Mario Cipollini, thought by some to be the greatest cyclist ever to slap butt to saddle and others to be the greatest lover merely to slap butt, has recently spoken out against a perceived lack of machismo in modern cycling. He then goes on to remind of some of his petulant antics when he was still racing, and wraps things up by talking some shmack about current Tour de France champion Alberto Contador’s looks. Apparently he find’s Contador’s face to be bland, like that of a “surveyor or accountant”.
I admire Mario Cipollini for his professional wins and his rumored success with women, and I’m delighted to see him behaving like a Jersey Shore cast member. According to his Wikipedia article, back in “the day” he defended his controversial behavior as generating publicity for his sponsors, even though he occasionally got fined or even kicked out of races altogether for the very same behavior.
Wait.. hold it. I’ve just had a thought: Cipo and Kanye should do an album together. You can have that idea for free, guys.
I’m macho and you’re a stupidhead
Of course, the most manly thing that a person can do is to call names and talk trash. Only last week in a meeting with a sizable prospective client, the name of one of my colleagues was brought up as a viable alternative to my services, but I politely reminded the assembled executives that the gentleman in question is a poopypants and has a debilitating case of “The Cooties.”
These damning assertions settled the boardroom into a pensive hush, and I knew I had them then, but I went ahead and delivered my masterstroke.
“…and he’s ugly.” I pronounced.
Male executives and female executives alike leaped from their chairs in a great rustle of suits and conservative skirts, mobbing me, slapping me on the back, and shaking my hand. They demanded that I triple my invoice, and one of them even gave me a ham. Yeah, a cooked ham; and why?
Because I demonstrated my machismo, that’s why. Case closed, job done, and goodnight Irene because that’s all she wrote at the end of the day.
Now, let’s go bigger: is there really no such thing as bad publicity?
“There is no bad publicity except an obituary” -Brendan Behan
I looked into the history of the quote, and it turns out to have been first exclaimed by Brendan Behan, Irish poet, playwright and novelist, in the early 1960’s. By that point in his life, Behan’s great works were behind him, and he was sliding deeper and deeper into alcohol abuse, but his fame seemed to grow even as he slid ever downward. His drunken ramblings were even broadcast on the BBC, which makes him a strong candidate for the world’s first reality show style trainwreck. What an honor!
Don’t worry, though. If drinking isn’t your style, there’s always the supposedly-leaked sex tape. I’m dying to be at a meeting where someone suggests releasing a sex tape as a viable marketing or PR tactic. I can’t imagine it ever being something I would suggest for my clients, but I would love to see another firm pitch it just to see it go down in person. I’d rather see a video of the pitch than the sex tape itself, I suspect.
I hope these small tips have been helpful to you, but just to reiterate, if you want to succeed in life you’ve got to get noticed. Should you get that far, immediately make yourself look good by being drunk out of your mind. Print up some handy cards with large lettering so you can remember who to talk trash about, and then disrobe and perform a sex act before the cameras can get away. You’ll be famous in no time!