At Least Since His Team's Suspended His !@#: so, in a shrug of relief that at least it's not Sastre (nice work today Carlos!), skank no. 5 at the Tour turns out to be the harmless Jimmy Casper, whose personal website, surprisingly, doesn't as yet mention his current little entanglement with the fine folks over at ASO and UCI, though you can still join his fan club and, if you're a real wisenheimer, leave him a message. But wait! He's *not* a skank! He's one of the pro peloton's thousand chronic wheezing asthmatics, and it's sure to be only a matter of moments before the little snafu of his idiot team doctor in not getting his latest meds recorded properly is neatly resolved. Well, thank heavens for Therapeutic Use Exemptions and the astonishingly bull!@#$ standards required to obtain one...anyone else feeling short of breath right at the top of this next climb?
Aw, crap! Woo-hoo!: yep, bad news for a dejected Paolo Bettini, dropping his shoulders at the line and admitting fault in watching Valverde instead of wily teammate Samuel Sanchez, who damn well better ride the Vuelta now since otherwise it'll just be a total snooze watching Contador take it out from under the two minor Spanish domestiques remaining who actually give a rat's !@# about their own gorgeous hometown Grand Tour this year. Allez allez Samu--forget this lame "vacation" excuse, come back to us in September dammit!
I'm Queen of the World! (Spoiler Alert!): and, huge kudos to queen-of-near-misses Nicole Cooke, taking the Brits' first gold of the Games in a brutally soaked road race and canny breakaway with Italy's Tatiana Guderzo in bronze as such notables as Amber Neben, Kristin Armstrong, Oneone Wood and Judith Arndt straggled in well behind. Right on Nicole--now let's get it on for the time trial Kristin!
Punk-!@# Whine of the Olympics: finally, sad to say this one's to Chris "I'm Not Bitter" Horner, who recently took the opportunity not only to proclaim how great he'd have been in Beijing given his proven ability to keep up with the best in the world, which was fine, but also had the utter lack of class to blast Jason McCartney for just plain sucking relative to his lordly greatness. Man, Chris, not to remind you how *your* first foray into international competition left you crawling back home with your tail between your legs like a yapper-dog Chihuahua who's just been chomped back into his place by a Doberman, you're usually a breath of fresh air and your straight-talk-express act is appreciated and all--but did you have to go all Riccardo Ricco' on a boy who really didn't deserve to get pounded on for being a pathetic domestic-class weakling when such stars as Levi and George shouldn't've been snoozing back at the team car and missed the day's decisive move?
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