The Sun Is a Mass/ Of Incandescent Gas/ A Gigantic Nuclear Fur-nace! #UCIDoha2016

And You're Riding In It, Sucker: yes, in the presence of truly record-breaking crowds--in the sense that "zero" is a "record", albeit a !@#$ty one--the planet's greatest cyclists have officially convened in the sweltering deserts of Doha to barf, pant, collapse, careen, and faint their way to World Championship glory, and, if there's one thing we know as the men's and women's elite road race is upon us, it's that the UCI's venal, profit-groveling, rider-endangering, cycling-screwing moronity clearly knows no bounds whatsoever beyond a fat, marinating pile of sun-scorched sweat-drenched euros, leading desperate riders to institute measures like "extreme sauna protocol" to accustom themselves to the heat, which apparently involves being locked in a small cedar closet with a steaming pile of hot rocks until you personally physically shrivel into (1) a desiccated, permanently preserved wraith-corpse, or (2), even worse, Chris Froome or 2007 Tour de France-era Michael Rasmussen. Glad no-one's actually *croaked* from the heat yet, you reckless !@#$ing sickos! Jaysus, why not !@#$ing hold the road race championships on a molten !@#$ing lava flow the next time Vesuvius blows and bacon-crisps an entire !@#$ing country, whydontcha?

Corollary Mystery o' Science: whether, as the winner ascends the podium to collect his or prize, s/he will--because as we all learned in school, if our inferior US educations were even correct, heat rises--spontaneously combust into a sad, skinny little pile of ash as the gold medal, with nowhere left to hang, collapses onto it ignominiously and instantly superheats into a gas, disappearing into the netherworld. Isn't science *fun*, kids?

The Postman Always Rings Twice--uh, NEVER EVER LOOKS IN THE !@##$IN' PACKAGE, ALRIGHT?: meantime, as British Cycling begins to cannibalize itself faster'n a Westward-bound pack o' manifest-destiny-seeking wagon-rollin' desperadoes, the latest guy to jump ship is the hapless Team Sky "mystery package" courier who, it seems, "didn't know" what was in the pile of sleazy, rules-evading dru--uh, do--uh, stuff he was delivering, despite the words "FRAGILE--PEDs" stamped all over the box in 200-point type, a frantic call from an unidentified staff person demanding to know its whereabouts, and, upon its arrival, an estimated 56 cyclists running up to the courier, bull!@#$ TUEs in hand, jersey sleeves rolled up, and their upper arms already freshly prepped with alcohol wipes. Yeah, it was a box of cutting-edge, specially aerodynamic band-aids, you doofus--*dang*, ignorance is bliss!

NEWS FLASH!: finally, I bring to you this exclusive breaking news from Doha: we're just now receiving reports that, due to extreme heat-induced dehydration, Tom Dumoulin has literally shrunk into Esteban Chaves. So much for that "breakthrough 2017 *Dutch* Grand Tour win", I guess!

Valverde Falls Short and Sagan Blows It Again: It's Last Chance at the Tour de France Corral! #letour

Tic-Tock, Make It Stop: Yep, forget tomorrow's stage winner Tony Martin, we've got ourselves a real battle for the GC podium at the individual time trial, with the experienced if marginally crappy Valverde a mere 2 seconds back off Jean-Christophe Peraud in 3rd and 15 seconds off Thibaut Pinot Grigio. Oh, come on, I know no-one wants Piti to win here, but like you won't be off yer seats screamin' at the TV with excitement (or disgust) anyway? Plus, if Valverde gets this, it'll be the first time he (1) hasn't had a catastrophic race-wrecking meltdown at the Tour de France (or hell, any Grand Tour) and (2) he's actually made the final podium here. Aw, do it just to piss everyone off Alejandro--what's another year to the French, when they've sucked at their own Tour for a quarter-century anyhow?

He's Tourminated: and, let's just cut all the brave-face carry-on stiff-upper-lip crapola--while winning the overall green jersey at the Tour de France would be a career-defining coup for anyone else, for Peter freakin' Sagan it's an emerald emblem of failure, as having blown the stage win today with a late-stage multi-cyclist pileup, he's got just one chance left to salvage his Tour on the Champs-Elysees, and it's pretty darn likely that the little that's even left of Marcel Kittel after the Pyrenees is gonna grab that by a country mile. Speaking of which, don't it feel weird Cav not taking it? Oh well, teeth, hair, they both of 'em sprint, what's the difference!

Ladies First: finally, don't forget that delicate flowers like Marianne Vos and Giorgia Bronzini are gonna be provin' the worth of the ladies on the Champs as well, in what's hopefully their first crack at a someday-soon full-on three-week Tour de France. No diss to the eternal Vos, but can *someone* else at least come close to taking it besides her--variety is the spice of life, and we need *something* unexpected to happen on Sunday, right? Woot woot Giorgiaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

It's Yer Most 'a Week One Vuelta a Espana ('n' Nother Stuff) Roundup!

What Happened: yeah, you saw it: they rolled off a glass thingie, the uphills started almost instantaneously, Chris Horner redeemed RadioSkank's whole season grabbing the leader's jersey then lost it on some crap split to Nibali who really oughtn't have it so soon 'cause the last thing he needs is to squander the hell outta the squad's energy so early so he better hope Horner hasn't sought weight-stuffing solace in a giant McFlurry binge, Euskaltel is clearly waiting patiently to slaughter everyone this coming week (bite me! are too! and they're really stressed, so stuff it!), there's now officially at least two Saxo-Tinkoff riders Oleg Tinkov won't be breakin' their kneecaps before the end of the season so clearly there's some brains (and legs) left in that troubled operation, and there's been a buncha fast flat stages and I honestly do hope poor psyched out Tyler Farrar wins one 'cuz he really can do it but he's had an awful tough coupla years and has no lead-out to boot so cut him some freakin' slack !@#dammit. Yesterday: your early but clear winner of the 2013 Racejunkie Awards for Agonizing Almost Win o' the year in a truly soul-smooshing nail-biting finish after basically a 174.99k solo time trial by gutsy Tony Martin: Holy crap Tony you've got heart--one of the few performances I've seen of late that really, genuinely qualifies as "epic"!

What's Gonna Happen: this weekend, we finally hit some hills this weekend, baby, and it's time for (1) Samu' to take back some time, (2) Rodriguez to spit Horner off the podium like a glommy scrappy lougie; and (3) Valverde to either (a) make a spectacular move or (b) have a spectacular crack. Dear little retired-but-all-kindsa-into-youth-cycling-and-still-happy-riding-his-bike-and-hangin'-with-his-kids 2008 Tour de France champ Carlos Sastre's assessment: not really properly deferential to Sanchez's fabulousness, but bettin' on long-ago-and-admittedly-underrated ex-teammate Purito for an inevitable if-not-now-soon Grand Tour victory, and correctly pegging Euskaltel's Mikel Nieve as Spanish star o' the future. So we still love you Sastre!

'Nother Stuff Roundup: Cadel's not gonna ride the Tour anymore because he doesn't think he can win, but for a purported run at the Worlds Contador is drastically downscaling his expectations after a crap 2013, Wiggo has completely conceded defeat, Cav honestly misses the track, disgusting vindictive sycophant/enabler Pat "Dick" McQuaid continues to try to wreck the sport I can even believe he thinks he loves, and anyone who ever, *ever*, EVER uses the glorious Giro and/or Vuelta as also-rans to the Tour because they can't bag the Grand Boucle doesn't deserve to win those far-cooler races anyway. Oh, and Thomas "the Grimace" Voeckler nabbed a stage win after his indifferent July at the Tour-of-Sorry-I-Really-Suck-At-Spelling-Stuff-In-French-No-Diss-Intended, so right on to him, and here, his fine victory: Okay, it's on to Land o' No Blog Coverage for a coupla days, so Vuelta fans, enjoy the race!

It's Yer Post-Carnage Stage 2 Tour Roundup; and, The Giro Rosa Takes Off! #GiroRosa

I am Stuck on (trademark) Brand 'Cuz (trademark)'s Stuck on Me: yep, the post-stage 1 body count is in, and aside from Johnny Hoogerland having the Crappiest Luck in the Peloton, again, most of the guys managed to show back up for stage 2 with whole identifiable portions of their team kit visible beneath the mummy bandages. Which brings me to this question: why the !@#$ was Tony "Forget the Bruised Lung, He's Got a Friggin' Concussion!" Martin allowed to ride today? I'm no doctor, but it's still up to his DS to allow or forbid 'im to ride, and if I understand right, optimal brain function is, y'know, highly useful when it comes to split-second reactions like taking a corner, avoiding a crash ahead of you, or not plunging off 3000 feet off a moutainside on a descent. Am I the only one who thought how freakin' scary it was that time Johan Bruyneel let Chris Horner ride after he whacked his head on the pavement and he barely even remembered the stage he'd just ridden afterwards? Please guys--if it involves their brain, take 'em out of the race. And get well soon Tony Martin!

Surprise!: so despite the efforts of an increasingly pissed-off Sylvain Chavanel, the dithering dipwad break managed to cannibalize itself right outta a guaranteed victory, all except an incredulous RadioSkank's Jan Bakelants, who stuck it out to the end to smashing head-slappin' effect. Not shocking: some nimrod already letting his annoying yapper dog jump out into course, selfishly (if wisely) saving himself and leaving the dog to its instincts as they both jumped the hell outta disaster an instant before it rolled over 'em. It's called a *leash*, people! Or does "the first guy you take down gets to whang you over the head repeatedly with a bike stand" seem clearer to you? Not as happy: Peter "Now He's the Hulk?" Sagan, who almost reeled Bakelants in, and a completely zonked and still-ticked Mark Cavendish, who twitter-lammed into the race organizers for wholly screwing the sprinters outta their rightful points yesterday. And what the hell was Froome up to--or *did* he really psych out Contador into total helplessness tonight with that show of strength towards the end? Here, (almost) Flat Fido:

It's the Giro Rosa, Baby!: and, Kirsten Wild took a dazzling sprint over Marianne Vos, but Vos still--for reasons I assume have to do with intermediate points--grabbed the first maglia rosa of the race, and tomorrow, Wild'll and the other fast 'uns'll have another chance to take it off her. With all respect to the fearsome rest of the peloton, better grab it while you can--is there *any* terrain that Vos can't win on? Still waitin' for video of the finish (geez! even podium photos to post!), but here's the happy winner: Forza Kirsten! Wait, here's *some* video (I swear the sprint is in there!):

Caaaaaaaaaaav!: And, Your Overall Worlds Roundup

Well, it's big love (and a dashing photo of Cav, of course) to our Brit friends on Mark Cavendish's smashing win at the Worlds today (see, I can be fair to your boy!), and aside from that, just a few things we might remember about this lively week:

1. I was all kinds of ready to extravagantly compliment the French racers for not sucking and musing enthusiastically on their bright new future after stars-o-tomorrow Arnaud Demare and Adrien Petit went 1-2 in the men's U-23 road race and Pierre-Henri LeCuisinart or whatever bagged the junior men's, 'til some French asshat crashed and WRECKED THOR HUSHOVD'S CHANCES TO DEFEND HIS JERSEY! Fine, the French won't suck *soon*. And I like pomme frites, so I'll give 'em that too. But for holding up Thor, your compatriot *blows*!

2. Amber Neben certainly earned her spot in the time trial, as, by whatever obscure criteria, she won her appeal fair and square--it's not her fault those morons couldn't get their act together on a ruling 'til Kristin Armstrong had just landed in freakin' Copenhagen. But if *I* were Armstrong, and I were home with a cold one in my hand watching those results on TV...come on, like *you* wouldn't be pissed!

3. I'll give it to 'em--for Cav to take that sprint after having been boxed in and losing any kind of home-town wheel to cling to despite a bitchin' lot of work by his teammates, a situation completely out of his comfort zone--*that* was some kind of bad-!@#. Congratulations, Cav--you did in fact rock this one!

4. Watching the perfect Dutch lead-out in the women's road race, and then Marianne Vos *still* taking second place, was just heartbreaking. On the other hand, strikingly like her commissario tecnico Paolo Bettini, two-years-running champ Georgia Bronzini is one canny !@#@$%^&*!. Well played!

5. For Fabian Cancellara to be rocking all over the bike like a rum-drunk sailor in a hurricane, and *still* come in third in the world in the time trial, is a testament to his greatness. And didn't Tony Martin beating him *not* give you the same sickly feeling as when Stefan Schumacher did back in that Tour?

6. I've hereby solved this total !@#$shit question over whether some of the best cyclists in the world should be guaranteed the same minimum base pay as, say, the high-school delinquent who cleans out yer local 7-Eleven's Slurpee machine: everytime Pat "Dick" McQuaid says something toadying, arbitrarily enemy-attacking, or just plain asinine, that's 10 bucks in the women's peloton paycheck kitty. Screw that silly sponsorship dough--Ina-Yoko Teutenberg, six months from now, you're rich!

7. Y'know, Ina-Yoko does kinda scare me, but after watching Judith Arndt in the time trial, I'm pretty sure that if I or, say, the Incredible Hulk met her in a dark alley on a bad-mood day, one would need some pretty serious nonexistent video-game weaponry to come outta there alive. Just sayin'. Go Judith!

8. Finally, for certain faithful readers, yer bonus gratuitous Cav adulation shot:

Complimenti to all, and to all a good year!