Oh No We Love Thor Hushovd's Really Retiring! #thankyouthor

Yep, I've been in deep denial, both over the actual end to his career and his damn-well-looked-like-the-end-of-his-career-for-all-the-luck-he's-had-at-BMC for former holy crap he's the World Champion we love Thor Hushovd, but our big lug's turn in the peloton is officially over, so I thought I'd list just a few of his accomplishments here:

1978: Thor Hushovd is born in Grimstad, Norway. At age two, receives 52-cm road bike for birthday, but it's 2 cm too small for him.

1998: New pro Thor wins baby Paris-Roubaix. Watch out already, future Classics wannabes. After winning U-23 time trial championships, though, career in discipline derailed as he squashes every ultra-light time trial bike his sponsors try to make for him.

2001: And he's off! Thor takes first major win in Tour de Normandie and shares team time trial stage-winning victory in Tour de France.

2002: Stage wins ain't just for group rides, honey: Thor grabs first individual Tour de France win ever. Way to go big guy!

2004: Thor takes first of 4 Norwegian national road champ victories, another stage win at the Tour, and his second stage at the Dauphine.

2006: At Tour de France, some dipwad waving a lethal machete of a stupid plastic promotional item at the barriers hits Thor with a slasher-movie gore-gash to the arm; Thor still finishes 9th on the day and later takes his second stage win of the Tour. For next year, races with heavy protective "Popemobile" plexiglass shield around bicycle. And how many stages at the Dauphine has he grabbed now?

2007: Thor gets a stage in the Giro, wrapping up the Grand-Tour trifecta.

2009: The Thunder God takes the green jersey at the Tour de France. Eat that, Cavendish!

2010: Yeah, he's the World Road Champion! How do you like *them* stripes, beeyotches?

2011: Third time's the charm: three stage wins *and* a half-dozen days in the Tour de France maillot jaune. Boy looks good in gold, dontcha think?

2012: unidentified virus and BMC contract-o-doom take out his entire season. Oh go to hell, he's still better'n 99% of the riders on earth!

2013: Shut up! He's still sick but he wins the Norwegian national champs for the 4th time and takes overall in the bitchin' new Artic Tour of Norway, and a whole buncha 'nother stuff. You rock Thor!

2014: Thor announces retirement; Norway better be planning a giant bangin' sculpture for this guy somewhere. You got quite a palmares there, Thor--and who else in the peloton is ever gonna have such a bitchin' name again?


Next up for our hero: as you can see here, a pro contract with Team Godzilla in the controversial new sport of gila monster racing.

Thanks for many exciting years of racing, and good luck with your new gig ya big lug!

Samuel Sanchez Sez He's Gonna Retire! Someone Hire 'Im! Aiiiggghhhhhhhhh!

You Suck Oleg Tinkov!: all right, I've offered repeatedly to chip in to buy dear Samu' a new gig (sure, I've got like five bucks, but still it's a start), and have been met with absolute ennui, so now that a despondent Samuel Sanchez is giving it 10 or 12 days to find a new team before he hangs up his wheels for good--because he doesn't seem inclined to, say, have to take a year off the bike then see if he still score a space with Alonso--I'm making a general plea to everyone in the universe: someone hire Samuel Sanchez, dammit! Anyone! I'll sell my Euskaltel hat to raise cash! I'll hold a bake sale--and you folks *really* do not want to have to eat my baking! I mean, jeez, ProTour, even if your roster's filled with superstars and pack fodder you can at least find him a job as a really, really, really fast coffee-getter, right? And to everyone who contributed to we're still crushed by darling Euskaltel's downfall, which has left a whole 'nother group of very fine riders without jobs--screw you you !@##$ing !@^%$wads! Here, look at Samu cooking down the Galibier in 2011:

Uh-oh, *Someone's* in the Dog-House: in news about folks who already *have* contracts, all of whom except Jens I irrationally resent right at this moment, beloved big lug Thor Hushovd's conceded he's gotta pull in some serious results at BMC or else he's gonna have a beastly time staying with them or anyone else--I still believe in you Thor!--and Philippe Gilbert's outright saying that if he chokes this season after his difficult World-Champ year he's gonna bail outta the peloton entirely even if he's otherwise got options. I admire you as an athlete for wanting to retire when you've still got something in the tank--but I still think you'll cause everyone a lot of pain this year at the Ardennes!

Please Don't Eat the Daisies: and, UCI's finally conceded defeat on the issue of clenbuterol, warning riders of the risk of genuinely accidental guiltless positives from beef in China and Mexico, which, unfortunately, still leaves poor Alberto Contador down a Tour de France. So, we letting Mick Rogers off the hook now or what?

Four Days Til Decision Time for Euskaltel; the Vuelta Shapes Up; and, Thoooooooooooooor!

T minus Four for the Carrots!: yes, as sick, perverted rumors of Euskaltel riders signing for other, crappy, non-Euskaltel squads continue to pollute the cycling world, our beloved team's reportedly set to announce a decision on its future--one way or the other--on Thursday, which means either (1) party's at my place! or (2) you can peel my drunken, sobbing !@# off the booze-sticky bar of my local dive watering hole. In the meantime, loyal riders are denying ready contracts with other teams, and they're tearing up the tarmac in possible farewell to boot. !@#dammit, the sucky French squads that continue to get funded in this sport, and *these* guys can't find a sponsor--aiiiggghhhhhhhhh!

The Vuelta Contenders Tune Up: sure, featherweight climbing genius Nairo Quintana took the final stage and the whole Tour of Burgos, but he ain't riding the Vuelta, so for my money it's all about the contenders--and Vincenzo Nibali (just using it for Worlds training, he sez), Ivan Basso (just aiming for a podium, he sez), and Samuel Sanchez (too polite to speculate) are all lookin' pretty well even, tho' Vincenzo just tweeted he's ready 'n' rarin. Alejandro Valverde? On vacation, so he's still got a few days more to rest up get his legs in order--and learn to pay attention to the !@#$in' crosswinds I hope!

Wiggo, Wherefore Art Thou (for 2014) Wiggo?: and, as the Eneco Tour rolls underway this week, none other'n Sir Brad Wiggins is gracing the peloton with his presence, and if he's not too distracted jamming with whatever of-the-moment band has caught his fancy, perhaps he might weigh in on this: if domestique-o'-the-millenium Richie Porte is ready to take on GC at the Giro next year, and Froome of course will be defending (if he even has to, considering the results) his Tour de France, and Brad completely unable to keep up with Euskaltel in the vicious Vuelta mountains even if the squad's freakin' dissolved and not even there by then, what the hell *is* our first British Tour winner gonna do for a 2014 razzle-dazzle encore? Oh, *Cav's* got the grace to be a water boy with his unquestioned supremacy in other areas--but really, a Tour de France winner? Ah well, I suppose that sort of sportsmanship is something they teach 'im in knight school anyway....

I Can't Even Think of a Stupid Thor's Hammer Metaphor Right Now: last but not least, after a complete blow of a season, new Norwegian champ Thor Hushovd's finally officially got his groove back, nailing two sprints and the overall at the Arctic Tour of Norway. Hey, if lovable big lugs are on the upswing again, can Tom Boonen get his poor nuttal sanctity in order and stop this terrifying and disgusting suggestion of retirement already? Anyway, here, despite a notable lack of the typical annoying club music on the clip, hardy Thor just nips the win on the line: Welcome back Thor--I'm sure this bodes well for a bangin' 2014!

Giorgia! Tommeke! A Whole Buncha Races! Euskaltel!

Third Time's a--Holy !@#$ She's Fast!: yes, while the women's peloton fights for its Tour de France, right now it's at least got its Route de France, except that it pretty much belongs to Wiggle-Honda speeding bullet Giorgia Bronzini, who bagged her third straight stage win today as Emma Johansson somehow kept the GC. Tomorrow: the rest of the peloton kicks back with a beer and some nachos just shakin' their heads as she takes it, *again*. Brava Giorgia you bad-!@#!

Sittin' On the Dock of the Bay ('Cause He Sure Can't Sit on His Saddle): and, erstwhile Belgian studpup dear Tom Boonen, already beset with freak infections and other injuries all season, has been stricken *again*, now nutwhacked (literally) for at least a month by a vicious groinal saddle cyst. Reached for comment at home, Boonen reportedly said, "ow, !@#$!" Dang, first Basso, now Tommeke--good luck airing out the works Tom, and maybe think about changing yer chamois (and/or cremes) ahead of next season if yours ain't hitting you right!

Races!: meantime, as save-Euskaltel-dammit's Samuel Sanchez gets ready to slug it out with some other Vuelta faves at the Tour of Burgos, Thor Hushovd, hot off his two wins at the Tour of Poland, is now ready to take on the Arctic Race of Norway. Race highlight: the riders and hungry local polar bears go mano-a-claw for musettes in the midday feed zone on the clearly decisive Stage 2. Ride fast, boys--or else! Back here in the US, the Tour of Utah's already underway as Andy Schleck gets ready to be lionized for just hangin' in there at the upcoming USA Pro Challenge. Oh, come on, just let Jensie off the leash and let baby Schleck fend for himself--he'll be fine next season when he's got Frank back anyway!

Cannibals! Cannibals I Tells Ya!: finally, despite Euskaltel's smashing late season performance, rumors are increasing by the day as to where stars like Mikel Nieve and Igor Anton are gonna head next season, and frankly, if you're all too damn cheap to chip in with me to save the team, I say we just take the money buy a !@#$load of Basque wine and get freakin' loaded til the end of transfer season and all the WorldTour contracts are signed 'cause I for one simply can't take the pain. And at least we'll have something to toast the squad's fabulous farewell performance in the Vuelta! Oh, Santa Claus, Easter Bunny, Oleg Tinkov, *somebody*--save us loyal Carrot fans from this horrid fate and keep Euskaltel alive!

Euskaltel! Taylor! Thor! Nibali! Ullrich! A Brief (I Swear) News Roundup

Yay Carrots! Oh No Carrots!: yes, as brave team leader Samu' still sez he ain't lookin' for a new team yet, and the new sponsor search becomes ever more desperate, jailbait signing/Tour de France sprint top-4 (!) finisher Juan Jose Lobato bagged a bitchin' win today at Circuit de Getxo, so sponsors, give those guys some damn dough already! Downer: a downright pessimistic Igor Anton is already linked to Lampre, further decimating what's left of the squad. Upper: Samu is ready to pound the competition one more time at the Vuelta. Aupa Euskalteeeeeeeeeeeeeeeel--and someone save this team !@#dammit!

Taylor!: what do you get for a smashing leadout, redeeming yer loss-battered sprinter, and having both amazing guts and tactical sense, all before you're barely outta diapers? You get karma, baby--and here's Taylor Phinney's move for the Tour o' Poland stage win barely a second ahead of the pack! Get Thor another stage and you can have yourself a lolly...

Thor!: sure, he didn't make the BMC Tour squad--and a hell of a lotta good *that* did, by the way--and sure, he maybe only got his mojo back like a week ago when he grabbed the Norwegian championship, but big lug Thor Hushovd ain't finished yet--with, as noted, a great lead-out by Taylor at the Tour of Poland stage 3, he finally brought home the goods. Worlds, Thor--you oughta go for the Worlds--hell, it's not like you're Cav, you can climb!

Vincenzo!: meantime, the squadra azzurra for the Worlds is shaping up, with ct/former world champ we love Paolo Bettini deriding flashy tatted Ken-doll Pippo Pozzato as all talk/no action, Il Piccolo Principe Cunego as nowheresville, and Ivan Basso as--hey, at least Basso pulled off a Giro fairly recently! He will, though, put the full force of his flyweight behind Nibali, who, though a post-Giro publicity-tour pudgester, Paolo is confident'll be on sharp form in just a few days' training. Forza Nibali--and Pippo, maybe "only God can judge you," but Bettini's tryin', isn't he!

Jan Defends Armstrong: last but not least, you gotta give--well, somethin'--to erstwhile ex-doper Jan Ullrich, advocating passionately for the return of ol' rival Lance Armstrong's 7 Tour de France titles because "!@#$, it's not like they can give 'em to me." Oh, so he took a fridge's-worth o' dope every evening, wah wah wah--you tell me, is *that* support of his bud not sportsmanship!?

Wiggo In Denial, *Again*; Thoooooooooor!; and, Quick Step Goes All "Gangnam Style"

We *Get* It, Bradley, *Jaysus*!: All *right*, Wiggo. You're the only Tour de France winner in history never to want to win it again the least teeny tiny super-miniscule damn-near-invisible sub-atomic bit *ever*. And of course, we are convinced 100% that it has absolutely nothing with the 2012 Tour being a once-in-a-century course seemingly tailor-made just for you, the 2013 Tour being back to its usual hilly self once again, and the 2013 Vuelta set to be even more sadistic, if that's humanly possible, than last year's. Which is why you're so much happier maybe committing to help your TdF team captain/resentful ex-backup man Froome win the big maillot jaune if you feel like it and if you don't have something better to do like mow the lawn or trim your toenails or sit around in a pub crying your eyes out over a beer for three straight weeks in July. We *hear* you, we *believe* you, we swear it--now run off to Jan Ullrich for some tips on safely losing that surprisingly big off-season weight gain, and prove how much you want the Giro by laying it down on the tarmac in May, already!

It's Race Roundup Sunday!: and, suck it Hushovd haters--as if such an undead mutant twisted freak could actually walk the earth, but I digress--as Thor clearly puts his miserable 2012 in the past with a bangin' win at this weekend's Tour de Haut Var, the triumphant Froome exceedingly ticks off Contador, Tony Martin aims to scare the time trial right outta Cancellara this season, and, creepily disconcerting as always, Alejandro "How I Got Out of Yappin' Blood Bags at the Fuentes Trial Sure Beats the Hell Out Of Me, Too" Valverde himself taking the time trial at the Vuelta a Andalucia. Not that I'm suggesting anything here, Alejandro, but remember what happened to Schumacher when he started with that !@#$--dial it back a little, would ya, even if it *is* (as it certainly is) totally legit! And no, it weren't flashy, but here's Thor: Allez allez, big guy!

"Harlem Shake," Whatever: well, newly-serious Belgian studmuffin Tom Boonen may not be doing nekkid shower scenes or posting apres-race massages to porn music on-line anymore, but his Quick Step ("OPQS", whatever) squad has gamely taken up the mantle for him, with a surely prize-winning Dance Fever-worthy performance of their own. Well done, gentlemen--but don't you clowns even *think* of pulling a quad and hosing over Boonen or Cav unless it's during a race this season, you hear!

In (Increasingly Frustrated) Defense of Phil Liggett, *Again* (Yeah, So Bite Me! Go to Hell!); and, Thor for Four, Baby!

Oh, *Phil*: okay, let's get the latest news outta the way: Levi's been sacked, Nike (allegedly!) paid Verbruggen a cool half-mil to cover a doping poz, Frank's gonna get off for his diuretic poz, everyone who benefited from joining in Lance's disgusting doping is SO RELIEVED to tell the truth now that they officially get to keep the millions they earned off it, and the peloton has traded its charming multiplicity of languages in for the harmonious and near-universal sound of crickets chirping. Now, on to Phil. As dear reader karl kindly pointed out, Phil now concedes Lance may have done it. But--BUT--Lance is still a bitchin' asset to the sport. Aiiiggghhhh! Phil, you tryin' to *kill* me here? Anyway, the twit-sphere is going nutwhack, and folks, here's why I'm calling on you all to lay off: Phil Liggett is an innocent lamb who is only *just* realizing that that big hairy razor-toothed bastard across the pasture is a mean, nasty wolf all ready to eat 'im. In short, Phil just cannot help it. Yes, the paranoid conspiracy theory bull!@#$ was beyond--way beyond--the pale. But tell me, any of you, since you first fell in love with this sport--as a cyclist, or as a mindblown armchair athlete--have you *really* never once had a sense of romance about it? And if the romance wasn't ever about Lance the Triumphal Hero, not even over its weird cult of suffering, its pursuit of perfection, the terrifying joy of a 70 mph descent, the thrill of seeing a lone rider emerging triumphant and wholly spent at the top of one of the highest peaks of Europe? Hell, I'm still willing to buy that Iban was framed, Ullrich benefited from fattening up over the winter, Heras improved like a freak in the time trial by tweaking his position, and Dave Z was just high off of Pop Rocks. Yap, money, yap, reflected glory, yap--Phil is *heartbroken*, I tell you, and it's gonna take time for our dear Voice of Cycling to heal. Me, I suggest Irish whiskey, in quantity. But if takes Phil another Tour de France reminiscing over the '68 Chateau Lafitte Effete he enjoyed when Lemond won his first Tour or the charming castle he stayed at with Paul the very eve of Hinault's final win, for mercy's sake, just let 'im--who the hell can't sympathize with that?!

Thor for Four, Honey!: in *happy* news, meantime, we love Thor Hushovd is swearing to come back from his excruciating suckfest of a 2012 to take his dream Paris-Roubaix in 2013, and 2014, and 2015, *and* 2016, and no, he's not a decaying old mummy you haters, he had a virus !@#dammit! Hey, Gilbert came back, right?--allez allez Thor! Challenging Thor on the cobbles, however, is new World Champ/serious bad-!@# Marianne Vos, who's calling for all the Classics, Hell of the North of course included, to have women's races, since there's certainly no question she and a heck of a lot of other smashing riders can more'n conquer the long bone-rattling mudfests o' the cobblestones. Or I suppose Marianne could just "handle" a freakin' cobblestone right upside the race organizers' heads if they say no...

Last Call at the GC Cafe'; and, 1 More Day to Enter to Win!

It's the Bola del Mundo, Baby!: I'll give this to Alejandro Valverde (along with whatever else he's been given): whether it's gaining 3 seconds on a stage, like today, or 30, he ain't going down without a fight, so I expect 'im to give even tomorrow's excruciating climb relentless whacks for time til he completely cracks while Purito, I hope, will at least go for one last stage win. Y'know those Escher drawings with the staircases that go up and up and up til suddenly you're impossibly upside down? Yeah, that's the Bola del Mundo. Here, the profile: Hope y'all got fingernails, boys, 'cause when your legs and gears fail you you're gonna need 'em to claw up to the finish line!

Bite Me! Thor Was Sick!: okay, so we finally got our explanation for BMC's all-season suckfest: Thor and Cadel had viruses, and are curled up on their couches with their teddy bears before coming back to kick Classics and Grand Tour !@# next year. Get well soon guys--now quiet down and take your naps already!

Thanks, Pat "Dick", You Pig: well, nice work hosing women's cycling, you officious weenie--as if Pat "Dick" McQuaid's totally coincidentally proposing amnesty for busted dopers (at least, amnesty for the ones he's still in love with, since I see he's also now interested in what Lance's former teammates Dave Z Tommy Danielson and Vande Velde have to say)as soon as it looked inevitable that Armstrong was jacked and UCI was completely discredited as a pack of sycophant glory-slut cheat-enablers weren't bad enough--now Brit cycling Amazon Emma Pooley, tired of the women being forced to play ignored loser Ken to men's cycling's spectacular Barbie, is taking not only a likely year's sabbatical but also, possibly, calling it a damn career. !@@#$, people, would a guy of her stature have to bag her career because no freakin' team has decent funding--I mean, the !@#$in' Schlecks have jobs next year for !@#$'s sake!

One More Time, Honey!: and, as Liquigas studpuppy/2010 Vuelta champ Vincenzo Nibali is declared the lucky winner of our Week 2 Contest Three-Week Rider Insult Moratorium, there's one last chance to call the Vuelta, gain immortality, and make me be nice to someone I hate. Look, here's Vincenzo: ain't he cute? Anyway, enter here to win! a Rafflecopter giveaway

It's the Hell of the North, Baby!

Yes, it's time for the thrilling Paris-Roubaix, baby! and while there seems to be a distinct lack of freak-out excitement this year with Cancellara down and out and Boonen jinxed as presumptive champ before he even gets his chamois cream on in the morning, for my money, there's nothing more fun. Will last year's dark-horse winner Vansummeren make Thor Hushovd cry like a Millar and take it again? Will an ill-timed puncture give Ballan and Pozzato the chance to humiliate the Belgians mid-waffle? Will Stuey O'Grady get trampled by a raging random herd of zoo-escaped elephants and claw himself over the finish line by the mere strength of his nose hairs? These and all your other questions will be answered on Sunday, cycling fans, so here's yer official preview:

The Course: you know it. Riders fear it. And Boonen eats pave' for breakfast. 27 sections of rocky bone-breaking hell and the Arenberg at 80k to go. Here, the Sky boys check out the cobbles: Looks easy, right?

The Forecast: !@#$! Rain! Anyone else thinking last year's blinding dust-storm was a damn cakewalk in compared to tomorrow's inevitable cloud-borne carnage?

The Players: yep, the usual suspects. But also Flecha, Vanmarcke, Chavanel, Boassen-Hagen-Dazs, and for all we know some hapless terrified no-mestique from Team Holycrapishouldastayedhome could be the last man standing at the line. Oh, and Lance Armstrong'll be there, not that I'm tippin' off Landis or nothin'. Me, I love a surprise--oops, that'd be Hushovd this year!

The Prize: your collarbone still workin'? You won! Oh, and this thing: Sweet!

Onwards, upwards--and for lots of these poor guys, probably downwards--to Roubaix!

The Expert Opinion on Contador: Fry, Fry, *Fry*, You Little Freak!

At Least, I Think That's the Exact Quote: yes, I may be too stupid to understand the intricacies of "reticulocytes" and "holy moly, that !@#$ is good!", but I'm pretty sure antidoping lord Michael Ashenden isn't, and in the midst of resigning from UCI's bio passport panel because they're a pack of controversy-muzzling simp-weasels, he sez that while he might still be a liiiiiittle bit on the fence about the Clenbuterol thing, *something* about Contador's 2010 not-found-in-nature blood values--cross-referenced cross-checked hot-cross-bunned and crossword-puzzled--just ain't right. Totally coincidentally, Alberto has decided not to appeal his CAS verdict, and is just going to keep showing his penitence over his non-wrongdoing by tweeting training updates at Pat "Dick" McQuaid every six minutes in two languages and crushing everyone at the Vuelta after watching Andy Schleck get whacked at the Tour, *again.* So relieved to see the system's working--see you in August, suckers!

What the !@#$, Thor?: look, Thor, I've spent no small amount of energy defending you against dear readers who totally wrongly think you're a "whiner" and always making up excuses. So now your whole Classics season's crap form is because you just don't gosh darn like Flanders but you're hoping you'll pull something out of your !@# at Roubaix this weekend? Help me *out* here a little, bud, I still *know* you can triumph--that damn publicity photo of you in a wig and a skirt last season mentally whack you in the goods or something?

Spartacus Update: and, Fabian Cancellara has already recalculated his still-inevitable plans to take over the planet this season, springing back into action in May and ready to defend his Olympic time trial medal for at least the next 62 consecutive Games. In other good news, according to the x-rays, his collarbone looks to be back in one piece: Get well soon, Fabian--we already miss you, and they *need* you, man!

Stork Report: finally, many congrats to Mark Cavendish and Peta Todd on the arrival of their brand-new daughter, who, if her charming parentage is any indication, will be both adorable *and* mind-bogglingly fast. Look--the stork's already brought her her first bike!:

It's Yer Tour of Flanders Preview, Baby!

On to the Ronde!: yes, as evil computer-hacking criminal mastermind Floyd Landis gets a November appeal date in French court on the grounds he can barely master a rotary phone, much less infiltrate a seriously-secured computer network, and the past and present Barbie-sparkle-princesses at Lampre get ready to defend against systemic doping accusations, it's time for the Ronde van Vlaanderen, baby, so let's take a look at this weekend's bloody battlefest!

1. The Course: ow ow ow ow ow !@#$in' flat ow ow ow ow ow !@#$in' derailleur ow ow ow ow ow ow OW MY !#@$IN' COLLARBONE ow ow ow oh !@#$ I'm glad it's over! Oh right, and they've bagged the Muur and seriously shaken up the route. And it doesn't help *anyone.* Oh, and watch out for nails, suckers!

2. The Players:
--Fabian Cancellara: look, he's gonna kick someone's !@#$; it's just a question of when. If he gets more than two bike lengths on anyone, including Boonen, it's over. Plus, someone's gotta save RadioSkank's season!
--Peter Sagan: right, he's just here training. But damn, this boy's on form! The stealth candidate no-one ever seems to notice 'til he's already smooching the podium babes. Top 3!
--Thor and Gilbert: hard to believe Hushovd could be any more screwed than he was with Vaughters at ungrateful Garmin, but frankly, he ain't lookin' like I hoped. And hopefully Gilbert'll heal up from his toothache by the Ardennes. Come on come on come *on* Thor--what the hell?! And while we're at it, go Hincapie!
--The Dark Horses: yes, Stijn Devolder, Pippo Pozzato, Freire, and a slew of even more recent bad boys are there. And Sylvain Chavanel is blazin' if Boonen sacks out. Me, I like newbie Sep Vanmarcke--not yet maybe, but soon!
--Tom Boonen: Marked like dog on fire hydrant, but clearly, our charmer is back. It's this, or Roubaix. Take yer pick Tom, but one of 'em is yours! Here, let's encourage dear Tommeke by reminding him just how refreshing a long hot shower can be after a cold, hard race:

3. The Prize: well, apparently they used to give out massage oil, but these days, you have to settle for eternal glory. And a trophy. And podium babes!

4. The Latest Headlines: oh, those halcyon days when Bjorn Leukemans was gettin' so much action he couldn't keep his testosterone levels low enough to pass a doping test; now, the poor boy's a monk. Indeed, straight from the official Ronde site and the man himself comes this quote:"Whether I'm dry? Maybe You Should Ask My Girlfriend". Uh, no thanks Bjorn--but good luck in the race and all!

Off to Flanders--sticking it out til the finish line, that's a whole 'nother question!

It's the 2011 Racejunkie Awards!

Put on yer red-carpet gowns and spiffiest spats, dear reader(s), because it's the time of year to reward the sublime, the unsublime, and the just plain ridiculous in this magnificent sport of cycling, and therefore, without further ado, or cheesy Oscar-night dance routines, I hereby bestow the incredibly prestigious, passionately-sought-after, and potentially slanderous 2011 Racejunkie Awards:

The 2011 Doping Excuse o' the Year: okay, the transgression didn't actually *happen* in 2011. But let's face it, the droning "did not, either!"s coming outta the peloton for this year's pozes were a certifiable snoozefest. What wasn't? Michael "the Chicken" Rasmussen's "I Wasn't Cheating on My Bicycle, I Was Cheating on My Wife!" excuse for lyin' about his whereabouts to evade doping controls--uh, a major jealous-spouse nut-whack--before a way-old Tour de France. Geez, outta the frying pan and into the fire with that one, Michael--if she forgave you then, she probably ain't too happy you yapped her pain to cover your scrawny !@# with the narcs, I imagine!

Climber o' the Year: he's big. He's fast. He's Norwegian. And once he hits an incline bigger'n a speed bump, he's got no business being anywhere in the peloton but the !@#-end of the autobus. But yet, he took 2--count 'em, 2!--mountain stages in the Tour de France this year. Schleck, dreck--Thor Hushovd, this one's for you. You *go*, you big lug!

2011 Doug and Wendy Whiner Award: it's mountainy. It's descendy. It's time trially. I was supposed to win it. I'm still P.O.d about that chainy thing from two hundred years ago. Y'know, I've been a big advocate of both Schlecks in the past--particularly Frank, even tho' he's been alleged to make a few funny automotive detours during the Tour back in the day--but this !@## really ticked me off. Andy, the only thing Cadel oughta hear from you next July is "Congratulations!"

Soul-Crushing Transfer of 2011: need this even be put into words? 'Cuz it's already been scorched into my soul. Jens Voigt to RadioSkank. Whhhhhhyyyyyy? Whhhhhhyyyyyy? Whhhhhhhhhhhyyyyyyyyyyyy?

Punk-!@# Move o' the Year (Celebrity Intimidation Edition): rock-star Lance Armstrong corners newly-confessional Tyler Hamilton by the toilet like 11th-grade alpha-bitch on shy goth-girl at the Homecoming dance. What next, Lance, you gonna snap Floyd's !@# with a towel in the locker room?

Punk-!@# Move o' the Year (Total Management Diss Edition): Let's see. He's wearing the World Champion stripes with *your sponsor's* name all over 'em, he busts his works domestiquing yer other riders, he wins some pretty fine stages for you at the Tour de France, and what does he get? Right, squat, and the chance to be slapped around by Cadel & Gilbert at BMC all next year. Thor Hushovd deserves better. Bite me, Garmin/Vaughters!

Ow, @!#$! Hardman Award o' 2011: is this even a contest? Johnny Hoogerland's gruesome 45kph airborne date with a death-fence at the Tour--and he *still* powers through, to the just adoration of all cycling fandom. Get this boy a bottle o' pain pills and a coupla band-aids, stat!

Gee, Maybe the French *Don't* Suck So Bad Prize: Thomas Voeckler. Wow. Just...wow. Boy, did you make even Contador look like a putz!

What the !@#$ Is Wrong With You Freaks Award of 2011: lemme get this straight. Juanjo Cobo takes the Vuelta a Espana out of absolutely nowhere in an incredible show of heart and grit, and now even can't get a job wiping that blood-doping dirtbag Valverde's rear end? Cosmic justice, where art thou?

Dodgin' the Bullet Prize: sure, he may've shot himself full o' illicit crap in 2010, (or not! I'm sure it was the cow!) but hey, why let a little suspicion keep 'im from bagging two Grand Tours in the meantime? Alberto Contador, I guess that stupid "Pistolero" thing really *did* scare off the narcs!

Say It Ain't So Award o' the Year: Jeannie, Jeannie, Jeannie. You were a model elder stateswoman--but apparently not without help, tho' the sloppy French cops conveniently bungled the case against you quite nicely. Dang, you can't just use Botox or something to fake some youthful vigor?

Woo-Hoo! Moment of the Year: Cadel Evans wins the Tour. Nice guys (okay, he occasionally threatens to rip some journalist's arms off, but that ain't no nevermind) do finish first!

Disgusting Skankball o' 2011: in a wholly uncontested category, this goes to lying cheating pig Riccardo Ricco', who not only besmirched the name of a beloved, now late, trainer to the stars, but, on his triumphant and extremely clean return from a doping ban, managed to inject himself with a batch of bad old blood he apparently stored next to the moldering steak and expired yogurt in his fridge, making himself seriously ill in the process. I'm truly glad you're okay now, Riccardo--but please, go to back to whatever slime-pit you slithered from!

Complete Dumb!@# of 2011: d'oh! Ricco', it's a two-fer. You couldn't find *anyone* in the peloton to show you how to do that !@#$ right?

Rider Insult o' the Year: finally, in a related award, the hell with the Armstrong/Landis/Hamilton wars--by far the best (and most accurate) commentary o' 2011 came from Captain Discretion, Mark Cavendish himself, who not only called Riccardo Ricco' a "parasite," but charitably opined "I really do hope he becomes someone's bitch in prison." Well said, Cav--a fine sidenote to a spectacular season!

Well, congrats to all our lucky winners, and for those who missed the cut, better luck next year--I'm sure *some* of you guys will pull off something truly spectacular (in beauty or idiocy) next year!

2011: the Year in Review

All right folks, the curtain's about to drop on another year of cycling, and before we all get perma-blotto on too much good cheer and bad eggnog, it's time to recall the sublime, the ridiculous, and the downright disgusting that make this sport so easy to love:

January: Contador's banned! No, he's not! Yes, he is! make up your minds, you clowns!; Tour screws former champ dear little Sastre out of invite, nice work Geox!; Team LeopardSchleck debuts--what, a name like that and *still* your team kit's lame?

February: Floyd Landis interview out, cycling world hit by curious double-attack of projectile vomiting and ennui; Schleck's still bitching about Chaingate; Riccardo Ricco waaaaaaaaay too stupid to dope correctly; Jens says race radios are good, so it must be true. Forgive me for doubting, o Jens!

March: it's the Classics, baby! Boonen roars back at Gent-Wevelgem; Goss surprises at Milano-Sanremo; Gilbert gets ready to start all-year reign of terror; UCI's a buncha crybaby !@#holes. So what else is new?

April: Jonathan Vaughters squanders the great Thor Hushovd; Quick Step dumps on Boonen; Versus relegates Phil and Paul to Obscurity Hour; what's next, you freaks all gonna kick the Easter Bunny?

May: May wasn't funny.

June: class act Lance Armstrong corners Tyler Hamilton by the toilets; French bust Contador for--um, riding down the Galibier without a tail-light? yeah, that'll learn 'im!; RadioSkank announces four GC contenders for Tour de France, might as well pack it up and go home now. Good luck with that podium, Johan!

July: it's the Tour de France, baby! Hoogerland winged into razor wire, gamely finishes Tour; Hushovd turns mountain goat, *still* dissed by Garmin; Schlecks !@#$ up, *again*; holy crap we love Samuel Sanchez is the polka dot jersey!; Cadeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeel!

August: the fabulous Vuelta gets underway; Levi and George raise hell in Colorado; Cav teases about his team choice; ham-fisted goon Vinokourov "nicely" asks junior team member to retire from cycling to make room for him on Astana. Or else!

September: Euskaltel rules, of course; unheralded Cobo takes the Vuelta, you better not break my trusting heart !@#dammit; Cav grabs Worlds, 2500 spectators blinded by teeth on podium; Georgia Bronzini makes it 2, outrages sport by asking to be paid as much as that horrible off-key ukelele guy in the subway who plays for pocket change. The nerve of some people!

October: Bjarne leaves Contador with no support for 2012 at Saxo Bank, but then, that's what cows are for; Hushovd goes from being screwed at Garmin to being screwed at BMC; Tour announces 2012 route, Andy Schleck starts cryi--uh, learning to time trial. Allez allez Andy!

November: Merckx tells Schlecks to aim for the Giro; Jan Ullrich threatens to talk--watch out, Lance!; Zabriskie croons for Vaughters; WADA gives Contador a pass on plasticizers. IV-suckin' dirtbags o' the peloton, unite!

December: Vino accused of buying win at Liege-Bastogne-Liege for 134k big ones, which is still better'n 98% of the !@#$ he usually does; riders lay out plans for upcoming season; Bjarne Riis tosses Contador out of airplane. Ya got two weeks left in the year--the rest of you guys, don't !@#$ this up!

Well, sadly for me (but luckily for you), I couldn't cram it all in--but let's hope for a lively 2012!

Yer Random News Roundup o' the Week--Rider Smackdown Edition!

Tyler Extends the Olive Branch: y'know, I was gonna post a whole bunch of sweet sentimental ponderings today on dreamy Cav's impending fatherhood and Rodriguez's adoration of Team Katusha, but !@#$ that--for my money, the best tweet o' the week is traitorous Lance Armstrong defector/men's-room beatdown rival Tyler Hamilton, generously letting Lance know that if he wants any restaurant recommendations while he's in town, silly inconsequential betrayal to the feds and impending legacy destruction or no, Ty's still his man. Note to Lance (who shockingly, however, hasn't apparently yet responded)--if you end up in some cockroach-ridden Southie back-alley with Tyler and a posse of black-clad goons at 2 a.m. "looking for the entrance", he ain't takin' you to Legal Seafoods for chowder. See, I can be nice!

BMC See the Bloody Remnants o' Yer Carcass Next Season, Thor!: and, unstoppable Velo d'Or Philippe Gilbert is already amping up the love at Team BMC, ruminating on his chances for dominance in Paris-Roubaix for 2012 and, one assumes, really reassuring Thor Hushovd that besides being demoted to Cadel's water-boy at the Tour de France, he can also look forward to being Gilbert's b!@#$ at the Classics next year. !@#dammit, has ever a recent World Champion been so nut-kicked in such swift succession by squads that oughta be backing him up? Yap, yap, Thor's a whiner, yap--much as I love Cadel and Philippe, he should be freakin' howling at the moon like a werewolf and going all Wolverine on their !@#es, and they should thank him extravagantly for doing it!

The Racejunkie Review o' Books: yes, all that fancy lit-crit is for weenies, because my spankin' new Ivan Basso autobio has just arrived on these very shores, and, faster'n you can say "Birillo," I hope to be posting the more salacious details of his career--which, I fear, may be sorely lacking in this edition--for both yer entertainment. Oh well, what it may lack in potentially-litigious peloton gossip, it'll certainly make up for in really pretty pictures. Woo-hoo!

Jens, the Next Generation: finally, I see total god Jens Voigt has tweeted that one of his Jenslets just competed in--and, inevitably, won--his first-ever bike race. me, I'm thinking that with approximately 563 offspring to his credit, Jens derivatives'll pack to the peloton enough within the next ten years that there'll be no-one left *but* a Jens and Jensette in the ProTour ranks, all joyfully bounding ahead of each other on the road whether their DSes want them to or not like labs after a just-tossed tennis ball. Bow, peons--and with that many of 'em coming up, we're gonna have to get used to doing it *often*!

Your General Roundup o' the Week; and, Watch Out, Alberto!

Thooooooor!: so, nouveaux climbing freak Thor Hushovd's lookin' mighty bitchin' ahead of the Worlds, bagging a victory at the Thor of Britain as reluctant Belgian leader Philippe Gilbert predictably whomps the field in his own latest race: Yer clearly getting past those sniffles you had that were a direct result of Jonathan Vaughters horribly screwing you out of your Worlds prep at the Vuelta--Thooooooooooooooooooooor!

So Longo, See Ya, Wouldn't Want to Be Ya: meanwhile, in the latest la-la-la-I-can't-hear-you news, perpetual French champ/inspiring ageless national icon Jeannie Longo's husband is getting busted for allegedly procuring EPO from tireless drug pimp Joe Papp, and Jeannie, of late in hot water herself for evading doping controls (like that stopped UCI from, say, letting Michael Rasmussen nearly take the Tour de France before they decided to get upset over it), has reluctantly withdrawn from the Worlds to avoid getting blood-tes--um, to stand by her man. Aw, I'm not worried--I'm sure that !@#$ was her grandmother's/her dog's/mislabeled baking soda/just a little something to give the neighborhood school kids an early-morning energy boost in their juice boxes!

That's Rich: since you just can't get enough of disgusting bottom-dweller Riccardo Ricco', I'm sure you'll be delighted to hear that our hero has now sworn under oath to the Italian narcs that he never, never, never, never blood doped from his fridge, because, in fact, he did it from a bag stored in his coole--wait, am I reading this right? Anyhoo, lest you're tired of watching people actually summit *after* the rest of the peloton's had time to sign in at the start line on race day, Riccardo is promising that, like a season-ending saddlesore or an unpleasantly itchy reaction to that new chamois creme, he'll be back. Lookin' forward to it--especially since your compatriots you ripped off so many victories from must loooooooooove you so much!

Yep, I *Still* Feel Dirty: finally, it's with that warm and fuzzy feeling only truly oleaginous hypocrisy can produce that I report that Alexandre Vinokourov is back on the bike, training for Lombardy and, I presume, ready to bushwhack Alberto Contador with a buncha steel-toe-booted goons should this rumored marriage between Saxo Bank and Astana come to pass by the end of the season. If they go mano-a-mano, I know who I'm betting on--and it ain't the little twerp with the 65 Grand Tours to his name!

Mark Cavendish is *Screwed*!

Man on the Run: yep, looks like it's serious--Cav's go-to, and frankly much-needed, lead-out Mark Renshaw is apparently about to head to Rabobank to pursue some main-man sprint dreams of his own. Well, given how you've used him like a bat-wielding goon on the other sprinters, Cav, you better watch out now if you piss *him* off! Of course, you could just go all McEwen and actually rip someone's ear off with your teeth yourself...

Thooooooooooor!: in other "what the !@#$?" news, we love Thor Hushovd has bailed on the wholly unappreciative Garmin-Cervelo--I warned you, Vaughters!--to head to BMC of all places, and is so certain that the squad's massive support of all things Cadel (which Cadel deserves, for sure) won't leave him completely jacked again in the Classics and everything else that he's gone ahead and inked a full three-year gig. Considering what Thor managed to pull off entirely on his own in the Tour de France this year, though, I imagine that even there with the full force of the squad behind the defending Evans, Thor'll manage things for himself juuuuuuust fine. Okay, Thor, I'll admit I'm still a little skeptical here--but if you say it's okay, it must be true!

Bio Hazard: so, despite the fact that narcs-supreme UCI've got every cyclist's blood profile locked down cold, it seems there's a little problem with the infallible biological passport--according to Cervelo guru Gerard Vroomen, the dedicated dope-fighters aren't actually, y'know, testing against it. D'oh! Y'know, *no-one* has more faith in Pat "Dick" McQuaid than I, so I'm gonna state the obvious here and say that the only reason UCI *hasn't* done any of this stuff lately is that they just haven't plain had the time since they've been so busy busting big-name riders like, um....and, uh....gee, maybe...no, how about....hmmmmm....oh, but you watch out, you cheaters, they're comin' after you *someday*!

Tic-Toc, Baby!: finally, since you just can't wait for the Vuelta to begin (no, not the *Tour*, you soulless trolls, the *Vuelta*, the fabulous *Vuelta*), here's a bitchin' promotional video to ring in the countdown. Enjoy--and dammit, bring this sucker *on* already!

Pony Up, Vaughters You Cheapskate!

It's the Thor de France, Baby!: here's the scoop: we love Jens "Shut Up Legs!" Voigt is now on Twitter, and he sez Thor Hushovd's hotel room is a cramped, tiny piece of crap. What the hell is wrong with you, Vaughters? The man is world champion. He wore the maillot jaune for a week with your sponsor's logo all over his rump. He deigned to lead out (the great,to be sure, but jeez!) Tyler Farrar in a !@#damn sprint, for !@#$'s sake. And now this most unlikely of climbers has bagged you a Pyreneean stage win off the Col d'Aubisque, and this is the best you'll do for him? Pony up for a decent hotel room for the boy already, you oppressor pig! And no, I don't care if Jens *was* being tongue-in-cheek and Thor *was* already staying in a decent pad--you can freakin' pay up for an *extra* palatial suite for just his dirty socks and the pile of fawning sycophants you owe 'im. Don't take any more guff, Thor--and Jonathan Vaughters, Garmin *gave* you a damn Visa card, right? So use it!

GC Deep, Mountain High: let's cut to it: (1) Contador clearly ain't just "psyching out" the Schlecks at this point and (2) relative to his own freakishly high norm, at least, and barring some miracle renaissance tomorrow (which to be fair, Alberto being Alberto, is certainly possible), he looks like hell. So what's this mean for GC? Well, for my money, if the Schlecks successfully continue to tag-team him through the Alps, and Cadel doesn't crack, it's over, because there ain't near enough room in the time trial for Alberto to recover the time over even the sucktastic Schlecks, so we're basically talking about a battle for 2nd. And Andy, give it to Frank, while we're at it--you can't blame Chaingate for this one, your big bro just looks a bit better than you this year! Oh, Alberto, I can't stand the whining, promise me you'll pull it back for the Alps...or heck, if Thor Hushovd can take a mountain stage, maybe you can at least kick Cavendish's !@# in the next sprint!

Radio Silence: and, in further bodily-damage news, RadioSkank has now lost the stalwart (and darned on-form) Andreas Kloden, leaving just Levi Leipheimer--without the aid of Klodi, Chris, Jani Brajkovic, or Popo--to hold down the fort for the squad's Tour de France dreams. Luckily, Lance Armstrong is apparently due in France shortly to torment Alb--um, support Levi, which should provide, if massive annoyance to those of us at home who will be subject to the nails-on-a-blackboard 24/7 media whorefest, a big mental boost to our lovable RoadID tough guy. Aw, Levi--if they won't let Lance in to domestique, maybe you could buy up a few of yer old Gerolsteiner teammates to help you along...

Euskalteeeeeeeeeeeeeel!: finally, no post would be complete without a replay of the fantastically humble and exceedingly smashing we love Samuel Sanchez taking the stage to Luz-Ardiden, with half his key lieutenants crashed out, no less: Woo-hoo Samu--aupa Euskalteeeeeeeeeel!

Thoooooooooor--And, Back In a Few Days!

Yes, even racejunkies take vacation, and even during the Tour--hell, it's not like I'm off during the Giro or Vuelta--so, dear reader(s) and cycling fans, til I'm back at the end of the week, here's Thor "Oh Yeah, I'm the Maillot Jaune, Baby!" Hushovd (and his new steed) for your viewing pleasure:





I'll be back for the mountains--and Contador, just *try* not to lose more time until then!

It's the 2011 Tour de France, Baby!

And We're Off!: Y'know, once you've seen Thor Hushovd dressed up like a chick holding a giant hammer over his head, it's hard to believe things could get any better, but yes, it's time for the glory, the folly, and class-A showmanship of the Tour de France, and what better way to start it than with a compact, handy guide to the festivities? Sure, some o' this'll be old hat to you veteran fanatics--but remember, at the Tour, anything can happen and most usually does!

The GC Contenders: look, Alberto Contador could pretty much stay in his hotel room for three weeks mainlining hard-core sedatives and he'd still win the thing, but should he and his lieutenants be truly thwapped from the Giro, ever-podium press-nemesis Cadel Evans, two-time Giro king Ivan Basso (still never quite the same after his ban), oh-so-close-to-last-year's-podium we love Samuel Sanchez, and perpetual second-banana (sorry, that's not to say he's not a very fine cyclist) Andy Schleck are on his tail. Andy in particular is still looking for revenge for a punk-!@# move he pulled on Contador early in last year's race that's he's conveniently blocked out of his memory before whining for 365 straight days about Alberto's stupid "Chaingate" attack, but since Contador in particular doesn't seem to hold a parallel grudge (or media weep-fest) over Andy, look for Andy and slightly-older evil twin Frank to bushwhack Alberto if they gets the chance. And yes, Levi Klodi Horner are in the slugfest, but !@#$ed. Fun for all!

The Climbers: Whatever don't go to the GC contenders and the tragically motivated Movistar, it's all about the orange-and-black, baby--go Euskalteeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeel!

The Fast Men: sure, this is a spectacularly crap course for these guys, but we got drama: Cav's still gotta prove his early-season suck-form was a fluke, the disconcertingly ageless Petacchi's out for blood because of the stupid Italian cycling fed's completely unfair decision to keep doping slime-weasels out of the Worlds squad, Boonen's gotta earn his keep with that oily smirk Patrick Lefevere at Quick Step, unhappy Thor wants a good show to up the dough in his next contract, and peloton nice-guy Tyler Farrar, after the terrible loss of his dear friend Wouter Weylandt, would like to win one for both of them. Me, I'm rooting for Tyler 'n' Thor. You go boys!

The Breakaway Artists: Oh, pack it up and go home. Philippe Gilbert just took it. And the next one. And the n--oh, just go the hell home!

Time Trial: is this even a question? The last guy to beat Fabian Cancellara tested poz for like 2 gallons of dope the next day. The man's a bionic freak! Or bike doping. Or just plain better'n you whiners. Or...

The Missing: total, unmitigated bull!@#$. We love dear little Tour de France champ Carlos Sastre (yeah, don't feel quite so bad about Menchov) and Robbie McEwen are out. You suck, race organizers and RadioSkank!

The Commentators: it's not Phil & Paul's fault that they're Lance fans, and they can still tell you all about the spectacular local brie they ate at that winery apres-stage 15 in '78. Kneel, swine!

And, a Bonus Feature for My Beloved Reader(s): Lance, Lance, Lance, Lance, Lance, Lance Lance Lance, Contador, Lance Lance, controversial, Lance Lance Lance Lance chain Lance Lance Lance Andy Schleck Lance Lance. There, I saved you two hours outta your life--you just watched every morning's TdF preview show!

Let the Games Begin!

Who Iiiiiiiiiis It?: yes, days before the Tour, the road-rage hypocrite enablers at UCI have announced that certain "top riders" are in their sights and are imminently going down. Who? None of your damn beeswax, suckers--until your DS tells you you've contracted an enormously disgusting "stomach ailment" and you have to drop out the night before the Tour! Um, anyone wanna chip in for a $500,000 piece of lab equipment for our friends? Thought so! Start passing the hat, A--yeah, maybe I just better stop right there!

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: Geez, Tommeke, nice pic--but doesn't your *mom* see this stuff?!