Don't Do It, Bjarne!

The Chicken Dance: no, it seems, gyrating suggestively (if scrawnily) in Bedazzlered floral disco outfits *isn't* enough to fulfill a guy who was on the cusp of winning the Tour de France when the same folks who let him ride it for three weeks knowing he'd missing doping controls suddenly got all outraged and pulled 'im out, as Michael Rasmussen not only keeps whining to get back on the bike with a real squad, but he's actually found, though the team director at issue coyly won't confirm it, a high-caliber buyer in--gnurk!--Bjarne Riis. Oh, Bjarne. Between Alberto and, well, damn near every cool rider on the planet, we know you've suffered some terrible blows of late, but to pick up a dope fiend like the Chicken--who the hell do you think you are exactly, Liquigas?

Men In Black: meantime, pity poor Armstrong ever-acolyte/foot washer/darn fine cyclist actually Yaroslav Popovych, who in being subpoenaed to testify at Jeff Novitsky's Lance Crucify-a-thon was apparently hunted down by the federales like Ted Nugent on elk. Geez, mount his bike helmet on the wall in yer living room like a set of antlers and you've really got a prize there! Me, except for that whole petty "justice" thing, I completely fail to see the point. I mean, didja even *think* you were gonna get anything helpful out of this guy?

Blood Simple: and, while we're feeling sympathetic to people making huge sums of money by screwing other riders, Alejandro Valverde's lost his latest appeal to the narcs, and, barring yet another last-ditch appeal, won't be gracing the peloton again til 2012. Which is a shame, come to think of it, as I always did look forward to him imploding and surging erratically before he started gettin' that !@#$ he was taking right, but if I can actually watch a race again and feel fairly confident that the guy winning it hasn't supplanted his entire bloodstream with 8-odd pints of liquid cheatin' dirtball, I'm more than game for that. Oh, Alejandro, if only you'd copped to "attempting" to cheat...or claimed it was your grandma's EPO...or blamed it on hard-core drug-addicted livestock...

Tyler Farrar Kicks !@#: in other news, am I the only one looking forward to watching US sprint king Tyler Farrar, whose admirable Tour de France was barely even sidelined by his suckmaster catastrophic wrist-crunch, whomp certain other sprinters next season? He welcomes his new teammates politely, he looks forward to sittin' down and amiably figuring out the schedule with potential rival Thor...the man is just complete opposite of the tiresome braggarts we're so accustomed to amongst the speedsters. Y'know, Cav, I truly treasure every Vinokourovian wingnut moment your mouth explodes like some foul gaseous volcano at the unsuspecting press. But while you *are* to be fair very good at giving credit to your teammates, if you're lookin' for class, take Tyler's. Or maybe just keep making obscene salutes as you cross the line, and have it out with Tyler on the road!

Woo-Hoo Norway!: finally, congrats to the fine country of Norway for being the bitchinest place on earth according to a new U.N. report, an honor due entirely, no doubt, to the fact that we love Thor Hushovd is the new-crowned world road race champion. Health, schmealth, happiness, schmappiness--really, what does any of that silly crap matter for a populace when you've got Thor?! Here, let's gratuitously review: