Floyd Landis, Spawn of Satan

Wah, Wah, WADA (Again): so, having been hilariously stiffed by the all-bark-no-euro witchhunting cheapskates over at UCI, enforcement Dobies WADA are now whining full gas on two fronts: (1) the crap Floyd Landis hosing has cost 'em a whopping and unjust 1.3 million dollars; and (2) the entire cheating-skank Spanish peloton remains on the road because those obstructionist-weasel Spanish judges won't turn over the smoking-gun Op Puerto blood bags. Um, no offense WADA, but you're a hugely funded entity with no-one in your organization personally getting whacked in the wallet (nor upside the head, for which frankly you ought to be grateful), unlike, say, evil culprit Landis, who's reportedly gone completely personally broke defending himself--as is his due process right, you crybabies--against the inexcusably incompetent bungling of the UCI lab chimps, who so !@#$%$ up the explicitly-laid-out process that I don't think the poor boy could reasonably've been found guilty if he'd ostentatiously slapped a giant testosterone patch on the works right in front of the assembled press corps at the start line. Oughtn't you (1) quit wanking and (2) blame the real culprits for this fiasco here? Even better, save money--free Iban Mayo you hacks!

And, Speaking of Pains in the !@#es: yes, tiresome twerp (and to be fair to Shameless St. Millar Defender, exceedingly fine racer) St. David Millar is now quick to disdain aspiring-but-failed St. Ivan Basso of Varese, on the grounds that the latter has utterly failed to take true responsibility for doping. But he's kissed a *lot* more bambini in his charity work in his two years in the tank, David, doesn't that make the two of you about even?

Crash Test Dummies: well, as we love completely jacked-over Stefano Garzelli goes on vacation to ponder his upcoming gig at the Worlds and presumably drink himself into a miserable stupor, it's already major carnage in the peloton over at the fabulous Giro d'Italia, as we love Dave Zabriskie caps the Most Frustrating Season Ever by cracking a vertebra on day 2, baby climbing sensation Maurizio Soler's hand looks worse than originally thought, Ricco' hits the tarmac and immediately denounces the course which I'm sure is karma for not appreciating Gilberto Simoni's guidance and mentorship enough (like it wasn't enough pain that Gibo lost 20 seconds the other day to Di Luca), and CSC, which was reasonably looking at at least a couple of stage wins, decimates the ranks even further as we love Stuey (right randie?) O'Grady and poor Brad McGee snap their collarbones in their own romance with the pavement. Oh well, there's always Jens--he's always happy to bound off at any moment solo like a happy slobbering dog after a tennis ball! Luckily, most of the rest of the climbers remain relatively unscathed despite their own tumbles, and in time trial news, it was really very sweet to watch we love wee mountain kings Euskaltel-Euskadi careening all over the place in the team time trial, and even more heartening to see they still managed to finish respectably in the bunch. Just wait 'til we get those boys into the mountains, baby!

Ale-Piper Cub: finally, congrats (and much-needed good news) to Alessandro Petacchi, who welcomed (with the hard work of his wife, no doubt) little Ale-Jet Jr., which should at least be a welcome distraction from watching triumphant young rival Daniele Bennati take a stage. Hey, if he can't ride, at least he'll have plenty of time to domestique on diaper-duty for his tiny new team leader...perhaps not quite the same adrenalin rush as ricocheting off his lead-out train and crushing a surging pile of sprint gods at the line, but a noble job nonetheless!