Hey, Lay Off Poor Johan Bruyneel Already! and, Sagan is Back, Suckers!

News from the Department of Total Pointlessness: okay, I get it--Johan Bruyneel was a very, very naughty boy. And sure, he screwed the dreams of every rider who refused to dope, engaged in a massive lucrative cheating conspiracy, and ruthlessly shut down anyone who tried to tell the truth about it, but I ask you, is *that* any reason for those Bitter Betties over at WADA to wank about increasing Johan's outrageous 10-year ban along with the similarly unjust 8 years for doc Pedro Celaya and trainer Pepe Marti? No, I say! Oh c'mon, 10 years outta the game, Johan'll barely know what !@#$ to *use*, much less win with--any eejit who hires 'im'll probably get popped like a two-bit broke-!@# amateur for Ricco'-era CERA or something. Or maybe he'd get Danilo Di Luca to give 'im tips on undetectable masking agents that give you the testosterone levels of a Barbie doll, or, god forbid, a Ken? Forgive and forget, I say--I'm sure Johan feels real, real bad from the comfort of his luxury private island, after all!

The Tourminator Returns (Even if He Really Didn't Go Anywhere): and, just as Mark Cavendish was complaining about the lack of a lead-out relative to some *other* squads that obviously only beat him because of it, Tour de France rival Peter Sagan has thrown down the gauntlet for the green jersey with a decisive victory in the Tour de Suisse today. Uh oh Cav--not only do you have that damn tower o' styling mousse Marcel Kittel to contend with in July, now it's that wheelie-poppin' bastid who can also get over a climb without callin' for a tow truck! Here, Sagz brings it on home: Not to worry though honey--we know you can still do it, so start practicin' some obscure obnoxious victory gestures to taunt Sagan with and don't get too psyched out for the Tour!

Ouch, That's Almost Worse'n a Crash: and, as we all sincerely wish Frank Schleck a safe and speedy recovery from his nasty concussion in the Tour de Suisse, even I can't muster enough soulless hostility to rag on his poor brother Andy at this point--his Trek boss is conceding quite openly that, should the former Tour de France sorta-champ even *make* the TdF squad, he'll *maybe* be shooting for a stage win. Aw, I'm feeling quite sorry for the kid here--hey, look over there at Brad Wiggins, if he's trying to get himself onto the Sky squad for July even if it's just to piss off Chris Froome, he'd better start picking up the pace from today's sorry ride!

My Fantasy (Condensed!) Johan Bruyneel Press Conference; Nibali Calls Bull$%^&; and, It's the Mur de Wheeeee!

Newsflash!: Good morning. I've called you all here today to address USADA's ridiculous 10-year ban of me from pro cycling. First, let me say that of course I did it. All of it. And a whole buncha 'nother stuff they couldn't even nail me for, either. Second, I'd like to say, who gives a !@#$? I'm already richer than God, *and* I get to stay that way. Third, waaaaaaah! other people got less sanctions than me! Waaaaaaaa! Finally--you lack jurisdiction, and you can't get me. Neener neener neener!

Vincenzo Nibali Just Called You a Cowardly Bean-Counting Wiener: oh, yeah, numbers-crunching sponsor-brownnosing quivering-jello-molds of the peloton, Vincenzo "the Shark" Nibali's got a message for you: with the possible exception of Fabian Cancellara, everyone else is a beat-down wuss-on-wheels, riding for ProTour points and scuttling for intermediate sprints and top-ten placements instead of for glorious victory, like him. Geez, Vincenzo, it may be true, but you're really not looking to build relationships with guys who can help you out in a pinch, are you--you might want to rethink that 'tude come July!

Fleche and Bones: yep, with Philippe Gilbert finally having shrugged off his rainbow-cursed funk of 2013 and tucked Amstel Gold under his belt (and I *hope* you bowed before Samuel Sanchez for blowing up the race on the Cauberg!), it's time for the fair Fleche-Wallone and, of course, an entire race full of top climbers, puncheurs, and rolleurs crying like babies from the bottom to top of the max-19%-gradient Mur de Huy. Absent from the men's race: uh-huh, Andy Schleck, knee-thwapped at Amstel Gold. But come on, you weren't calling him, right? Contenders: Kwiatkowski, lookin' for revenge; defending champ Dani Moreno; Alejandro Valverde, desperate to grab an Ardennes; and last week's surprise Jelle Vanendaert. For the women: well, Marianne Vos has barely road-ridden this year, but she's still liable to kick your !@#, and Elisa Longo Borghini, Emma Johansson and Flanders champ Ellen Van Dijk are ready to suffer. Here, last year's men's Fleche finale: Go Gilbert--and give Samu' your prize money!

They're !@#$ed!: 15 Kilometers of Cobbled Tour de France GC Destruction

Come Together/Right Now/Over Me: yep, the 2014 Tour de France route is out, and lucky for these guys it's lots less brutal but still bizarrely more prestigious than the beautiful Giro or Vuelta, with 5 mountain top finishes, two rest days, 40 sprint stages, and some choice opportunities for Thomas Voeckler to singlehandedly shatter the road surface below 'im into smithereens with the sheer force of his grimace. And sure, Froome won't know he's won til the penultimate day's huge 54km individual time trial, but first, he and the other GC boys'll have to survive this: nine separate sections and over 15 kilometers of stage 5 cobblestones, which could--depending on flats, crashes, dropped chains, and whether wee climber Nairo Quintana accidentally slips through a crack in the pave and disappears into the center of the earth--decide the final yellow jersey before we're even outta week one. Reaction: Contador is cagey, Bjarne's confident he'll still suck less than Froomey on the cobbles, Nairo's stoked for the climbs, Froome professes both optimism and the implausible idea that he and 2012 champ Wiggo can ride it all kumbayah together without them punching each other's faces in, Valverde's psyched to stick it to Rodriguez again, Purito himself is suited just fine to a whole buncha climbs til he's hopelessly screwed on the time trial, and Cav and Kittel's formidable hairdos nearly came to blows bragging on who's gonna grab the green jersey. All in--Andy Schleck, who apparently misunderstood the part where they said your brother *can't* take you down the descents with you sitting on his handlebars. Model of Understatement Award: former Tour winner Stephen Roche, discreetly opining that perhaps this year's "soft" course won't encourage vulnerable innocent riders to take "shortcuts" again. Wait, are we talking those jackwagons who grabbed rides on cars and trains back in 1904?

Ho Ho Ho!: and, we're about to find out who deserves to be on Santa's naughty list: Lance Armstrong mastermind Johan Bruyneel's got his arbitration date just shy of Christmas, and if I were him, after all that stupid crap with Lance whining how oppressed his poor railroaded teammates were getting cakewalk 6-month off-season bans in return for incredibly profiting from and still capitalizing on their ill-gotten gains (lovable as these fine gents are), and pretending he's getting ready to spill the beans again, I'd be worried he was ultimately gonna Landis my !@# and I'd start *talkin'*, honey. Oh, but omerta's still so much more dignified...

Papa's Got a Brand New Tat: finally, congrats to dashing Classics suavester Pippo Pozzato, who's clearly taking the massive heat from the disappointed Italian press for being all style over substance to heart in this nascent off-season, by revising his diet, spending days hunched in a windtunnel perfecting his position, and restructuring his entire training regime for 20--uh, getting some nice new ink. But it is *so* aero, man!

DS Strangelove: Or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and (Almost) Love Johan Bruyneel

Johan (Kinda) Speaks: OK, he's the scourge of the sport. And let's face it, the man is nowhere near as darling as, say, ultimo guilty pleasure Alexandre Vinokourov. But I gotta say, his bangin' interview with the fine folks over at cyclingnews--replete with well-advised refusals to answer anything *really* fun--almost made me rethink my knee-jerk loathing of the dissembling weasel who masterminded the most successful, sophisticated, and omerta-enforcing systemic doping program in cycling history--and let's be honest, that's saying a *lot*. Why? Mainly, I must admit, because prima-donna extreme-co-dependent overrated-but-pretty-good-for-a-lazy-!@# Andy Schleck, and his wind-beneath-my-wings brother Frank, clearly annoyed the hell outta him. And yeah, why *didn't* anyone expect anything out of Andy's vaguely improved Tour de France form at say the Vuelta? Bombshell allegation: not that Alberto Contador was so pissed at his egomaniacally publicity-whoring hero Armstrong's comeback that he almost left on the spot, but that he was so pissed he almost signed for relentlessly clean zero-tolerance reformed-wah-wah-hiring-only *Garmin*, which apparently was ready to take him on despite his even then disgusting alleged (and totally unrepentant throughout) history. Still angry your voluntarily-doping ex-worker-bee Jonathan Vaughters got exalted as Clean Savior o' Cycling along with half yer other dirty boys while you got exiled from the sport you launched into heretofore-unheard-of (on our side of the pond) cash-cow world-famous cult worship? Uh, yep!

Euskaltel Doesn't Do Too Bad!: shut up, did not either: sure, Vincenzo Nibali already grabbed the leader's jersey (which I presume he'll ditch right soon), and gained nigh a minute on most of his rivals, but dear Euskaltel-Euskadi didn't do we love Samuel Sanchez *too* much damage on the ITT: despite basically being sorta slaughtered by Henao at Sky and Valverde at Movistar, Samu was still only about 15 seconds down on Joaquim Rodriguez, and a good 10 up on long-shot Ivan Basso after the first Vuelta stage, if you don't count the fact (as I naturally do not) that he got kinda dropped today too because HE IS CLEARLY INTENTIONALLY SAVING A VICIOUS BLAST OF PODIUM-BLITZING ENERGY FOR HIS WEAKLING GC COMPETITORS IN THE PYRENEES. Aupa Euskalteeeeeeeeeeeeellllll--now get up off the ground Igor and Mikel, and take those mountains *on*!

One Divine Hammer (Not Coming Down on SaxoBank): and, congrats to stage 2 Vuelta winner/SaxoBank great-hire Nicholas Roche, who not only grabbed a great stage on the first uphill finish of the race, but way beats dog-house-dwellin' Contador as one rider team boss Oleg Tinkov ain't gonna slag on Twitter, well, today. Great job Roche--maybe you could, y'know, share the secrets of today's success with yer team leader?

Sufferin' 'Til Suffrage: finally, colossal shout-out to officially-launched Women's Cycling Association, dedicated to promoting the women's sport and, one hopes, shortly inaugurating the first three-week women's Tour de France. Thank you to all at WCA--I look forward to seeing you and your mentees scorchin' the tarmac for many years to come!

Johan Bruyneel's Lament: Lance's Right-Hand Man Speaks Out (Sorta)

So lemme get this straight: if Lance hadn't had the desperate adoration-slut black-hole life-suckin' vortex-o-ego to come back outta retirement, *and* Johan had had the common sense to offer a bitter broke-!@# Floyd Landis a contract when he asked for one, *none* of this USPostalDiscoveryAstana doping'd've come to light? But I thought all these guys came forward solely outta personal regret and pure love of the sport! Damn, I *hate* being fooled. Anyway, it just goes to show, (1) hell hath no fury like a loogie-covered fall guy watching his equally-dirty ex-teammates still rakin' in the dough and fan-love and (2) Johan'd still have a pretty sweet job in this business if he'd only been a loooooooooot nicer to Alberto Contador. Live'n'learn! In further "woe is me" news, Johan is deeply--*deeply*--hurt by the allegations he endangered his riders' health with a coercive doping regime. You think he's some cloak-n-dagger back-alley-buyer home-fridge beer-cooler amateur? He bought those guys the best !@#$ money can buy, you !@#$ers! Oh, and he's not a "demon." He's a sasquatch. But aside from that, he can't say anything else for legal reasons. Uh, Johan, haven't you already said *enough*? Keep it comin' though, I say!

This Post Is Not About That Unbearable Wanker Lance Armstrong

Yep, We're Slammin' Johan Instead: so the verdict is in (and out) on Team RadioSkank: Johan Bruyneel !@#$ed over the riders *and* the team in 2012, and they're all a whoooooooooole lot happier now. So does this mean we get to seem some results from Fabian Cancellara, Andy Schleck, (we know we'll see results from Jens), and spankin' new Astana signee Jakob "No ProTour Races for You!" Fuglsang? Well, I gotta say, I'm still a little skeptical about Baby Schleck, but if Fabian stays upright as he's usually inclined to do, and Fuglsang (who's got a highly entertaining assessment of Johan's past-n-present management style) doesn't mess with big-star Nibali, we're gonna be lookin' at some pretty exciting Classics and Grand Tours this year. Allez Fabian--and Jakob, time to prove up to your hype, unless you *want* to see what Vinokourov looks like when he's pissed!

Son of Kong (McQuaid, Whatever): and, for those of you (and I know there are many) who just can't get enough of UCI head tool Pat "Dick" McQuaid, now there's more:David McQuaid, Son of Pat, has taken a management gig for the first, and very fine, Pro Continental squad in Azerbaijan. Hey, that's great news--and it'd be even *better* news if you could find a nice new job for yer dad! Aw, c'mon, Pat, surely you're ready (if not about to be forced) to move on from that dull ol' UCI by now...forza Synergy Baku Cycling Project!

Cadel Throws Down the Gauntlet: all right, he had a crap Tour de France--hell, a whole crap season, thanks to a bum virus--but Cadel Evans is back, baby, and aiming for the podium in 2013. I'll admit, I used to scorn Cadel as a dull wheelsucker, but the last few years he's proved himself one of the toughest damn guys in the peloton *and* someone who's not afraid to take charge and destroy the field. More, how can you *not* love a man who'll threaten to pulverize a journalist who !@#$s with his dog? Go Cadel--and bring Thor Hushovd back along with you, I beg!

It's the Vuelta a Espana, Baby!: finally, get ready for the official presentation tomorrow of the fabulous Vuelta a Espana, with Alberto, we love Samuel Sanchez, and a host of wannabes in rapt attendance, and a course that's reputed to be even more sadistic than last year's. Aupa Euskalteeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeel--eat their dust, Valverde!

It's Your New Year's Resolutions for the Peloton!

Yes, the beauty, misery, glory, and serious skankdom of 2012 is past, and a brand spankin' New Year is about to begin! So, in the spirit of self-improvement with which we all begin the year, I helpfully offer these New Year's Resolutions for the Peloton:

Mark Cavendish: I am gonna beat that upstart little snot Peter Sagan *down.* *I'm* supposed to be the upstart little snot!

Tom Boonen: holy crap, I *can* win without partying. Honey--I'm running off to become a monk!

Pat "Dick" McQuaid: I'm gonna resign from UCI. *After* I nail every last mother!@#$er who's criticized me.

Brad Wiggins: I resolve to back Froomey at the Tour de France. *Without* fruitlessly knocking myself out at the Giro.

Chris Froome: I'm gonna man up and say it: I think I was better than Wiggo, I think I deserved it more'n Wiggo, and it completely pissed me off to have to bow to Wiggo. Happy New Year, Brad--this year, you're *my* beeyotch!

Alberto Contador: I resolve not to test positive. Not that I have any reason to. Aw, !@#$in' dope-snorting vegetables!

Joaquim Rodriguez: I resolve to sign with Movistar. Try beating me for the podium *now*, Valverde you punk!

Andy Schleck: I'll learn to ride without Frank. Because I'm sure as hell scr$wed if I don't!

The Tifosi: We resolve not to go for a stroll, set up a nice lunch, or let our dog go for a walk just as the peloton is going by at 50 kph. Bonus points if we don't let our clueless little rugrat hold a plastic bag right out next to your handlebars!

Marianne Vos: I resolve to take a few days off during the season, just to give someone else a chance. Considering the wins I've racked up already, they'll barely even be noticed!

Jens Voigt: I will ride in the ProTour through at least 2036. And probably like 100 years after I'm dead. Can I go yet? Can I go yet? Can I go yet?

Alexandre Vinokourov: Resolve? I resolve NOTHING! YOU will resolve to obey ME, you weakling worthless maggot!

Johan Bruyneel: I resolve to apologize. From my uncharted desert island, by untraceable message in a bottle, after I've cleaned out my extensive Swiss bank accounts. Suckers!

USADA: The next bull!@#$ artist who swears they stopped doping "in 2006", we're gonna ban for *life.* *And* thwap 'em upside the head with a copy of the Reasoned Decision. Dang, that's gonna hurt!

Team Sky: After we lose our first 637 races this season, we'll resolve to let ex-dopers who really, really feel bad about it be coaches again. Bobby, you got a new gig yet? We were just kidding, we promise!

Now get to self-improvin', I'll try to catch anyone I missed, and I'll see you when you fall off the wagon!

Johan Bruyneel Freaks Out

Smart Thinkin' There, Johan!: yep, as even relentless fan-boy hero-worshipping love-rag Sports Illustrated gives up on a national idol and names Lance Armstrong its "Anti-Sportsman" of the Year, PostalDiscovery cohort-in-slime Johan Bruyneel, in a move seemingly calculated to court even more animosity and suspicion from the relevant governing bodies, has sagely tweeted his own commitment to the new era of clean cycling: "A bunch of douches r gonna meet in London 2 change cycling. But why is @vaughters not on the list? He should be leading that group...". Now *that's* a guy who's showing (1) humble Hincapian remorse and (2) Armstrongian class! Dang, I understand he's pissed that Jonathan Vaughters gets to tattoo "I TOOK TONS OF DOPE" on his forehead hire a pack of silent complicit former Armstrong henchmen still earning tons of money off their drug-wrought fame til forced to confess write a tearful op-ed in the paper apologize profusely change course and be internationally slobbered over as the Mr. Clean Savior o' Cycling and all--and far worse, natch, that Vaughters dissingly blocked Johan on his Twitter feed--but Johan, the solution to *your* personally going down in flames for essentially similar transgressions isn't to get all snitty that Vaughters figured a way out of his mess, but for you to either (1) shut the hell up and get out of the way of, heck, at least *some* small temporary progress in this glorious tainted wreck of a sport or (2) at least shut the hell up enough not to antagonize people who can get you canned for life and make your current travails even worse. Oh, Johan, just shed a few Millaresque tears for the cameras, write a slutty little tell-all for 'cycling's own good', totally coincidentally rake in the obscene loads o' dough and retire already...after all, you still get to keep the credit for your little buddy Contador's 2009 Tour de France win, right?

Frank Rises Again: speaking of RadioSkank, poor innocent Frank Schleck is braving it out in team camp as he awaits his inevitable clearance on banned-diuretic charges, and I gotta say, much as I wish the best for ol' Frank--mainly because I think he really is a better cyclist than even his talented younger brother, at least, y'know, when he's, well, nutritionally up to date--I'm actually kinda worried if this stunt isn't just gonna make it worse for fragile Andy when his brother is torn from him *again.* C'mon, Andy, you know despite this week's sniping that Contador's still gonna get to ride the Tour--between the tenacious likes of him, Cadel, and Froome all physically and mentally poised to stalk you every turn of the pedals, you *really* better toughen up quick!

G.I. Joe is Back: finally, congrats to the fresh meat over at Quick Step for all surviving their special-ops boot camp this week! The big winner: new recruit Mark Cavendish, who as you can see here has decisively beat down Tom Boonen for team-leadership supremacy once and for all: Congrats Cav, and Tommeke, so sorry, but then, all's fair in love and war!

Calm Down Everyone, Brad's Okay; and, Johan Starts a Twit-War

And He Has No Class: well, after skimming last night's twitter-war over whether news of Brad Wiggins' awful bike crash with a car was being with due solemnity--and I'm truly glad to report he's not nearly so badly damaged as initially feared--I'm also pleased to note he was in fact well enough to flash a healthy one-fingered salute to the anxious and sympathetic press corps on his way out the hospital doors. What the hell? Look, I know you *really* hate the spotlight--in which case, writing a new autobio which I assume you want people to buy probably wasn't the most discreet and self-effacing move, but whatever--and understandably, anyone, particularly a cyclist who makes a living off his bod, who's been in a frightening crash is gonna be both (1) in pain and (2) pretty pissy about being bothered. And to be sure, it's gotta be unbelievable pressure going from Really Great British Time Triallist to Athlete Hero-God of a Nation in 3 short weeks. But Bradley, you are an *idol* in Great Britain, the press and fans love and adore you and are *so* glad you're okay, why be such a wanker to them when they show they care? You hate the spotlight? I respect that--so take your book off the shelf, stop posing on thrones, and quit voluntarily yappin' to the press every five minutes how much you hate when anyone notices your existence. Now rest up, and get well soon--you wanna be at your best if you're gonna take on the noble Giro against the Italians, and besides, Froome'll really need you to support him in the Tour next year!

Johan Brings It On: so you think Armstrong collaborator Johan Bruyneel's gonna take any crap for enabling the most disgusting and insidious example of teamwide systemic doping in history? Hell, no, he isn't and, in explanation as promised of the whole tawdry alleged situation, he's--uh, all-caps lit into Garmin boss/reformed dopemeister Jonathan Vaughters for blocking him from Vaughters' Twitter feed. *Well*, Johan, *that* in-depth defense of your innocence sure puts everyone's concerns about you and the scummiest era in cycling to rest! Hey, since my opinion don't matter, just ask Hincapie, or Leipheimer, or Zabriskie, or Vaughters, or...aw, sorry, Johan, I guess you're *still* screwed!

Yer Handy Guide to the Brave New World o' Cycling--In Ten Easy Steps!

Well folks, the implications of the Armstrong scandal are finally starting to sink in to the teams, the managers, and the peloton, and since it's clearly a whole new world out there--and by "new," I include whatever "new" doping methods are already outwitting the bio passport and bypassing the doping control--it's time we all review the ground-rules, avoid any future screw-ups, and get the hell with the program. Ergo, I bring you:

1. If you doped years ago, never tested positive, and lied by omission, you are (1) a hero and (2) a victim.

2. If you doped years ago, tested positive, and lied by speaking, you are (1) a scumbag and (2) a perp.

3. If you doped years ago, and lie about it, you're hired. But you are *so* in the doghouse if you get busted 10 years from now, buddy!

4. If you doped years ago, and actually 'fess up to it, you're fired.

5. If you doped years ago, actually 'fess up to it, and are a devoted mentor to young riders, you are still fired. Or you get to run Garmin.

6. If you doped recently, didn't 'fess up, and are still riding, you're on Movistar, Lampre, or Saxo Bank.

7. If you prosecute dopers after a thorough and careful investigation, you are an evil, joyless witch-hunter who has destroyed the sport.

8. If you enable dopers through sustained incompetence, sporadic ennui, or outright complicity, you are head of a major international sporting union.

9. If you're Johan Bruyneel, you're pretty well !@#$ed.

10. If you perpetrated the worst sporting fraud in history, and kept it quiet through threats, intimidation, and hiding behind your charity work, you are still, and always will be, a multi, multi, multimillionaire. Ha ha!

All right, you two-wheeled speeding clowns, I've helped you all enough. Now crank up that Armstrong-in-effigy bonfire, toast up some marshmallows, and don't say I didn't warn you!

Deflection, Denial, Duhs, and "D'oh!"s: Cycling Reacts to the Armstrong Report

Deflection!: well, now that we know straight from the man himself that Armstrong henchman Johan Bruyneel wasn't sacked by RadioSkank--he just decided to leave to protect the team, the sweetheart--it's time for him to address the *real* victim here: yep, Johan himself, whose own quest for well-deserved vindication for these terrible lies by EVERYONE WHO EVER WORKED FOR HIM BUT LANCE has been severely compromised, not by the fact that basically any defense he could make is bull!@#$, but by USADA's meanie tactics. Please, can't *someone* make this go away? Oh, wait, Johan could, if he dropped this farce--well, the heck with that then I guess! And then of course there's doper-enabler sourpuss Pat "Dick" McQuaid, who unfortunately is too busy with the Tour of Beijing at the moment to pay attention to such trivialities, but who promises to take a looooooong, sloooooooooow, caaaaaaaareful read of the incredibly long and detailed USADA report as soon as hell freezes ov--uh, as soon as he gets a few minutes' break from his brutal mid-October schedule. Looking forward to what you have to say, Pat--though I imagine it ain't gonna be much without your lawyers present!

Denial!: meantime, I remain impressed that at a time when Lance was basically jammin' needles into his teammates !@#es at the dinner table, when he deigned to dine with them that is, so many of the guys who worked for him at the time--like, say, Jurgen Van Den Broeck and Classics maven Stijn Devolder, or Sean Yates--had no idea anything doping-related was remotely going on at USPostalDiscoveryRadioSkank. What's more, no one else in other teams associated with doping, like Fabian Cancellara at Bjarne Riis' CSC in 2006 when Basso was busted, or Brad Wiggins whose own team had to fire a doc closely associated with doping this season, or basically anyone who ever went to Michele Ferrari for training advice, or, well, every other team on the planet, had any idea what was going on anywhere either, even though they're intimately familiar with related slang terms and are pretty sure that everyone but them was doing it. Well, to be fair, there was no reason to think anyone was doping, since only the guilty ones ever turned up poz--oh, you almost have to feel kindly towards anyone who actually *believes* it when they suggest such things!

Duhs!: by contrast, all the smug little s.o.b.s who called for strict anti-doping controls only after they'd been caught and couldn't personally benefit from it anymore since they had to race clean--hi, St. David Millar!--are again calling for everyone else's head, presumably because Pat "Dick" and Hein Verbruggen didn't pull an Armstrong and cover *their* dirty doping carcasses when *they* could've used it. Way to pursue justice, you vengeful little hypocrites! Me, I'm ready to *call* for forced omerta on any whinging wanker who doesn't just shut the hell up umpteen years later after an initial mea culpa and then *quietly* just leading by example. Leave it to people who actually voluntarily raced clean in the 1st place and who you screwed too the 1st time around, you crybabies!

D'ohs!: last but not least, a moment of silence, please, for the guys still left on RadioSkank (at least til the whole team collapses tomorrow), not only the stellar Jens and Fabian and Andy (as Frank, I imagine, was already outta the picture), who at least have a chance of finding another home by virtue of their star power even if most teams' budgets are already blown elsewhere, but most particularly the poor remaining domestiques, who have possibly no chance of finding another home this late in the transfer season, and the staff, who are likewise gonna have a hard time finding new homes. !@#dammit Johan, you want to hose the bazillionaire dopers you created, fine--do you have to drag down the rider-and-staff minions down with you too?

Ask And Ye Shall Receive: It's Yer Hit Parade of Cycling's Biggest !@#holes!

Okay, the national champions are being declared, the Tour de France rosters are out, and the Olympic teams are shaping up. But when a dear reader suggests a "Hit Parade" of the biggest wankers in cycling, who am I to refuse? Ergo, without further ado:

1. Lance Armstrong. One of the greatest cyclists of all time? Sure. An inspiration to millions for his triumph over cancer and awareness work? Yup. A grade-A primo !@#hole? Absolutely. Let's see. Your domestiques utterly bust their nuts for you all year, every year, at the complete expense of their own ambitions, so you can go down in history. And how do you thank 'em? Well, you spend the rest of your career ripping anyone who leaves your service; plow over anyone who breaks cycling's eternal shame of omerta; offer 1 single guy the chance for a Tour de France stage win after 7 seasons; and, the one time you're actually called on to play nice with a (now) better rider than you, slag him to the press, attack him on the road, and snub him on the podium. And that's just the people you're supposed to *like.* You're the most prolific Tour de France winner of all time, all right--too bad that don't win you class!

2. Johan Bruyneel. You're a Tour champ in your own right, and you brilliantly guided--by whatever means--the winningest streak in Tour de France history. And you've never stopped punishing those who came after him for it, including actively publicly berated the man who won you the Tour de France *again.* But when motivation-by-dope-slap failed? *That's* when you really got mean. How's that karma comin' back atcha right about now?

3. Pat "Dick" McQuaid. Doping's bad. Really bad. Especially if you're a no-name rider. Unless I like the rider. Then it's just a momentary lapse of judgment. Or didn't happen. Oh heck, why hurt the sport with all this tawdry mess? And if you apologize--better, cry--only after you've been busted, then you are not only morally superior but an absolute ambassador for clean sport. This, Pat, is why one of the most policed sports on earth is also one of the most ridiculed. Just *fake* some freakin' objectivity if you have to, willya?

4. Riccardo Ricco'. Y'know, I almost left him off the list out of the goodness of my heart, because he did almost accidentally kill himself with his fecklessness. But then I thought of his snotty disregard for his loyal teammates, the way he disgraced the mentorship of the great Gilberto Simoni, how he hid behind his mamma's skirts like some spindly wussbag, how he (dang, we're not done *yet*?) immediately threw the mother of his child under the bus and literally fled for the hills when *she* got busted for doping, and finally, the way he betrayed the anti-doping legacy of the late, great Italian trainer Aldo Sassi, who tried to rehab the ungrateful little SOB in one of the last acts of his professional life, and I thought, screw that! The "Cobra"? Yeah, you're a snake all right--there, you've earned your place in cycling history, you jack!@#!

5. Floyd Landis. I must say, I *was* a big fan once, so it truly pains me to do this. And he's repented and paid his dues, which is good, *and* smacked Armstrong, which I heartily appreciate. But the Floyd Fairness Fund was one uncool scam, and you took advantage of some really, really nice people. Better to just pull a Vinokourov, admit you're a slimeball, but point out you're no worse'n anybody else and why the hell should *you* be the scapegoat--and *then* ask for the dough. Hisssssssssssss!

6. Raimundo Rumsas. Telling the narcs you tested poz for coke because your grandma accidentally bought you some tainted candy in South America? Hey, could happen to anybody. Telling the narcs the dope in your trunk was for your drug-snarfin' grandmother's personal use? Punk-!@#. I suppose she explains the testosterone works-patches in your bathroom, too?

7. Dr. Manolo "Gyno to the Male Stars" Saiz. You got busted with a suitcase full o' cash and 46 bloodbags at a cafe'. And Roberto Heras made you do it? Man up you greedy dope-dealing wuss!

8. Maurice Garin. It's the 1904 Tour de France. 2,429 kilometers. Six stages, one mountain, five flat. Attacks by masked men, mysterious flats, illegal food, nails spread on the road. And one *really* major wanker: 1903 and 1904 GC champ Maurice Garin, DQd along with the next 4 finishers for taking a train. You think Landis/Pereiro and Contador/Schleck were big deals? Two words, honey: amateur hour. After extensive evidentiary hearings, 5th place finisher Henri Cornet is awarded the win. Great precedent you started there, Garin!

And, Yer Bonus Gallery of !@#holian Gestures!
1. Lance Armstrong, Floyd Landis, Brasstown Bald, "the Look." Is it *possible to win without being a jerk?
2. Dagnabit, Cav at the Tour de Romandie. Not sporting, old sport!
3. Alberto Contador. Every freakin' win. Do you *want* McQuaid to keep suckin' you dry like a vampire bat after every stage? Cut it with the "Pistolero" crap!

Well, folks, them's my picks, and I'm sure I missed *some* spectacular jerkwads. So 'til next week, when Johan throws someone under the bus again--that's all (mine) folks!

How Do You Spell "Implode"? R-A-D-I-O-S-H-A-C-K

And, Armstrong Sics the Pit Bulls: yes, having sworn any further investigations into his alleged career-long systemic doping would be met with a shrug, a smirk, and wholly bored silence, Lance Armstrong has apparently changed his mind: not only has he changed his snarling mantra from a carefully-worded "I never tested positive" to a definitive "I never doped", but he's gonna find the "anonymous" !@#$er former teammates who ratted on him and make sure they, like Tyler Hamilton, never take a whiz in peace in a public men's room again. Dang, just when I thought we were done hearing from him about this !@#$! Anyway, the debate over whether USADA oughta go after him rages on, with former rivals like Simeoni and Andreu raising their heads blearily from their current gigs scrubbing floors to express surprise, the usual Lance-lovin' zombies leaping to his all-caps defense on every website, and his despised haters--you know, those bitter talentless loser miscreants who prefer clean cycling--conceding that while even they're sick of this stupid crap and would enjoy watching an actual race for once, openness and catharsis can only be good for the sport, its undoped practitioners, its fans, and its aspiring greats-of-tomorrow. Me--I'd rather the lid be blown off the whole dirty scene no matter who's done it and how disappointed we'd be to hear their names, on one condition--that everyone stop acting like it wholesale stopped in 2008, acknowledge that some stunning percentage of greedy cheatbags are still gonna try it and in fact are trying it right this very minute, and quit pretending that just admiring a few sunny squads and holding 'em up as moral examples justifies stickin' our heads back in the sands like we do after every Festina/Op Puerto/CERA variant/egregiously reckless Riccardo Ricco' fades under our excitement over the newest grand tour rock star. Can we all agree to at least try that?

So the question is, after Travis Tygart is done dodging rotten vegetables, what happens to Lance and his record-breaking seven maillots jaune? Let's face it, why bother with a formal stripping of titles--who the hell we gonna give 'em to, Ullrich? (Of course, if we want to give, say, his 2002 edition to Joseba Beloki, I'll concede the perfect wisdom of that point.) I'd say about all we can do this late in the game with one guy personally is to put a big fat asterisk next to all his victories in the history books, affirm unapologetically that being a genuinely inspirational and life-changing spokesperson on a crucial cause doesn't entitle anybody to claim overall sainthood for something else entirely, and, if he *does* go after guys who have been nothing but loyal and subservient to him for darn near a decade if they had the gall to finally draw a line at lying under oath, make sure they're treated fairly (if not incongruously lauded, either) for coming forward. Why the hell else would anybody bother in the future? On the broader front, the only solution I can see is holding the teams and their management responsible--because besides saying no to an icon and power-broker like Lance or even any rider bigwig, it's gotta be damn intimidating for some jailbait neo-pro Tour de France dreamer to even think of objecting to systemic dope-dealing by the DS who just gave them a job and can easily tank their incipient career. You hear that, Johan--one strike, and you're out for life! So good luck now and in the future, USADA--you know how history has treated the messengers!

House of Pain: speaking of Bruyneel, who absolutely proclaims his complete purity, the all-star 70s disaster movie that is Team RadioSkank continues to steamroll onwards, with current team sponsors and their Schleck-lovin' boss already throwing Johan under the bus, the normally-quiet man-o'-experience (and as Ullrich's ex-right-hand-man, he sure is experienced) Andreas Kloden breaking his self-imposed silence to opine that teams who don't all actively hate each other tend to perform at a wee bit higher level, and Chris Horner, of all people, aggressively waiving the flag for Lance's total innocence and smacking back at Klodi for unprofessionalism for, y'know, stating the truth. Jeez, even *I* don't know whether to buy another box of popcorn or look away in horror at this point!

Uh, I'm Riding! Over Here! On My Bike! You've Heard of These Things, Like In a Race?: finally, as the Tour de France shapes up and the Olympic rosters are announced, I gotta say, Taylor Phinney is a fantastic young rider, will undoubtedly figure prominently in the history books, and has surely earned all the accolades he gets--but just as I was gonna go on a rant how Dave Zabriskie's getting completely screwed being denied the single time trial slot, comes USA Cycling's press release that Dave, along with Hincapie, Leipheimer, and Vande Velde, all former teammates of guess-who--asked to be left out of the Olympic team. Holy !@#$, Dave--I know you're riding the Tour and will be justifiably knocked out and all--but really, is that assclown Armstrong worth *this*? You *blow*, Lance--just *look* at all the havoc you've wreaked with your selfishness!

On Second Thought...Tell 'Im To Stuff It, Horner!

Uh, Sorry Dude: well, that didn't last long: poor Andy Schleck has been diagnosed with a sacral pelvic fracture from his worse-than-thought crash in the Dauphine', and is officially out of the Tour de France. On the plus side, Andy'll be back in action just in time for a showdown-o'-truth at the Vuelta a Espana with returning Tour de France rival Alberto Contador. Y'know, aside from the fact that Horner deserves to go anyway, based on his own palmares if big brother Frank weren't so busy keeling himself over shlepping Golden Boy around, Frank'd actually be able to come up pretty strong in his own right--after all, he has. So I say, let Chris and Frank duel it out for supremacy. Horner always rocks, but Frank's got him on actual grand tour GC results, and actually didn't look like such crap at the Tour de Suisse this week. Of course, swords or those clunky ol' pistols are hard to come by these days, but if they won't agree to do it the gentlemanly way, I suppose slugging it out on the bike is a reasonable alternative. Go Chris--and alternately, if it's just classic mano-a-mano, I bet 50 bucks that scrappy Horner takes down that gangly aristocrat like a ton (well, half-ounce) o' bricks! Here, the x-rays: Sincerely, get well soon Andy--and Johan, nice work the last couple days you soulless goon!

Johan Bruyneel Is A Complete And Total Tool

Punk-!@# Move of the Year: look, Johan, I know you've got to justify the truly sick wad of dough you've had to spend on those enormous cash-sucking 2012 disappointments, the Schlecks. And sure, Chris Horner's older'n Moses. But what he's not, and what you are, is a total backstabbing bitch. What kind of bull!@#$ move is that to let someone who's busted his !@# for you, someone who's been nice to Lance Armstrong for you, someone who rode through a potentially catastrophic concussion on a stage he doesn't even remember for you, know that you're keeping him off the Tour team by his wife freakin' reading it on the internet? What a !@#damn wuss you are! Worse, you didn't even man up enough to say you didn't think he was strategically not the best choice for the team, the sponsor threatened to rip your nuts off--whatever was true, it might've been disagreed with, but anybody can respect honesty--so why, especially when you've been publicly dope-slapping the Schlecks every five minutes for being boo-boo-whinging crybaby simp-toddlers, are you gonna blame Horner from having a back problem he says he's been riding a century every damn day through? Oh, sure, Johan heard the hate and "clarified" that Horner was told to be at the Tour de Suisse or stay home--but you've been telling the Schlecks all season to quit sucking, and you're still still letting *them* go! You *blow* Johan--now own your mind-boggling low-class crappiness to a stand-up guy before he supersizes himself at McDonald's the rest of the season in gloomy self-pity, and apologize you tool!

George Hincapie and the One That Got Away: in other bummers, ever-underrated strongman George Hincapie is retiring, and while certainly his rock-solid ever-grateful Lanceian loyalty has always been a puzzlement to me anyway since it took LA like 14 seasons to even allow the man a Tour stage, I gotta say, it may be time, but it's the peloton's, and tifosi's, loss. He's totally sacrificed his own ambitions for others despite a huge natural (and hard-trained) personal talent, he's aggressively mentored younger riders, and he's remained optimistic, polite, and discreet in the face of a lot of crap he didn't cause. George, I'm sorry your bike exploded, 8 billion yokels crashed ahead of you and held you up, and you got devoured by a pack of snarling wolverines so that you never actually got to win Paris-Roubaix--but thanks for some pretty stellar memories!

Cav Hits the Slimfast: finally, Mark Cavendish apparently isn't satisfied merely being one of the great sprinters of all time, because now he's decided that his butt's too big to drag up the climbs, as well, and is perusing a lifetime supply of insecurity-inducing women's mags for weight-loss tips. Is it me, or is he already (1) not that big for a sprinter already; and (2) whatever-many kilos of solid muscle as it is? Don't sacrifice your power for lightness, Cav--like Petacchi and Hushovd before you, you may just age-and-experience into being a better mountain man anyway, so why not enjoy what even I've gotta salute as pretty darn perfect as long as you can?

Yer Holy !@#$ of the Week: Peter Sagan at the Tour de Suisse. Am I the only person thinkin' there's a whoooooole lotta guys on competing teams just wetting their chamois at the thought of this guy up against 'em all season?

Yer Thoughtful Analysis o' the Week: What the !@#$ Is Wrong With the Brothers Schleck?

Let's be fair: on paper, Frank and Andy Schleck are admirably accomplished. National champions (okay, Luxembourg), a buncha Classics, stage wins and an overall win at the Tour de France (I know, PJ, not really!), and Giro and Tour podiums before Andy was even out of diapers. But in reality, we know the problem: compared to the hype on 'em, these guys are !@#$ups. Why, and what can we do to help 'em turn it around? Here:

1. Leopard Trek. A great idea, but it wasn't given enough time to develop. And frankly, when you've got Fabian Cancellara workin' for ya, yer average beer-guzzling pudge-gutted nacho-scarfin' American sports nut, much less an actual cyclist, oughta be able to sit there in his Barcalounger with his finger up his nose scratchin' for canapes and still put in a fine placing in a road race. Solution: dammit sponsors are instant-gratification crybabies, give 'em two seasons to develop next time whyndontcha?

2. They're Codependent. There's brotherly love, and there's brotherly luuuuuuuuuuuuvvvvvvvv. Frank's been catchin' you worms too long, Andy. And as a little sister, I do understand. But it's time to spread those little wings and fly on your own. Solution: Separate squads and a little healthy family rivalry. One of you's gonna have to suck it up and try to beat the other guy!

3. Time Trials. Look, all the practice in the world can't turn this lovably gangly dork into the compact muscular efficiency of a Cadel or the preying-mantis sleekness of a Dave Zabriskie. But !@#dammit, *someone's* gotta be able to shave off a few seconds for this boy *somewhere*. Solution: bike-fit gurus, I have it on completely legitimate authority (uh, mine) that Johan Bruyneel will personally pay you 1 million buckaroos for the perfect machine. Hell, he's losin' more'n that on Andy at the moment, right?

4. Descents. Il Falco he ain't. And descents *are* scary--for good reason. But they can be learned. And if you can't get down the Galibier without gripping onto the tarmac with yer teeth, fingernails, eyeballs, and nether hairs, you're doomed to lose. Solution: start low. Strap the kid flat on a skateboard at the top of an Alp, pat his hand for comfort, and give 'im a good hard Olympic-luge-style push. At worst, he can only fall two inches to the ground, so he'll soon get his confidence after a coupla 70 kph switchbacks. Voila'!

5. Denial. It's rainy. It's sunny. It's windy. It's calm. I'm still smarting from the ultra-wedgie Johan Bruyneel gave me this morning. Andy, as even you've finally acknowledged, at some point you gotta *own* this pup. Contador and Cadel have got something on you, and you need to figure out what pronto. Solution: Alexandre Vinokourov. He'll either dope you, berate you, or break your kneecaps with his bare hands, but one thing he *won't* let you do is whinge (did I get that right dear Brits?) to the press like some aristocratic inbred ascot-wielding tea-drinkin' weenie. START WINNING YOU WEAK-WILLED BASTARD OR I'LL FEED YOU TO THE SHARKS LIKE A BLOODY CHUNK OF CHUM!

6. Security. No Kim, no win. You don't separate Linus from his blanket, Schroeder from his piano, or, god forbid, Tommeke from his smoothie-smooth masseuse. Johan, the chemistry just ain't workin'. Quit bein' a beeyotch and let Andy have Kim Andersen in the team car. After all, let's cut to the chase here, the boys were better before they started on your squad. Am I right, or what?

7. RadioSkank. You boys just aren't Lance Armstrong, and no matter what you accomplish for him or for you, Johan will never, ever forgive you for it. He'll never forgive *anyone* for it. Look what happened to Contador for chrissakes! Solution: get out, out, OUT!

Well folks, them's mine, and their guaranteed road to success. If you got another way(s) to fix the Schlecks, spit it out--they need all the help they can get!

D Is For Doping, That's Good Enough For Me

Or Just Dopes, Whatever: yes, in yet More Disgusting News That's Never Gonna Affect Lance Armstrong No Matter What, the narcs apparently spent some time last month interrogating official Lance mastermind Johan Bruyneel over that pesky ton or so of unapproved and wholly-unnecessary medical waste found in Astana's 2009 Tour de France garbage, which, if Johan is to be (entirely reasonably) believed, our brilliant yet unusually clueless leader knew absolutely nothing about. Heck, if *I* had millions of euros *and* another Tour de France win *and* my legacy as one of the greatest managers ever *and* Lance's whole entire legacy riding on the cleanliness of *my* riders, *I* wouldn't be interested in what they're doing with enough drugs to stoke the entire Spanish peloton for a year, would you? Of course, it's entirely a moot point anyway, because (1) let's face it, UCI wouldn't bust Lance Armstrong for drugs if he personally sauntered back and forth before the press corps with a giant IV flapping out of his !@# every morning at sign-in time, and (2) Johan'll just say it's Alberto Contador's stash anyway. Damn, and to think a team led by Alexander Vinokourov could actually look cleaner'n last year's model!

I See London, I See France, I See Pat "Dick" McQuaid's Underpants: meanwhile, the smug French narcs continue to out-PR the hapless rider-slurpin' suckups at UCI, today slamming the oft-trumpeted biological passport as essentially useless a mere 24 hours after eliciting hysterical shrieks of "bull!@#$!" for also pointing out that it seems, well, implausible that there were absolutely zero dopers--including among the teams with the doping refuse right out in the open, never mind what they disposed of more discreetly--at the 2009 UCI-controlled Tour, as whenever AFLD does the testing, like they did in 2008, riders drop like Raid-soaked flies. Me, I'm siding with UCI--I mean, *everyone* knows the peloton's been utterly clean since at least post-season 2008!

Prison Song: in legal news--and no, I'm not announcing the formation of a new "Floyd Fairness Fund," tho' I will accept your cash and hell, I haven't even lied to you--looks like the Austrians have cleared elder Tour cheats Bernard Kohl and Michael "Feed Me!" Rasmussen of organized doping charges and, even better, legendary Italian sprint stud Mario "the Chest" Cipollini, lately accused of tax evasion, has been exonerated of that heinous crime as well. Aw, it's almost too bad, don't you think?--SuperMario would have looked so feral in prison stripes!

Killing Me Softly: for those of you who've been wondering what we-still- love-so-go-to-hell/4(yes, *4*)-time Vuelta winner Roberto Heras is doing (shut up!), he's taking on a prestigious race in Mongolia for which, I will have you naysaying jerkface weenies know, he is the favorite. Goddammit, Roberto, I *told* you to pull a Basso and start kissing babies the second your drug poz broke--*see* where ignoring my advice has gotten you?

Back the !@#$ Off Carlos, Already!: finally, as dear little disc-herniated Carlos Sastre (and what a bad-!@# to still come in 8th at the Giro, no?) pleads desperately to be left alone for six seconds to let his back heal, can Cervelo--which already ditched its perfunctory lying "his health is all that matters" crap and named him to its Tour de France short list anyway--please lay off the pressure already? Wah, you need the sponsorship exposure for the Tour, wah--not only would this option let Carlos ride the smashing Vuelta which I am sick of everyone dissing and give Samuel Sanchez a worthy companion on the podium, but Thor Hushovd's already going to take home the green jersey anyway so there's really nothing for you wanks to whine about. Remember this, Cav?