Punk-!@# Yap o' the Week

Me, Me, Me, Me, ME!!!!: now, I don't what the hell race *you* all were watching at Criterium International this weekend, but me, I saw heck-strong young RadioShack pro Tiago Machado take a really spectacular 2nd on the stage to boy-is-it-nice-to-see-the-French-all-not-suck-for-once Pierrick Fedrigo the day before the child also clawed his way to third on the overall, too. But if you were team leader/legend emeritus/noble nurturer of awe-inspiring future talent Lance Armstrong, in your 5-minute post-race press-orgasmatron with the fawning media so intent on capturing the brilliance and inevitable immortality of your every precious word that a mere mumble from you could make or break somebody for all human history, after a race you had no intention of being a contender in anyway, what *you* apparently saw worth noting that day was an in-depth exploration of your gastrointestinal problems, a thoughtful exposition of the weather, a detailed lecture on catching germs from little kids, and--in a truly Oscar-winning performance of total egomania--that "a couple of our boys were up front today." Generous! Man, just thank Levi Leipheimer for hauling your !@# up the Alps next July by kicking him straight in the nuts, whydontcha?

Millar Time: meanwhile, it was actually quite lovely to see the irksome ostentatious faux-wah-wah-king St. David Millar finally take a win, an interesting contrast given his post-doping tendency to blame the fact that he's basically stopped winning a damn thing because clearly everyone else but him is still on the juice (and giant bonus points to ever-diplomat we love Phil Liggett for delicately not pointing out the reason for the boy's loooooooooooong fallow period since then.) Not that I'm suggesting that the fact that he finally *is* winning means anything, particularly because Great Britain has notoriously plaintiff-friendly libel laws. I'm just sayin'. I mean I'm not saying nothin', nothin' you hear me!

An Encouraging Shout-Out to Tom Boonen: okay, he didn't win E3 Prijs, thanks to Flecha suckin' off him like a leech and Cancellara's perfectly timed attack. But he also hasn't been on a drug-fueled booze-blacked-out Ferrari-wreckin' bender this season, either, and he's really on fine form ahead of the big cobbles, so I think it's important he knows how very, very proud we are of him. You go, Tom--it's only a matter of time you big lug!