What Is This, National !@#$ Over the Vuelta Month?

Gone, Baby, Gone: so the list of boys bailing from the venerable Vuelta over their failed pursuit of the overrated Tour continues to mount, with not only new Olympic road race champ Samuel Sanchez out to prep for backing Freire and Valverde in Varese, but also Cadel (who at least has an excuse) and, as expected, Denis "I Hated You for Heras, But I Now I Hate You Fair and Square" Menchov, still just too darn tired from a race he lost in July to be bothered with defending a Grand Tour title he's actually won in September. !@@#$%, why don't we just ride one stage in the mountains for Euskaltel to take, hold a big !@#$ing party for Contador and hand over the maillot d'oro a magnum of champagne and a pack of cooing podium babes on day 2, and freakin' save everybody 3 weeks if no-one but the Basques gives a rat's !@#? Free the Vuelta dammit!

The Silence of the Lamb: speaking of our beloved Euskaltel, it's been a good (well, deeply crappy) two weeks since Iban Mayo was officially screwed by the fine dissemblers over at CAS, and, unlike say Ricco's immediate crybaby PR offensive by his sap mom, fiancee, and sis, there's been not a peep from our delicate hero, not even on his personal website, which does, incongruously, post the news of his hosing right on the homepage. Okay, Iban, we know the drill: (1) 'fess up and become an ostentatiously faux-humble apologetic irksomely self-righteous hypocrite publicity whore (not that I have anyone particular in mind here); (2) deny it again in typical Spanish fashion and vow to return to conquer the Alpe d'Huez again in vengeance; (3) hide behind the skirts of your lawyer like a simp; or (4) spiral into a drug-and-booze-stoked pit o'misery and self-destruction to the relieved sighs of your even more culpable filthy skank compatriots that it's all happening to you not them. Say it ain't #4 Iban--we believe, or at least believe you're the least of this disgusting sport's problems!

My Boyfriend's Back: and, it's a delirious return for a thoroughly chastened Tom "Sniffy" Boonen as the sorely-missed boy returns triumphant at the Eneco Tour, snagging the first stage sprint to the sure delight of swooning teenyboppers everywhere all a-dreamy at the prospect of being his next underage girlfriend, and to the certain relief of our Tommeke's Ferrari fund. Leaving aside the total stupidity of busting Boonen for a little evening fun when half the riders're stuffed with enough drugs to OD, well, the Spaniards, isn't it nice to have him back since every sprint without him's just been one big ol' "what if"? Welcome back Tom--and keep your nose clean from here on out!

White Ponies On Dope: so the latest Olympic doping scandal is out, and for once it's *not* a cyclist: yep, 4 horses have been busted for unauthorized ingestion of painkillers, including ones from Norway, Ireland, Brazil, and Germany, none of whom apparently consulted with better-microdosing athletes in other disciplines before hitting the local corner dope-dealer. See, the narcs are closing in, boys--it's only a matter of time before that unnatural speedster Cancellara's Cervelo gets sent to prison for excessive lube...

Back to Business: meantime, the Italians, enjoying their Olympic road medals, pretty well dismissive of the Vuelta, and basically working on their tans 'til Ivan Basso gets an early out to crash the Worlds in Varese, have turned their attention to far more important matters: yep, our reigning world champ Paolo Bettini has recently crowned (not *been* crowned, you wiseacres) the new Miss Bibbona, now in the running for Miss Toscana, then all-out Miss Italia. Ah, the perks of being a national icon! Next up: the comely Basso, Cunego, golden-coiffed Pellizotti, and pin-up calendar silk-kimono-clad icon Alessandro Petacchi face off in a spandex man-candy battle-o'-the-fiercest for the coveted title of Mr. Squadra Azzura. Get thee some manscaping gentlemen--like any of you could beat our dewy-eyed Basso in that war anyway!

Gran Bretagna: last but not least, a belated shout out to Shameless St. Millar Defender, whose smashing countrymen and women beat the crap out of absolutely everyone in the velodrome in every single race by humiliatingly ginormous margins at this year's Olympics with the freak exceptions of wonderjailbait Marianne Vos' points win and the touching final-farewell gold of Joan Llaneras, former race partner of the late track star Isaac Galvez. Congrats to the Brits for rebuilding the Empire, and long live the Queen!