It's Yer Merry Festivus Gift List for the Peloton!

Yes, it's the holidays, that glorious time of year when we wish good will to all our brethren and sistren, except Team Sky who's relentlessly crushed the fun out of all the Grand Tours with their boring lifeless death-by-power-meter approach so they suck but everyone else we'll cut some slack.  So who's been naughty or nice this season, and what do we gift 'em? Enjoy, dear peloton--you deserve it!

1. Gianni Moscon: how many racist sucker-punching wankmeisters does it take to change a lightbulb? Who cares, but I'll tell you what that kid *does* need--a damn muzzle. And viewing his latest obscene gestures to the cameras straight from the warm-'n'-fuzzy lovefest that is team camp, we should damn well slap on some mittens, too.  Now *don't* take 'em off til you've learned yer lessons, ya little punk!

2. Floyd Landis: All I need are some tasty waves, a cool buzz, and I'm fi--oh wait, that's Jeff Spicoli. Let's just deliver this new team boss, and pleasingly perpetual annoyance to Lance Armstrong, a truckload of Doritos to go with his boatloads of bud!

3. Mikel Landa: the 2019 Giro.  Because until you get one, Unzue is *never* gonna 100% back you for the Tour, the new stupid "two team captain" strategy is *still* gonna fail, and you will always, *always* be !@#$ed.  We love you Mikel, you can do this--just maybe scarf an extra espresso before all those extra time trials this year and it's yours!

3. John Degenstache: damn, I'd love him to win Paris-Roubaix this coming year!

4. Peter Sagan: impeccable bike-handling skil--no, he got that.  A screaming horde of fanboys'n'girls second only to the Beatles--yeah, done and dusted.  More moolah in endorsements than god--mmm-hmm, been there already.  World cham--no, he has like a million o'those.  Aw hell, he doesn't need anything--maybe give the boy a Tour de France mountain stage, just to mix it up a bit!

5. Andre Greipel: a big ol' win on the Champs-Elysees.  Eat *that*, Lotto, you faithless goons!

6. Lotto-Whicheverscrewedhimover: a lump of coal.  You *suck* for jacking our big lug over!

7. Team Sky: Jiffy bags.  Ya gotta be running low by now, amirite?

8. Anna van der Breggen: La Course.  Because she was so, *so* close this year!

9. UCI: Salbutamol, or whatever performance-enhancing drug would give you the strength to bust anyone bigger'n some poor Master's racer for doping!

10. Alejandro Valverde: cripes, he's got the World Champion stripes and at least another 80 top years in the legs--I guess just that everyone won't have just ditched bicycles for flying cars and jet-packs by the time he packs it in?

11. Alexandre Vinokourov: Okay I don't really know what to get you Vino so please don't hurt me but PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE give Mikel Landa a nice contract and 100% Grand Tour backing, and lure that boy the hell outta Dodge!

12. Dave Brailsford: a crack legal team.  No reason--just good to have in your back pocket in case you ever need it!

13. Geraint Thomas: like, a nice little "participation" trophy or some such comforting trinket given to the kid who always gets picked last in gym class.  'Cause heck knows Froome ain't gonna let the mere defending Tour de France champion have another crack at it this July!

14. Our Baby Carrots: between Edu Prades, Oscar Rodriguez' stealth triumph, and every darn breakaway in every race you rode in--what more our future superstars need, except to continue on the same flower-strewn path?  A case of giant bottles of podium Champagne--you're gonna get 'em anyway, might as well enjoy 'em up front!

15. Marcel Kittel: a buzz cut.  I'm serious.  It's like a reverse Samson & Delilah thing--shave off the gorgeous pompadour, regain your winning ways. Worth a try, right?

16. Nairo Quintana: his mojo.  After Mikel Landa kicks his !@# at the Tour.

17. The Women's Peloton: a TOUR DE FRANCE. Not some bull!@#$ pacifier snoozer-to-watch throwaway circuit race, a REAL FREAKIN' TOUR DE FRANCE. !@#dammit, are you people *trying* to make me doubt the existence of Santa Claus, how much longer do I have to ask for this?!

18. Finally, My Dear Readers (Both of You): look, what with everyone *still* reeling from Alberto Contador's retirement and that catastrophic stick-figure's victory at the Giro, it's been a tough 'ol 2018. May all your cycling dreams, at least those of which I would approve, come true!

All right kids, that's about as much genuine goodwill as I can put out there in one go without passing out.  So crank those maudlin tunes, lift that tasty spiked nog, and Merry Festivus and Happy New Year to all of you!

!#$!, What's the Return Policy on a 6.3 Million Euro Pro Cyclist Again? Oleg Tinkov Freaks Out

Desperado: yeah, it's lookin' desperate over at Rancho Tinkoff all right, as rakish-n-almost-resultsless Peter Sagan blows Oleg's--uh, his own--first big goal of the season at Sanremo with an indifferent 4th and, at the start of his second pre-Tour showdown with Chris Froome at the Volta a Catalunya, Giro-Tour double hope Alberto Contador sez he's got a baaaad cold, so don't expect too much outta him either. Translation: the team is !@#$ed, Oleg's got no idea what to do about it, Bjarne's sacked, and Oleg's now gotta figure out some non-mutilating way to inspire his high-paid starlets but quick. !@#$, Oleg, if Alberto can't handle one cold day at Tirreno this year, what the hell do think a full-on blizzard at the Giro is gonna do to his Tour chances? Dammit, am I the only one thinkin' that if the season gets on this way, we're just gonna have Froomey and Nairo for the final maillot jaune in Paris, and that freak Valverde is gonna nail the 3d spot on the podium *again*? Fix this Oleg--I don't know if we can take this !@#$ much longer!

Degen-Stone-Kolb-Killer: meantime, the glow hasn't quite yet faded off the fine John Degenkolb's Milan-Sanremo triumph, and with this smashing run to the line after half the faves went down on the Poggio, it's easy to see why. Nice job big guy--and Cav, feel better next year!

Electric Avenue: and, after a scathing report excoriating the biopassport as a handy doping baseline (told ya), TUEs as total bull!@#$, and new-gen doping pounding the crap obsolete testing equipment, UCI's taking serious action: testing 36 *bikes* for mechanical doping at Milano-Sanremo. For !@#$'s sake, you oughta be looking for the needle marks on the riders' !@#es, not the wiring in the !@#$ing top tubes! And we *don't* need you clowns giving certain riders who creep the hell outta the whole lot of us any freakin' ideas while we're at it...

The Sky Is Falling (A Lot)! Gorilla Glue! Tom Thumb! Purito! Degen-kold-stone-killer! A Danged Mess for the Roadies

Carnage on the Cobbles! Well, it was a crash-filled finish--and a crash-filled road to get there--at the venerable men's Gent-Wevelgem this morning, as Sky boys were flying into ditches or into concrete all over the road, the race kept stopping dead around mid-group pile-ups, and Cancellara and half the other strongmen who looked to thrash it out for an incredible sprint were caught behind a road-diving Tyler Farrar and his collateral damage Andre Greipel, who remarked thoughtfully of his likely broken collarbone and certain screw outta the rest of the Classics, "It's not normal. Fuck." A man of few yet effective words, that Gorilla! Already riding wounded but nonetheless grabbing an impressive fifth: thumb-smarting big Tom Boonen. Triumphant or at least still standing: a victorious and always-underrated John Degenkolb (and a very lively reaction from his team car), Demare, and a really bummed (for the second time this week alone) Peter Sagan. On the women's side (and only the third edition of the race for them at all): an upright finale, so you gents might want to take some stability tips from the ladies, and a road-rippin' finish for US's Lauren Hall. Woo-hoo Hall and Degenkolb--and Sky, whatever the hell happened to Ian Stannard and the rest of you, I hope you're taped up pieced back together pain-medsed and back in action soon! No video of the women's finish as usual, but at least we got the podium, and where those guys with high heels tiny skirts and lots of lipstick are is beyond me: And here's the men's action:

*Now* Can They Get Some Hot Cocoa?: meantime, over at the Volta a Catalunya, the half-frozen Grand Tour contenders finally made their way in over a nasty 8 circuits, with Purito Rodriguez takin' the whole show despite a desperate final attack by Contador while Alberto and Chris Froome still enjoyed the lion's share of the attention, Alberto got the reassurance of clutchin' his few extra seconds over Froomey, and Froomey still gets to lord his 2013 win over Alberto ahead of July. I'm callin' that just about even! Now, the trippy tribute to last-stage winner Liuwe Westra:

Screw You, UCI!: and, a giant "bite me!" to UCI for bamfoozling poor Pippo Pozzato, still confused by UCI's picky new rules over when you can and can't evade the cobbles for the nice smooth roadside, which might've come in handy, say, today if he and the furry Luca Paolini hadn't gotten jerked to a stop behind a mass pile-up at Gent-Wevelgem. What's next UCI, no more sneakin'in a forbidden late-race bidon or hoping your aero position hides you from the helicopter cameras while you draft for twenty minutes behind someone else's team car? Oh, just rip the very spirit of sportsmanship outta the sport, whyndontcha...

And, Yer I'm-Gonna-Regret-Puttin'-This-Up-On-The-Internet-Someday Pic o' the Race: Fran Ventoso, a tad scraped(but luckily not a bit broken) after Gent. Dang, I hope it's legal for this guy to take an aspirin!

It's Yer Milano-Sanremo In Preview!

All right, baby, now it's time for the Monuments--so let Milano-Sanremo begin!

The Route: it's flat! no, it's hilly! !@#$, let's just throw in the Alpe d'Huez! Sure, the course has been changing every six minutes, due to landslides, weather concerns, and drunken beer-pong whims, but *something's* sure happening this weekend, and at the moment, it looks like this: Damn, can you guys at least straighten this out before the sprint teams set up their lead-outs towards the finish? Which brings us to...

The Contenders: yes, with the GT contenders largely opting out after the recent route changes (Vincenzo Nibali, intriguingly, excluded), Peter Sagan's the overwhelming fave, particularly if he decides to just bunny-hop the last kilometer to get to that ginormous pile o' dough aspirational 2015 boss Fernando Alonso's already got dangling for him at the finish line. But despite the withdrawals of folks like Phinney and Boonen, there's also a hot'n'formidable mix of pure sprinters, Classics stalwarts, and combo-fastmen, including Mark Cavendish, know-it-all-journo's dark-horse darling John Degenkolb, 2012 rainbow jersey Philippe Gilbert, Andre Greipel, and surprise defending champ Ciolek, which can still be thrown into total chaos depending on...

The Weather: forecast: crap! Rain? Check. Wind? Oh yeah. General misery? On tap! The good news: it oughta be slightly less cold than last year's sub-arctic hypothermiafest, in which, you'll recall, Taylor Phinney's frozen jersey had to be blow-torched off his body apres-race on the team bus. This was fun, right? So count yer blessings in advance the whole lot of you, and quit yer whinin'! So what's...

The Upshot: The Cipressa. The Poggio. Not, to the dismay of climbier sorts and the joy of La Classicissima purists, the Pompeiana. The last k: a downhill throw before the final argy-bargy to the line. And forget who *will* win--for my money, and I'm not not a swooning fan-crush here, though I am highly respectful--Fabian Cancellara *should* win, because, merit aside (and merit is already huge, let's face it), as you can see here, the man is a complete class act from start to finish when it comes to appraising his rivals. Forza Fabs--but either way, I expect a thrilla!

And just in case you forgot, last year's finale: It's time for one of the best races of the entire year--bring it *on*!

Fun 'n' Backstabbing With Team Sky; Boonen Plans His Comeback; and, Honk (Well, Sign) If You Love Blood Bags!

Kolb Comfort: well,that was a heck of a sprint today at a soaking-wet Giro, as a huge crash on wet paint stripes decimated the field in the final gallop and an absolutely gutted John Degenkolb took it home. Miraculously, the GC contenders all made it in without hardly a dent, particularly good for dear Samu' since our Euskaltel hero's already lost crashed-whammed Pablo Urtasun. Here, the carnage: And, just how tired our poor winner was: . Sure, you can say it was grit, determination, and luck--me, I say it was the porn-stache!

Kalifornication: no, he won't be at the Tour of Cali to make his competitors quake in their bike shoes nor to dazzle the fans, but Tom "Suck Season" Boonen will finally be back at the relatively wee Tour de Picardie. Cav, through the lousiest of circumstances, it looks like you've bought yourself a grade-A lead-out for July--just let him off the least once in a while, willya!

Endless Love: and, the love-in just continues over at Team Sky, with Richie Porte signing on for another 2 years with his own Grand Tour ambitions just as Wiggo thought he was gonna finally be rid of the intra-team competition as soon as Froomey bails for unquestioned supremacy elsewhere, and Brad's Colombian domestiques denying reports that they went all Froome on Wiggo as soon as he started dropping his helpless butt off the back of the pack yesterday. Don't worry, Brad--once you wipe those boys out in the time trial, all they can hope to do is bushwhack you for a coupla stage wins anyway!

The Hell With "Autographs": yes, sign here to save the Operacion Puerto blood-bags before the Spanish courts have 'em destroyed! The tally: a truly impressive 20 for Francisco Mancebo; a neat 10 apiece for Jan Ullrich and attempted-but-never-ever-successful-doper Ivan Basso, and, well, I'm guessing *something* for pretty much the entirety of Liberty Seguros. Emerging tranquillo: ol' Contador play-date LL Cool Sanchez, apparently suspended from RaboBlanc of all moralizing bull!@#$ers over a single stoked-up (alleged!) bag-in-storage but now cleared to race the Tour of Belgium thanks to a little threat o' arbitration. Oh for !@#$'s sake, the clowns *you* coddled for years *after* Puerto decimated the peloton, and you're ticked at some then-powerless jailbait nobody back in the day? Allez Luis Leon--hell, you're not half so bad as some of the remaining weasels-on-wheels left today!

So who'll have the maglia rosa at the end of Saturday's stage? Enter here to prove your dexterhood and win!