not to late to take up kickball, Fred."

Jens was a math prodigy in elementary school, putting "Attack!" in every blank space on all his tests. It would be the wrong answer for everybody else, but Jens solves every problem by attacking.

Jens' testicles are bald because hair does not grow on a mixture of titanium, brass, steel, and cold, hard granite.

Some lucky horses are hung like Jens Voigt.

Jens once had a heart attack on the Tourmalet. Jens counterattacked repeatedly until the heart gave up and rode in on the sag wagon.

Jack was nimble, Jack was quick... and Jens still drove him to quit racing bikes and become an ice dancing commentator on Lifetime.

If Jens Voigt was a country, his principle exports would be Pain, Suffering, and Agony.

If Jens Voigt was a planet, he'd be the World of Hurt.

Jens Voigt doesn't know where you live, but he knows exactly where you will die.

Jens Voigt *is* the most interesting man in the world. But he's not thirsty.

Jens Voigt doesn't have a shadow because he dropped it repeatedly until it climbed into the CSC team car and retired, claiming a stomach ailment.

Jens Voigt visited The Virgin Islands last year. They are now called The Islands.

Jens Voigt once challenged Lance Armstrong to a "who has more testicles" contest. Jens won... by five.

Cans of Whoop-Ass are comprised of Jens' dead skin flakes. You don't want to know what the Pentagon can do with his snot.

You are what you eat. Jens Voigt eats spring steel for breakfast, fire for lunch, and a mixture of titanium and carbon fiber for dinner. For between-meal snacks he eats men's souls like a handful of peanuts, and downs them with a tall cool glass of The Milk of Human Suffering.

Jens Voigt believes it's not butter.

Jens Voigt can eat just one.

The first time mankind split the atom was when the atom tried to hold Jens Voigt's wheel, but cracked decisively.

Jens Voigt is the new black.

Jens Voigt doesn't complain about what suffering does to him... but suffering complains about what Jens Voigt does to it.

Jens Voigt can start a fire by rubbing two mud puddles together.

Guns kill a couple dozen people every day. Jens Voigt kills 180.

Jens's tears are so tough they could beat Brock Lesnar for the World Mixed Martial Arts heavyweight crown. Too bad Jens never cries.

Greg Lemond wasn't shot in the leg by his brother, as he claimed... Jens sneezed on him.

The Book of Revelations originally said "and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Jens Voigt." They changed "Jens Voigt" to "Death" because Jens isn't ready to kill everybody... yet...

God drives a car with a bumper sticker that says "Jens is my co-pilot."

Jens Voigt nullified the periodic table because the only element he believes in, is the element of surprise.

The grass is always greener on the other side. Unless Jens Voigt has been riding on the other side in which case it's white with the salty, dried tears of all the riders whose souls he has crushed.

The bottom line is that if Lance Armstrong was as tough as Jens Voigt...

Oh, who am I kidding. That's not even plausible.