Tips From the Lance Armstrong Playbook; And, Good Luck With That Training Camp, Honey!

It's a Cruel (Cruel!)/Cruel Summer: yes, dear reader(s), the glorious Giro d'Italia is behind us, and it's back to the rest of the sleaze, passion, and triumph that marks the run-up to the 24/7 Lance Armstrong orgasmatron that will be the 2010 Tour de France. So what's the first piece of good news? That's right, o' underrated Contador companion Luis Leon Sanchez--Op Puerto wonderskeez Alejandro Valverde's finally been busted by the big boys, so the Caisse d'Epargne captaincy is yours! The ill-used Alejandro, of course, has come out guns blazing with the help of his cash-cow-lovin' squad, trumpeting, as revered mentor-in-dissembling-scumwadliness Lance has done almost daily for years, that he's Never Tested Positive In His Life. What, he gets bonus points for being a particularly successful doping dirtball? On the other hand, I've been thinking of late, with the riders so generously laying out the Greatest Guide Ever to the beating the now completely-useless biological passport, that really what we ought to be doing is banning riders that test poz from now on for their unvarnished and now inexcusably lame stupidity rather'n any actual cheating offense. In that case, you *go*, Alejandro!

I Heard a Rumor: meantime, wholly unsubstantiated word on the pave' is that even *more* of Lance's oppressed little minions are selling him out to the narcs, which, though in my eyes unlikely to derail the Tour de France prospects of the Noblest Rider Ever--in no small part thanks to the care and protection of the Greediest Most Obsequious Fame-Suckin' Enabler Industry Ho-Bags Ever--certainly could, if coming from someone slightly more reputable than Floyd Landis (and that's a dirt-low standard to begin with), perhaps contribute to a "catastrophic stomach ailment" for Lance sometime during the Tour de France itself, particularly if, even with by far the most formidable and psychologically-crushed team in the race, it looks like he's gonna get his !@# beat by that arrogant little twerp Contador again. Ow, something I ate seems to have suddenly disagreed with me--didn't I *tell* my soigneur I oughtn't've deliberately eaten that bag of prunes last night after I heard that nasty L'Equipe story was about to come out?

I'm Your Venus/I'm Your Fire/At Your Desire: in other Tour and Giro news, joyously reinstated dreamy-eyed pinup king of Italy Ivan "I Can't Believe How Perfectly My PR Campaign Worked" Basso has completely ditched the "I'm so looking forward to being a domestique for Franco Pellizotti in the 2010 Tour de France" crap, firmly putting Franco of the Euromullet back in his wannabe place even as a supportive Liquigas shepherds their quasi-discredited other Adonis to the pre-Tour training camp. Y'know, as if I didn't love Gilberto Simoni enough for rightly dope-smacking Basso as a drug-snarfing "extraterrestri" in 2006 when everyone just thought he was being a sour-grapes beeyotch, on the very eve of his retirement Gibo's bagged his recent maudlin diplomacy again, this time calling bull!@#$ on St. Ivan of Varese's angel-winged comeback by saying (very roughly): "Basso is a phoney nice guy. He behaves like a choir boy, but he isn't. Back then he did even worse things that flick me. His doping throw mud on the whole of Italian cycling." Aw, I'm sure Basso won clean this time--but I still love you Gibo, and thank you for a wonderful career!

Jeez, It's Not Enough the *Riders* Dope?: finally, when I first read it on tuttobiciweb I thought it must just be that my Italian skills sucked, but while that may yet be the case, it *is* also true that there's a new kid in town to displace those annoying back-alley drug deals and bothersome EPO injections: bike doping. The latest accusee: beloved time trial god/multiple Monument champ Fabian Cancellara, called out for (and vigorously denying) purportedly jacking up his ride by unlawful mechanical means and thus far outperforming those ProTour saps stuck with some crappy $10,000 steed. For !@#$'s sake, people, are we gonna have to start making the frames out of clear lucite from now on like some $2-stripper pole-dancing hooker heels? Me, I highly doubt the charges--heck, Fabian's 3 feet taller than the average cyclist already, he can intimidate anyone out of trying to challenge him just by standing next to their scrawny little bodies! Anyhoo, here's how it's supposed to work: