L'equipe

I spent a couple of hours talking to a L'Equipe journalist I met at a
cafe. I actually did all of the talking and seemed to make some
headway conveying my opinion that scientific principles are not being
respected in current anti-doping procedures. I gave him my card in the
hope that he might actually interview me and give the readers some
kind of perspective on this issue.

-ilan

On Mar 4, 8:53*pm, ilan wrote:
I gave him my card in the
hope that he might actually interview me and give the readers some
kind of perspective on this issue.

If that happens, you will of course cite rbr as your most trusted
source of information on this issue, right?

On Mar 4, 8:53*pm, ilan wrote:

I spent a couple of hours talking to a L'Equipe journalist I met at a
cafe. I actually did all of the talking and seemed to make some
headway conveying my opinion that scientific principles are not being
respected in current anti-doping procedures. I gave him my card in the
hope that he might actually interview me and give the readers some
kind of perspective on this issue.

I envision a terrified journalist nodding continuously as anti-doping
commentary flies from slavering lips. Good show!

R

On Mar 4, 7:53*pm, ilan wrote:
I spent a couple of hours talking to a L'Equipe journalist I met at a
cafe.

Sounds romantic like an Anais Nin novel - there's always so much
passion in the beginning.


Do you think he'll call ?

In article
,
Anton Berlin wrote:

On Mar 4, 7:53Â*pm, ilan wrote:
I spent a couple of hours talking to a L'Equipe journalist I met at a
cafe.

Sounds romantic like an Anais Nin novel - there's always so much
passion in the beginning.


Do you think he'll call ?

A leaf fluttered in through the window this morning,
as if supported by the rays of the sun,
a bird settled on the fire escape,
joy in the task of coffee,
joy accompanied me as I walked.

Anais Nin

Awesome. I wonder why I never read her work before.

--
Old Fritz

On Mar 5, 2:16*pm, Frederick the Great wrote:
*Anton Berlin wrote:
On Mar 4, 7:53*pm, ilan wrote:

I spent a couple of hours talking to a L'Equipe journalist I met at a
cafe.

Sounds romantic like an Anais Nin novel - there's always so much
passion in the beginning.

Do you think he'll call ?

A leaf fluttered in through the window this morning,
as if supported by the rays of the sun,
a bird settled on the fire escape,
joy in the task of coffee,
joy accompanied me as I walked.

Anais Nin

Awesome. I wonder why I never read her work before.

It's dirty and you have morals?

"Bijou threw her dress over her head and then leaned forward to finish
pulling it off, exposing as she did so the fullness of her buttocks,
the dimples at the bottom of her spine, the incurving back. The Elena
slid out of her dress. She was wearing black lace underwear that was
slit open back and front, showing only the shadowy folds of her sexual
secrets."

or even worse

"This is how the Basque found Bijou.

One day when he arrived at the house he was met by a melted Maman who
told him that Viviane was busy. Then she offered to console him,
almost as if he were a deceived husband. The Basque said that he would
wait. Maman continued her teasing and caresses. Then the Basque said:
"May I look in?"

Every room was arranged so that amateurs could watch through a secret
aperture. Now and then the Basque liked to see how Viviane behaved
with her visitors. So Maman took him to the partition, where she hid
him behind a curtain and let him look.

There were four people in the room: a foreign man and woman, dressed
with discreet elegance, watching two women on the large bed. Viviane,
the heavy, dark-skinned one, lay sprawled on the bed. On her hands and
knees over her was a magnificent woman with ivory-colored skin, green
eyes and long, thick, curly hair. Her breasts pointed high, her waist
tapered to extreme slenderness and spread again for a rich display of
hips. She was shaped as if she had been molded in a corset. Her body
had a firm, marble smoothness. There was nothing flabby or loose in
her, but a hidden strength, like the strength of a puma, an
extravagance and vehemence in her gestures as in those of Spanish
women. This was Bijou.

The two women were beautifully matched, without timorousness or
sentimentality. Women of action, who both carried an ironic smile and
a corrupt expression.

The Basque could not tell whether they were pretending or actually
enjoying themselves, so perfect were their gestures. The foreigners
must have asked to see a man and woman together, and this was Maman's
compromise. Bijou had tied on a rubber penis, which possessed the
advantage of never wilting. So no matter what she did, this penis
protruded from her female bush of hair as if nailed there by a
perpetual erection.

Crouching, Bijou was sliding this fake virility not inside but between
Viviane's legs, as if she were churning milk, and Viviane was
contracting her legs as if she were being tantalized by a real man.
But Bijou had only begun to tease her. She seemed intent on making
Viviane feel the penis only from the outside. She handled it like a
door knocker, knocking gently against Viviane's belly and loins, then
gently teasing the hair, then the tip of the clitoris. At the last,
Viviane jumped a little, and so Bijou repeated it, and Viviane jumped
again. The foreign woman then leaned over as if she were nearsighted,
to catch the secret of this sensitivity. Viviane rolled with
impatience and offered Bijou her sex.

Behind the curtain, the Basque was smiling at Viviane's excellent
performance. The man and woman were fascinated. They stood right next
to the bed, with dilated eyes. Bijou said to them: "Do you want to see
how we make love when we feel lazy?"

"Turn over," she commanded Viviane. Viviane turned on her right side.
Bijou laid herself against her, entangling their feet. Viviane closed
her eyes. Then, with her two hands Bijou made room for her entrance,
spreading the dark-brown flesh of Viviane's buttocks so she could slip
the penis in, and she began to push. Viviane did not move. She let her
push, thump. Then unexpectedly she gave a jerk like that of a horse
kicking. Bijou, as if to punish her, withdrew. But the Basque saw the
rubber penis glistening now, almost like a real one, still
triumphantly erect.

Bijou began teasing again. She touched Viviane's mouth with the tip of
the penis, her ears, her neck, she rested it between her breasts.
Viviane pressed her breasts together to hold it. She moved to join
Bijou's body, to rub herself against her, but Bijou was evasive now
that Viviane was becoming a little wild. The man, bending over them,
began to grow restless. He wanted to fall on the women. His companion
would not let him, though her face was flushed.

The Basque suddenly opened the door. He bowed and said, "You wanted a
man and here I am." He threw off his clothes. Viviane looked at him
gratefully. The Basque realized she was in heat. Two virilities would
satisfy her more than that teasing, elusive one. He threw himself
between the women."


You shouldn't be reading stuff like that. It would be more in keeping
with RBR if you developed a LANCE fixation and fwapped to any articles
about him in Cycling News.

R

In article
,
RicodJour wrote:

On Mar 5, 2:16Â*pm, Frederick the Great wrote:
Â*Anton Berlin wrote:
On Mar 4, 7:53Â*pm, ilan wrote:

I spent a couple of hours talking to a L'Equipe journalist I met at a
cafe.

Sounds romantic like an Anais Nin novel - there's always so much
passion in the beginning.

Do you think he'll call ?

A leaf fluttered in through the window this morning,
as if supported by the rays of the sun,
a bird settled on the fire escape,
joy in the task of coffee,
joy accompanied me as I walked.

Anais Nin

Awesome. I wonder why I never read her work before.

It's dirty and you have morals?


Not proven as to the latter, therefore as to the former
I would not know.

[...]


You shouldn't be reading stuff like that. It would be more in keeping
with RBR if you developed a LANCE fixation and fwapped to any articles
about him in Cycling News.

Here is what I do read.

"What's going to happen to him?" Trahearne asked as I
slammed the trunk lid

"If we're alive tomorrow morning, we'll give him a head
start on his friends," I said. "But if we're dead or in
jail or in the hospital, he'll probably die locked in
that trunk. Hell, even if everything goes like it's
supposed to, he's probably a dead man already."

"That doesn't bother you?"

"Not a bit," I said. "He's a piece of ****, and he
lied to me. I gave him every chance I could, and he
still lied to me, so **** him."

"I lied to you too," Trahearne said, looking away
toward the shifting lights of the airport.

"Yeah, but that's the difference betweeen you and him."

"What's that?"

"He's worth killing and your're not," then I went back
into the motel room and left him standing outside.

--
Michael Press

On Mar 6, 2:33*am, Michael Press wrote:
*RicodJour wrote:
On Mar 5, 2:16*pm, Frederick the Great wrote:
*Anton Berlin wrote:
On Mar 4, 7:53*pm, ilan wrote:

I spent a couple of hours talking to a L'Equipe journalist I met at a
cafe.

Sounds romantic like an Anais Nin novel - there's always so much
passion in the beginning.

Do you think he'll call ?

A leaf fluttered in through the window this morning,
as if supported by the rays of the sun,
a bird settled on the fire escape,
joy in the task of coffee,
joy accompanied me as I walked.

Anais Nin

Awesome. I wonder why I never read her work before.

It's dirty and you have morals?

Not proven as to the latter, therefore as to the former
I would not know.

[...]

You shouldn't be reading stuff like that. *It would be more in keeping
with RBR if you developed a LANCE fixation and fwapped to any articles
about him in Cycling News.

Here is what I do read.

"What's going to happen to him?" Trahearne asked as I
slammed the trunk lid

"If we're alive tomorrow morning, we'll give him a head
start on his friends," I said. "But if we're dead or in
jail or in the hospital, he'll probably die locked in
that trunk. Hell, even if everything goes like it's
supposed to, he's probably a dead man already."

"That doesn't bother you?"

"Not a bit," I said. "He's a piece of ****, and he
lied to me. I gave him every chance I could, and he
still lied to me, so **** him."

"I lied to you too," Trahearne said, looking away
toward the shifting lights of the airport.

"Yeah, but that's the difference betweeen you and him."

"What's that?"

"He's worth killing and your're not," then I went back
into the motel room and left him standing outside.

No surprise as he's the Livedrunk poet laureate.
"Son, never trust a man who doesn't drink because he's probably a self-
righteous sort, a man who thinks he knows right from wrong all the
time. Some of them are good men, but in the name of goodness, they
cause most of the suffering in the world. They're the judges, the
meddlers. And, son, never trust a man who drinks but refuses to get
drunk. They're usually afraid of something deep down inside, either
that they're a coward or a fool or mean and violent. You can't trust a
man who's afraid of himself. But sometimes, son, you can trust a man
who occasionally kneels before a toilet. The chances are that he is
learning something about humility and his natural human foolishness,
about how to survive himself. It's damned hard for a man to take
himself too seriously when he's heaving his guts into a dirty toilet
bowl."

There's a tear in my eye right now...I gotta go, man...sniff...

R

On 3/4/2011 8:53 PM, ilan wrote:
I spent a couple of hours talking to a L'Equipe journalist I met at a
cafe. I actually did all of the talking and seemed to make some
headway conveying my opinion that scientific principles are not being
respected in current anti-doping procedures. I gave him my card in the
hope that he might actually interview me and give the readers some
kind of perspective on this issue.

-ilan
Was it good for you? ;-)

On Mar 5, 2:55*pm, RicodJour wrote:
On Mar 4, 8:53*pm, ilan wrote:



I spent a couple of hours talking to a L'Equipe journalist I met at a
cafe. I actually did all of the talking and seemed to make some
headway conveying my opinion that scientific principles are not being
respected in current anti-doping procedures. I gave him my card in the
hope that he might actually interview me and give the readers some
kind of perspective on this issue.

I envision a terrified journalist nodding continuously as anti-doping
commentary flies from slavering lips. *Good show! *

R

Thanks, it was kind of like that, but he seemed to enjoy my rants. I
did mention as rbr, or rather that I was on "pre-Internet forums".
However, no news since.

-ilan