He's Baaaaaaaaa-aaaaaack!: and, continuing the season's highly disconcerting trend of guys older than those 4,000-year-old redwoods in the Guinness Book of World Records pounding the crap out of their younger compatriots in every single race on earth, no less a wingnut-emeritus than comic-book villain Alexander Vinokourov is gunning for a spot on the Tour de France podium, which, if he doesn't get abducted by a black van full of masked goons dragged off to UCI headquarters and subjected to "enhanced interrogation" til he coughs up the details of his, uh, training regimen, is distinctly not impossible if half his immediate top-five rivals decide, y'know, they'd much much much rather chill out at home doing club rides for three weeks in July instead. Oh, come on, like you don't secretly *love* to watch him while your guts just roil in self-loathing for it!
Thooooooooor!: okay, let's be honest, compared to Garmin, Europcar right now is somewhere at the butt-end of squat. But we love Thor Hushovd has not been feeling appreciated lately, so if they can genuinely pony up for some hard-core Classics backing--and of course an obscene amount of dough for you personally--honey, I'm all for the move. Vaughters, don't tell me you can't find the cash to counter-offer--now make our big sensitive World Champion lug feel *loved*!
And Now, A Gratuitous Tom Boonen Shot: finally, in honor of Tom Boonen's return to form and promised return to leg-crushing stage wins, and certain faithful fans and dear reader, I include this reminder that our darling clean-livin' boy's still got it:
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