It's the Worlds Road Races, Baby!; and, UCI: Spineless Wussbags

Road Runners: yes, as Judith Arndt retires in a blaze o' striped-jersey glory and Tony Martin's still catching his breath after Taylor Phinney came within 5 seconds of kicking his !@# in the time trial, it's time for the men's and women's world road championship races, baby, and we've got a coupla smashing courses with drama to spare: in the Sunday men's race, the sprinters vs. the breakaway punchers slugging it out for control of the race up the Cauberg as the Italians hope to capitalize on the star-heavy Belgians and the Spaniards cannibalizing their own teams, and for the Saturday women's, Marianne Vos desperate to grab the ultimate prize after years o' second-bananadom vs. Georgia Bronzini suckmasterly whacked with the flu just days before she hits the course. As for Cav, he's estimating his personal chances as far south of the butt-end of nowhere, but to give him credit, he *has* hauled himself up the hills a bit better than in years past. No offense Cav, so here's a last pic of you in world champ kit--but I still hope Boonen or Freire stomps you in this one!

News From Planet Wussbag: and, just days after Pat "Dick" McQuaid daringly suggested UCI might be open to, y'know, examining its own cowardly enabling hypocrite rump-kissing Lance-groupie complicity in the disgusting doping that's plagued the sport, UCI's shockingly backtracked a bit on that one, opining that instead of letting any uncomfortable truths come out, it'd be much better for everyone if teams, riders, and governing bodies all kissed and made up and forgave each other and moved on in the spirit of reconciliation, optimism, and relentlessly gutless ass-covering. Of course, they still plan to beat the legal crap outta Paul Kimmage for blowing the lid on their repulsive conduct, but they *do* feel really, really, really bad about how they ruthlessly crushed Tyler, Floyd, and everyone else who blew the omerta on their creepily cozy relationship with their 7-time Tour-winner cash cow. Not enough to be honest about the sport's problems, though! Next up: Wile E. Coyote's press conference on how he deeply, deeply regrets always trying to catch the Road Runner, right after he successfully smashes him into roadkill with a 2-ton ACME anvil and spits'n'eats his meeping feathery carcass for breakfast. Touching, truly!

It Just Keeps Getting Better: finally, bad news for crap-luck Fabian Cancellara, who apparently was desperate as everyone else to get the hell outta RadioSkank but has an ironclad contract binding him to Johan Bruyneel for at least another year. Jeez, Johan, you really *have* managed to alienate almost your entire stable of Class-A talent--now bow down to Jens Voigt for deigning to stay with you at all, and kiss his bike shoes 'til your lips fall off if he even lets you in his airspace, peon!