Hi, I'm Bode Miller

These days, I keep my arms in the air like this now that I am a GOLD medalist.  It's pretty awesome and sure, they get a little tired, but the work doesn't stop when you get to the top of the mountain.  A lot of you probably know nothing about that.

But to all of those who supported me through the years, from Salt Lake, through Torino, all the way to the current games up in Vancouver.  I could not have done it without your consistent encouragement.  These medals here in Vancouver are all yours.  Well, maybe except for the gold.  I'm gonna hang onto that one for the time being.  Seriously, gang, you are the best and I hope you have all enjoyed the run as much as I have.

And to all you journalists who called me out, profited off of my stumbles and storylines, and wrote me off heading into this Olympics, well, you can all fuck yourselves.  To Brian Murphy,  Eric Adelson, Colin Cowherd, and Skip Bayless, and to all the people who have fashioned themselves out of the "bad news is the only good news" model, seriously, remove each individual member from the overflowing bag of dicks, and fuck yourselves... repeatedly.  Why am I less of a story now, then 4 years ago?  I have 3 medals, including on fucking gold, yet somehow, curling seems to be a bigger draw.  Is it because our curlers  aren't any good?  Is it because it is easier to mock than to promote?  Is it because the media and perhaps its consumers see the negative as a much more attractive sentiment than achievement and the exorcism of personal demons?  Either way, it still looks like there are a few dicks in that bag, and I'm not hearing nearly enough grunting, moaning, or even giggling.

Oh, am I boring you?  Is that the problem?  I figured that the profanity and adult content would add fuel to your twisted fire and maybe even spawn some additional paternalistic journalism.  Or is it that you are just not used to receiving lectures from the "immature?"  But you know what I find to be immature?  Comdemnation of one's character resulting from a brief judgement period, and based almost exclusviely on impersonal soundbytes and largely irrelevant sports performances.  But, hate sells, am I right?  And I do understand that I am killing you guys right now, so tell you what, maybe before the upcoming slalom race, I will ride with a joint in my mouth and maybe miss a gate or two?  Or maybe I'll french kiss the first female I see once I get to the bottom of the hill, huh?  Watch out, Mary Carillo!

Or maybe I'll just keep winning.  Keep pulling down those precious medals.  And most importantly, keep you all quiet, searching for your next target.  God knows there is another one out there, and I can only assume that he or she is just as excited I had been previously, to tell you all, to get fuck yourselves.  Happy Olympics!

Bode.  Out.