Don't !@#$ With Liquigas!; and, Don't Do It, Carlos!

Throwin' Gas on the Fire: boy, if you're gonna suggest that--no way, dude!--lots of cyclists dope, and don't even mention a particular team in a particular nation much less any actual names, you sure better hope that the wingnut paranoid conspiracy theorists at Liquigas ain't readin' the newspaper, because the home of ex-attempted doper Ivan Basso (who did rather charm me against my better judgment with this year's please-let-it-be-clean-as-everyone-sez-it-is renaissance Giro d'Italia win so I better *not* be freakin' disappointed *again*) and bio-passport-busted Franco Pellizotti is outraged, outraged dammit! that apparently the whole entire giganto interview was somehow solely and completely directed at them, and are suing the omerta-smashin' Italian narc Ettore Torri for a sweet 5 million euros. Geez, you actually *haven't* had a real doping poz this season, so why the hurt feelings Liquigas? I don't know about you folks, but if *I* were UCI sittin' on a bucket o' Liquigas blood and urine samples from this season, *I* might start suddenly getting interested in what the fuss is all about...

Don't Do It Carlos!: speaking of Italians who never, ever, ever dope, I see Danilo DiLuca is reported to be on the verge of signing with dear little Sastre's new squad, Geox, which makes me rather inclined to remind you, Carlos--totally without the intent of encouraging sabotage or anything similarly illegal or just plain sneaky--that if you can't get out of that contract on a "do I have to ride with this dirtbag" clause, I imagine riders have an awfully hard time riding if, for example, their bikes mysteriously go missing at the start of every race, and eventually they might just quit the team in frustration. Not that I'm suggesting anything--I'm just hypothesizing here!

I'm Lookin' for Pound Notes, Loose Change, Bad Checks, Anything: speaking of euros, (literally) poor speedster Mark Cavendish is horribly oppressed by the Man again this week, as HTC isn't showin' him the love or, more importantly, the humongous additional amounts of money our sweet little victim deserves. I'll give it to him--he's the fastest man on earth, his total lack of self-control makes him a terrific media darling, and goodness knows if anyone in the peloton deserves a first-rate paycheck--besides Jens Voigt of course, who is a god and should be paid in actual diamond mines--it's Cav. But d'ya *think*, dear child, there are more sympathetic poster boys for abject tragic life-wrecking poverty than yours in the world? Nope, didn't think so--but you'll probably still get a healthy raise out of your whi--I mean, noble plea!

Jeannie Longo Rocks, Again: over in racing news, while it was really an incredible Giro di Lombardia--and Belgian bomber Philippe Gilbert's sheer hard-man bad-!@#itude continues to amaze--51-year-old time trial ace Jeannie "Don't I Make Fabian Cancellara Look Like a Wuss-Puppy?" Longo snagged her umpteenth TT masterpiece this weekend against the helpless usual jailbait-in-their-prime at the Chrono des Nations. Oh, and congrats to still-repentant ever-weeper St. David Millar too for his record-breaking win. Hey--stop cryin' there, ya big baby, there's no paparazzi around!

Let's Talk About Saxo: and, in an era of relentlessly simpy sponsor bail-outs, big points and a warm hug to Saxo Bank for announcing they're stickin' with Bjarne Riis no matter how some piddly little Contador matter comes out. The caveat: any clown caught eating Spanish steak or doing any of the !@#$ Bjarne did during *his* career will be summarily whomped upside the head with a lead-filled safe deposit box. Ah, well, you can't get somethin' for nothin' anymore!