Dogs, Lies, and Videotape: It's Yer Pre-Champs-Elysees Tour de France Roundup!

Bark! Bark for Forgiveness, You Worm!: yap, Wiggo's won the Tour, Froome's gonna kick him in the works just before the time trial starts, yap--the big story today, for my money, is Philippe Gilbert's fantastic and wholly justified verbal attack on the morons who let their huge dog run into the race course, nearly dashing Gilbert's Olympic plans and any redemption whatsoever for what's been a truly spectacularly crap season for Gilbert. And *tell* me these folks aren't hiding behind their little daughter like Ricco' behind his mamma's skirts--wussy *and* stupid, you're lucky he didn't clock you like he planned!

Stay Thirsty, My Friend (No, Really, Stay Thirsty!): so, just as Frank Schleck's B sample poz is confirmed, and he swears he's gonna look exhaustively at every single thing he's eaten and drunk for the last two weeks (and I'm pretty grossed out positing how he's gonna accomplish that at this point), none other than RadioSkank cheerleader /serious stalwart Chris Horner has come out in spirited (and not unreasonable) defense: you don't know what the hell you're grabbing from a fan or scarfing at the dinner table in your darkest bonking moments, so anyone could put anything into your vittles. Since even I can't imagine that the kind of dimwit roadside asshat who's tempted to taint a water bottle in the one-in-a-bazillion-chance that their chosen enemy rider's gonna grab it actually has the brains and tactical skills to pull off such a scheme, it seems to me you vulnerable boys might more realistically just wanna up the pay of your team cook, soigneur, and mechanic, who actually have pretty impressive access, instead. And no more bitching about Contador from the peloton, now that he's innocent! Oh, how I long for the days when someone'd simply say he was *just* done banging his girlfriend, or his grandma's a drug-snorting EPO addict, or his dog's the victim of cruel identity-fraud by a vampire Spanish gyno...

Lies: Speaking of Schlecks, Andy, you almost had me with your passionate--and duly brotherly--claims of Frank's total innocence. And really, who could disbelieve that swoon-worthy face? But when you said he "never"--ever, honest!--doped, I gotta say, you lost yer street cred right there. As a dear reader has earlier pointed out, what the hell was that $5k payment to Dr. Fuentes for back in the day, his annual lady exam? Oh, Frank, sometimes you and Andy are just your own worst enemies....

Rocket Man: finally, not only congrats on his incredibly turbo-charged stage win, but also yer Tweet-o'-the-Week, go to Manx Missile Mark Cavendish, who graciously thanked the "dickhead" who entangled a frantically waving flag in his handlebars, crashing poor Cav (and his bike) to the ground. Damn, are the fans trying to take out *everyone* for the Olympics with broken bones and road-rash?--Tom Boonen won't want to kick all their !@#es that way, play fair now kids!