It's the Vuelta a Pais Vasco!; and, For !@#$'s Sake, "Buttgate"

Hey, It's the Tour of the Misogynist Little !@#$!--Uh, Flanders: yep, leave it Peter Sagan to overshadow Fabian Cancellara's win (however dull) at the venerable Tour of Flanders on Sunday: Sagan's pigfest podium ass-grab, and resulting shotgun-apologies (including a wholly lame tweet and sorta-improved regret video), have taken the cycling world and heck even the normal media by storm, as the international comment-n-twit-sphere seems actually somewhat divided between "eh, big deal" and "yes, big deal!" Still, even the offended podium attendee, Maja Leye,magnanimously took the high road in chastising Sagan, noting, in what is either a sincere mistranslation of the word for "apology" or an entirely delicious dope-smack, "excuses accepted." Am I on drugs, or do I just keep missing the footage where the female cyclists pinch a butt's-worth of the local dignitary giving them *their* trophies? Now keep groveling, Peter, and be glad if she lets you up off your knees with your nuts intact or we let you up to ride the Ardennes! Here, some video of the women's race, !@#dammit:

Hey, It's the Tour of the Basque Country!: meanwhile, in *race* news, Contador, Porte, Tejay, and we love Samuel Sanchez (bite me! dear Euskaltel's just warming up! stuff it!) faced off today at the beautiful Vuelta a Pais Vasco, with Euskaltel crushing me spiritually by failing to ride towards the front and getting caught behind a crash *again*, but fortunately, however, their redemption still to come in the upcoming mountain stages. I SAID, THEIR REDEMPTION STILL TO COME IN THE MOUNTAIN STAGES! DID YOU HEAR ME, EUSKALTEL? I SAID...

Tejay, Way Classier Act Than He Needs To Be: and, as Cadel Evans seemed to be already conceding defeat at the 2013 Tour by announcing he'll ride the Giro as well--what the hell is it with all the GC guys thinking this stupidity this year?--indispensable lieutenant Tejay Van Garderen almost immediately chimed in by gamely affirming he's only in it to support Cadel for the win. Jeez, Wiggo, you might want to find out what Cadel's doing so right with this kid--unless you *want* Chris "The Anti-Tejay" Froome to keep trying to bushwhack you again this year!

It's Flanders, Baby!--Has Ever a Race So Beautiful Become So Snoozy?

Can we get to the point? This circuit !@#$ and skipping the Muur just sucks. Why not just let the peloton have a nice relaxing brunch the first 5 hours then start from 20k out? Anyway, it is still Flanders, so let's recap:

1. !@#$!: Tom Boonen down, stitches impending, and his Classics totally !@$#ed at 30K. Despite the fact that I was rooting for Boonen anyway after his crap season-so-far, and 80% of Boonen is still 120% of anyone else, am I the only one thinking that the Classics just ain't the Classics if Tom and Fabian can't slug it out in full form? Here, Belgium breaks its heart:

2. Notable Mechanicals: Rear wheel puncture for Fabian at 53k out. Flecha mechancial at 34k. Really, is that gonna take either one of 'em out?

3. Yep, It's Flanders All Right: walkin' on the Koppenburg.

4. The End is Near: Fabian and Sagan are marking at 34k! Argy-bargy at the foot of the Kwaremont! Roelandts ditches Hinault at 18K! Chavanel falling back!

5. Okay, You Can Turn Off the TV Now: Cancellara jumps again as Sagan hits the hurt locker at 17k! All over at 13k as Sagan and Roelandts settle for a slugfest for second.

6. Vooooos!: yep, it's Marianne Vos for the women. Damn, does she even need a bike to ride on--that woman could just win races walking and pickin' daises!

Well, that's what you missed, unless seeing Fabian Cancellara--who is brilliant, yap yap yap--pull the same one-length-and-he's-gone trick can keep you entertained for every race on the planet. Me, not so much. Bring on Roubaix, and for God's sake, some other freakin' tactic!

Peter Sagan vs. Mark Cavendish: Yer Handy Primer

Okay folks, there's been a loooottta flashy ridin' lately and a looooottta fan fightin' over who reigns supreme, upstart young Slovak Peter "Pop-a-Wheelie" Sagan or less upstart but still young Brit Mark "Colgate" Cavendish. And frankly, between the sprinterly arrogance, lightning-fast finishes and whack-job victory salutes, it's sometimes hard to tell who's who. So who are they, and who's the bitchinest of them all? Here, Yer Handy Racejunkie Primer:

Early History: Sagan: junior world mountain bike champ. Cav: gold-medal world madison champ trackie. And yes, they both rode everything else, too. Mountain bike's more beery 'n' fun, but track's just wicked cool. Advantage: Cavendish.

Palmares: Sagan: this year's Gent, possibly Sunday's Flanders, 5 stages and the green jersey at last year's Tour, points classification in basically everything else last year, too. Cav: 2011 world road champ, Milano-Sanremo, a mind-boggling couple dozen stages at the Tour de France, points classifications in the Tour and, miraculously, the fabulous Vuelta. Yes, Sagan's younger, but boy--you've got some more work to do!

Nickname: Sagan: the "Terminator." True, to be sure, but holy crap is that overused, and his sponsor should still be thwapped for that obnoxious green bike last year. Cav: the "Manx Missile." Cav takes it by a landslide!

Victory Salute: Cav: a clean, straightforward, chest-thumping, finger-flippin' "screw you!" Sagan: a masterpiece of arcane movie gestures, crowd-pleasing showmanship, and just plain goofy joy. Sagan, you charmer--sure, your elders are miffed, but then, they're jealous of you, too!

Strengths: Sagan: jack of all trades, master of...well, it's still a little too soon to tell where he's gonna really go, right? Cav: undisputed fastest man on two wheels in a pure sprint. Cav 'til Sagan gets a little more experience!

Weaknesses: Sagan: uh...I dunno...he's too darn big to be a Sastre-esque pure climber? Cav: can't climb for !@#$, but man, does he ever stick it out. Cav, we'll see if he out-chokes you at something!

Team: didja know Sagan's a Quick Step reject? Well, I didn't, you insufferable bike-stat snotwad! Lookin' a little green there, Lefevere? Anyway: Sagan's the better natural Classics rider, but Cav's got the better Classics squad. Sagan wins on the smashing Liquigas (Cannondale, whatever) team kit, which is almost as garish as he is, but Cav's already smacked his new Quick Step minions into a solid lead-out. Me, I love any team that's got Chavanel and Boonen, and Cannondale's still pissing me off for losing Nibali. Toss up!

Team Camp: sure, Liquigas is admirably sadistic, but it was Quick Step that had Cav and everyone else go special-ops Rambo on everyone's !@# this year. Drop and give me 20, Sagan you punk!

Argy-Bargy: there's still some debate about whether Sagan's De Panne win the other day was a bit of a punk-!@# move for changing his line, but did you know Cav once single-handedly flung Tyler Farrar over the border into the Spain by grabbing his bike jersey with his teeth? Yup, they still haven't found 'im! Gotta give Cav management points for delegating half his dirty work to his domestique goons, though. Sagan wins for cleanliness!

Smack-Talk: Sagan is relentlessly, heck, almost freakishly, polite. Cav, on the other hand, will not only blame the weather, the announcer, the race moto, and the other squads failure to support 'im for his loss, but will publicly rip into his own teammates to boot. Wait, do we give this to the diplomat, or the !@#$-you guy?

Eye-Candy Quotient: oh, gimme a break, you smug little purists--you think Mario "the Chest" Cipollini made his career on results alone? On this, I defer to my loyal reader(s). 'Cause it's not like you all hadn't thunk about it anyway!

Well, them's my assessment, and honestly, I'm surprised how Cav's more'n held his own against the Sagan hype machine. So slug it out on the road, boys, and let's see who earns the vulgar victory display at the end of the season!

It's the Abominable SnowClassics!; and, Baby Schleck on an Upswing

Watch Out, Big Boys!: well, if there was any doubt that Peter Sagan was ready to win a big race, presumptive Classics kings BMC Quick Step and (thanks to Fabian) RadioSkank are scared straight now: the boy not only had the strength, but even seems to be developing a little tactical sense this week, to take a snow-snapped Gent-Wevelgem. Speaking of which, am I the only one totally pissed at how Thor Hushovd's going this season? Time to earn your damn paycheck o "God o' Thunder!" As for Tommeke, it looks his 2012 win streak has totally gobsmacked him out of any luck whatsoever this season. Dagnabit! Of course, the Terminator finished off in grand style, this time wielding an imaginary lasso and popping a trademark wheelie across the line. Sure, he's cocky--but doesn't it still make you want to smack him a lot less than when Contador pulls that "Pistolero" crap? Here, poor Tom:

Woo-hoo, He's Saved!: meanwhile, just as I was about to drop a bucketload o' mercy and resolve a Voluntary Rider Insult Moratorium on sad-sack bar-fly Andy Schleck until he finished a race, he *did* finish one this weekend by golly, coming in a respectable 57th out of 60 at Criterium International at only 22 plus minutes back. Start quakin', Alberto--after all, you're the one knocked out with the sniffles this weekend! However, I really do wish him a total physical and mental recovery for July. But it ain't still gonna help if you don't learn to descend and time trial, Andy!

Et Tu, Wiggo?: thinking of Chris Froome, who took the stage and GC from teammate Richie Porte at Criterium International on the last day, am I the only one thinkin' that Brad Wiggins actively wants to !@#$ over Froomey at the Tour by saying he now plans to ride the Vuelta as well as the Giro? Sure, Wiggins, he maybe tried to pull a Cunego to your Simoni at the Tour de France--with a ton of ungracious whinging at that--but you still couldn't surpass 'im with this year's parcours so why be a bitch about it? Either help or stay home, and just upstage 'im in France with your rock-band entourage or somethin' instead!

Boonen Goes Bull!@#$! Sagan Eats Pie! Phinney Phreezes! And, Wiggo Wants Whup-!@#

Uh, Aren't the Belgians Supposed to *Like* This Slop?: well, that was one smashing start for African cycling, as big Maggy Backstedt calls it early for the brand-new MTN-Qhubeka's sprint-stud Gerald Ciolek, powering around nicely as Sagan over-marked Chavanel to lose the top spot, and Chavanel himself provided, for my money, by far the most aggressive and entertaining ride of the race. But of course, the big news of the day--because it sure wasn't the podium--was the near-blizzard conditions that forced the Italians to cut off the race's Turchio climb but still left the peloton, even after their team-bus lay-off warm-up, in a severe state of soaked, miserable, decimated, pissed-off Popsicle. An extremely ticked Tommeke, as he bailed out at the break: "I think my decision says enough.This is partly a precaution, but also a statement to the organization. They knew long enough that there was so much snow on the road. What happens now is the fault of the organization's own fault. Have you ever wanted to bicycle through the snow ridden? There are nicer things than this. I'm completely frozen." Other casualties: Vincenzo Nibali, Matthew Goss, and, well, pretty much everyone from Spain. Stickin' it out: Mark Cavendish for heck's sake, who simply tweeted "Fucking.Freezing." and *still* came in strong in the chase group. Right on Cav! Here, Taylor Phinney coated in ice, and a cheerful Sagan with his pie:
And, the last 3k:

There's Always Tomorrow/For Dreams To Come True: but wait, there's more--it's the fabulous Volta a Catalunya starting tomorrow, baby, and it's really all about the pre-Giro showdown between we love modest Canadian defending champ Ryder Hesjedal, Brad "I Hate Being Famous! Wait, Where's the Paparazzi Going?" Wiggins, and Tour rivals Rodriguez and Valverde. Also in: controversial returning Lance-yappin' Garmin ban-ees Van de Velde, Zabriskie, and Danielson. Me, I'm just gonna be smug as hell when dear Euskaltel finally grabs their first win of the season (go to hell! are too! it's been cold out!). And come on Cadel, you can do this--time to show some form already!

Rain! Pain! The Cipressa and Poggio! It's All Wide-Open for Milano-Sanremo, Baby!

What Is It?: the first big Classic of the season, baby, and a looooooooong 298k. Ow, !@#$!

What's The Terrain: well, it's flat enough at the very end for a bunch sprint. But the Cipressa and Poggio climbs and descents can (1) let a break get away and (2) thin the herd like lion on antelope. And it depends on how hard the wind is blowing. And if the rain is falling--which it will be. And how cold it is. And...damn, thank god I'm gonna be watching this thing from home!

So What's That Look Like?: Here, and for heck's sake at least wake up for the last 25k:

Who's Gonna Be There?: Who isn't? Oh, right, the munchkin 20-ounces-soaking-wet climbing specialists. The rest of you, line up and prepare to hurt!

Who're The Faves: yeah, you know 'em! Past winners Gerrans, Gossy, Pippo, Cancellara, Cavendish. Bearer of High Expectations Sagan. Bearers of Middlin' Expectations Boonen Nibali and Gilbert. Bearers of Crap Expectations Hushovd. And about 20 other big wily bastards who ain't talkin'. Me, I'm wondering if Sagan'll be so marked he'll just be Cancellaraed outta the win. Forza Tommeke--shut up, he can too!

What's the Weather?: according to the forecast, so miserable even the Belgians'll hate it. But come on--if you ain't riding it, doesn't it seem more "epic" that way?

Right, the Gilbert Psyche-Out: geez, what crap timing for world champ Philippe Gilbert to have to deal with accusations of bogus-prescrip'd cortisone use at Lotto after everyone'd already stopped doping 2 years ago--don't let it freak you out, Gilbert!

Finally, Yer Bonus Cav-Boonen Press Conference Eye Can--uh, Highly Informative Speaking Stuff:

Well, it's on to the race--good luck and stay upright you guys!

It's Yer Tirreno-Adriatico-Paris-Nice-Pre-Tour-de-France-'n'-Giro Roundup!

1. Contador's just waiting. Don't get too cocky there, Froomey!

2. Nibali is just gonna crush this Giro. Ivan Basso, there's no shame in a stage win!

3. Andy Schleck is meat for the season. And I hope he gets--well, everything--back for 2014, or it'll go down as one of the most epic wastes of talent in the history of cycling.

4. Cav can bitch all he wants that Peter Sagan's "not a sprinter," but that doesn't mean Sagan won't still beat him again.

5. Speaking of Sagan, holy crap he's fun to watch. In fact, if it weren't for the fact that Sagan can climb without croaking, I'd say he rather reminds me of a certain dashing young Manxman.

6. Yes, Purito, you *do* look great. No, do *not* try the Giro/Tour double, you eejit! When you *win* your first Grand Tour, *then* you can try it. And you'll *still* be screwed. Ever hear the name "Alberto Contador"?

7. Jeeeeens! Jeeeeeeens! Jeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeens!

8. If you saw Andrew Talansky coming at Paris-Nice, you are a total lying sack of !@$%. Or Jonathan Vaughters.

9. Yes, that stage at Tirreno was insane. No, don't apologize for it. As Cancellara called it, what's a little "sadomaso" between friends?

10. Coolest. Trophy. In. Cycling.

11. No, this is not related. Get well soon 1995 we-love-the-Vuelta champ Laurent Jalabert!

I Love You, You Love Me, We're a Happy Fam-i--You Suck You Worthless Vermin Dirtbags!

Yay, He's Back!: Geez, just as I was about to complain that Mark Cavendish's newfound happiness at Quick Step was making him into a vomitously saccharine gushing goo-goo-eyed alien pod-person whose brain has clearly been taken over by Smurfs, he's graciously restored my faith in humanity by immediately blaming his teammates for his humiliating 5th-place loss in today's Tirreno-Adriatico. On the plus side, Mr. Sensitive did say he would "talk about my feelings" with his lead-out train tonight. Awwwww. NOW !@#$ IT UP TOMORROW AND I'LL RIP YOUR HEADS OFF YER NECKS WITH MY GIANT TEETH LIKE YER A BAT AT AN OZZY OSBOURNE CONCERT! YAAAAAAAAA! YAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

Here, why he's pissed, and how Gossy takes the win:

You're All Worthless and Weak!: meanwhile, Marianne Vos, natch, has not only already bagged a huge mountain bike event this week, but she's just nailed her first road race of the season as well at the Drentse 8, as well as the top spot on Wheel of Fortune, Project Runway, the Newlywed Game, and the Annual Betty Crocker Cake Mix Cook-Off, which, so far as I can tell, leaves even great rivals like former world champ Giorgia Bronzini and Emma Johansson pretty much scavenging for podium crumbs in her wake. Don't worry though, she still hasn't won a national election in the Ne--oops, hello, Prime Minister!

Sissy-Boy Slap-Fight o' the Week: finally, it's clearly gettin' ugly in ex-doperland, as Floyd Landis snarls that retired Rabobank doping-denier Michael Boogerd, who previously claimed Landis was only accusing him of drug use because Boogerd mortifyingly called him an "arrogant jellyfish", is still only coughing up half-truths now that he's confessed, much less total bull!@#$ artists like Tour de France second-place Oscar Pereiro, who still won't even cop to nothin'. In response to this latest salvo, Boogerd reportedly called Landis a "stuck-up hermit crab" and a "snotty-ass sea slug," while a less eloquent Pereiro merely labeled Floyd a "m!@#$%f!@#$$." I say, forget this whiny little smack-talk--you're tough, right, why not challenge each other to a duel?

Thrills! Spills! Chills! Yes, It's Springtime in the Peloton

Te-rain in Sp--Uh, Italy--Falls Main-ly On the Pla-ain: yep, it's not only your fabulous spring racing, but it's also your Tour de France preview, baby, as Tirreno-Adriatico roars off tomorrow with big cheeses Contador Cadel Purito and Froomey staring down and psyching out their Tour rivals, Cav and Sagan plotting mutual destruction, and Cancellara--well, just hoping to get *something* out of his !@#$ experience at RadioSkank in this lifetime. Good luck there Alberto--and Froome, try not to rub the whole "suuuuuure, you don't want to defend the Tour" thing in Wiggo's face too much! Here, yer Tirreno dreamboats macho up for the cameras:

Let Them Eat Cake: and wow, despite Bernard Hinault continually slamming his country's entire current cycling generation as a pack of lazy talentless babyfied thumb-sucking wuss-weenies, the French *continue* not to blow this week, as not only did shock-victor Blel Kadri bag the Roma Maxima (before Pippo Pozzato erroneously celebrated his own win behind) out from under the Italians, but, at Paris-Nice, upstart FDJ rider/French champ Nacer Bouhanni grabbed both a wholly surprising stage win *and* the leader's jersey before a miserable bloody (but fortunately not so serious) next-day crash-out. Get well soon, Nacer--heck knows these guys need you! Tomorrow: a lumpy sumbitch puts on the hurt, honey! Meantime, I stand by my (hopeless) belief that Tom Boonen is merely stealthily *pretending* to be screwed as he desperately works to get his form back in time for the cobblestones. Yeah, keep yappin', wannabes, he'll still kick your !@# at Roubaix!

It's My Party and I'll Cry If I Want To: last but not least, in "Ah, JAYSUS already!" news, Sports Illustrated has scored the next desperate image-rehab victim-playing interview with Lance "I Won't Talk to the Press Anymore" Armstrong, this time, apparently, in which Lance is gonna tell all about that time those bastards Floyd and Tyler stole his sports drinks from the fridge in his private jet, and how if he'd only be granted the kind of pissant punishment reserved for laterne-rouge nobodies who are six seconds late to sign-in--which is already way, way harsher than he deserves--*and* he received a groveling knee-scrapin' apology from his lowly-nobody witch-hunt persecutors, he'd generously forgive Travis Tygart for *everything.* Gee, thanks, Lance--I'm sure those guys are just sittin' at home waiting for your benediction!

Oh, For !@#$'s *Sake*: In Which I Solve All This Stupid Doping !@#$

Look, particularly now that it's *racing* season, I'm getting deeply irked with all the drug drama suckin' up the headlines. But it's so damn incessant you can't just ignore it--it almost feels dishonest, somehow. So here's one all-encompassing proposal, so we can all get back to loving actual cycling in peace:

1. No, *Indurain* doped? I *get* it. They almost all doped. They're almost all dirtbags, and frankly, Big Mig, Pantani, Cipo, Contador, and all those guys are *still* gonna stay national heroes no matter how much evidence you pile up in front of everybody, so quit wastin' yer breath, suck it up, and move *on* already! And yes, "just" doping *is* different from being a whistleblower-intimidating, bullying, omerta-enforcing goonmeister, so no, both remaining fanboys, Lance *doesn't* get a pass.

2. Still, that doesn't mean some sincere repentance isn't in order. You alive? You doped? You think you beat a clean guy? Give him some dough, hand over the jersey, and apologize. Same to anyone else who gets busted now, with the addition of handing over all the proceeds from yer ill-gotten lucrative endorsement deals. Bonus points if you offer to let 'im kick your !@#. There--done!

3. It's awesome that Mellow Johnny's is giving equal prize money to men and women's mountain bike race winners, and running a great race to boot. But Lance--you're still a !@#$.

4. Anyone who says they paid a doping doc, particularly a gyno, just for "medical" or "training advice" is presumptively a lying sack of crap. Next guy who claims it has to get a full-on annual gynecological exam to prove it's legit. Gentlemen, start your speculums!

5. Anyone who doped and admitted it--great. It's a true service to cycling. Now *shut the hell up* about your poor tormented soul !@#dammit!

6. Any !@#wad directeur sportif who arranged for his riders to dope with medically inept or negligent dip!@#$s gets to have the same procedure done to him/herself. Not to worry, it's all perfectly safe--right?

7. "I only doped until [exact date statute of limitations ran out or lucrative subsequent contract kicked in]." Give us a break already!

8. Face it, if we eliminate all the DSes doped, or had their riders dope, there won't be anyone who knows diddly-squat left to even run the sport. 'Fess up, then shut up--you're in. So Vaughters or (gack) Riis--congratulations. Eki and the rest of you clowns--you're fired.

9. Teams--you're just as disgusting. Rider gets punished, team gets punished. Bet you'll know who your boys are seeing in the off-season *then*!

10. Fellow fans--sadly, people are still doping. Hopefully not as much at the moment, but doping. The narcs *just* developed a new test to detect microdosing? Party on peloton! Am I the *only* one pissed in advance we're gonna have to go through all this 5 years from now, *again*?

So let it be written, so let it be done with. Now let's get on to the fabulous Strade Bianche, and Cancellara--time to show your form!

Woo-hoo, We're On the Cobbles, Baby!; and, Andy Schleck Dissed *Again*

Finally!: yes, it's time to kick off the venerable (and painful!) Belgian Classics season at last, baby! The races: the exciting (and cobblier) Omloop Het Nieuwsblad, and the "infernal race with the heavenly finish," Kuurne-Brussels-Kuurnage. The players: a newly-healed Tom Boonen juuuuust testing his form at Omloop, Cav defending his Kuurne title, Thor desperate to show his season-opening win wasn't a one-off, ever-threat Juan Antonio Flecha, the dashing Pippo Pozzato, and, in its virgin appearance on the cobbles, intrepid new African squad MTN-Qhubeka. Most importantly, the weather forecast: bbbrrrrrrr, with a chance of snow for Kuurne on Sunday! Here, Sep Vanmarcke edges Tommeke for last year's Omloop win: Allez allez boys--and good luck staying uprightish!

Sturm und Schleck: last but not least, yap, Vicioso tried to hide from the Op Puerto trial and Eki had to suspend him to keep Katusha's new WorldTour spot, yap, Tyler terrifyingly weed black after Fuentes mangled him, yap--nope, the big news is poor ol' (well, young) Andy Schleck again, as his Grand Tour rivals are already showing impressive form and, cringingly, even his own country writes him off as a hopeless lumpen slacker before the season hardly gets going. Damn, Andy, get your act together already--remember, if you don't, you won't be able to blame scumlord rival tactics or unfortunate equipment failures when you blow it this year!

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!

It's Yer Valentine's Day Gift List for the Peloton!

The hell with flowers, chocolates, an overpriced dinner at an overpriced restaurant, or that Naughty Nurse outfit you saw in a catalog--our darling peloton could use a *real* token of affection for St. Valentine's Day, and it's up to us to give it to 'em! Ergo:

1. Lance Armstrong: a heart. 'Cause someone's gonna piss 'im off again sometime, and we all know what he does when *that* happens. For the sake of everyone else, someone, give him a heart!

2. Andy Schleck: mojo. The poor boy really, really needs his mojo back. How else can Contador take any pride in kicking his !@# in July?

3. Pat "Dick" McQuaid: a spine. The spine to own up to what he did, whatever it was. The spine to step down. And the spine to respect the sport, the riders, and the fans enough to do it.

4. Marianne Vos: dang, what *do* you give someone who's already won everything she could possibly want? Well then, equal podium babes for the ladies, I say!

5. Johnny Hoogerland: body armor. A light, flexible, comfortable, impenetrable set of full team kit. Nothing says "I love you" like a gift that keeps you in one piece!

6. Purito Rodriguez: a lovely new team and a bangin' new contract. Unless Katusha gets its ProTour license Friday. In which case, Ekimov has to strew rose petals in his path for every single step Rodriguez takes next season. Show him the appreciation he deigned to show you guys this whole time, Eki!

7. Jesus Manzano: a clean bill of health. Jeez, did you *read* that !@#$ he went through at Kelme--no-one, dirty doper or not, deserves that!

8. Mark Cavendish: y'know, he *did* step in for Tom Boonen at the last minute in Qatar, to quite brilliant effect. I mean, the race don't ride itself. Give Cav the green jersey at the Tour!

Well, dear reader(s), them's my sweet wishes for the sport we hold so dear. So pop yourselves some champagne, feel the love, and enjoy the season ahead!

A UCI Love-In! A Spanish/Italian Bloodbagapalooza! A Saganarama!

Age of Aquarius: yes, it's just all peace, love, and--surprise!--total impotence at UCI, as they finally confront on the hard questions like, how much exactly did you cover for Armstrong? why do you only go after cyclists who piss you off? and, how come you haven't caught anyone higher'n a cul-de-sac tricycle rider for the last five years? with this scorched-earth, once-and-for-all solution to the scourge of doping in cycling: come bang on a snare drum in the woods chanting around a campfire wearing a loincloth, and, like, share your innermost feelings with us, man! Gee, *thanks*, Captain Love-In, *that* oughta solve all our problems! Oh, fine, break out the body paint Pat "Dick", we can all just paint flowers and peace signs on each others' torsos while you ignore everyone who could possibly change cycling for the better, *again*...

"Danger" to Public Health? But Fuentes Doped Me Up Just *Dandy*, Thank You Very Much!: and, as Ivan "So Close, But Yet So Far" Basso tries to sell the same ol' "I only attempted to dope" snake oil again, and the far more plausible we love (shut up! is too! I'm in my happy place!) Joseba Beloki claims never to have met Dr. Eufemiano "Gyno to the Male Stars" Fuentes at all, legendary pin-up/sprint icon Mario Cipollini has just dodged a close one: apparently, the Italian narcs are already calling off their new investigation into his highly suspicious links to Fuentes because, the good Dr. has reportedly testified, the 70,000 euros Cipo gave to him was not for blood doping, or even the notoriously bull!@#$ "training advice," but for a strict and highly complicated regime of chest-hair waxing. Saved by the manscaping, Lion King--now cough up who frosted your highlights, or we're gonna slap your !@# in prison!

Hasta la Vista, Baby!: finally, in actual race news, it sure looks like Peter "The Terminator" Sagan is getting ready to whomp on his fast-men competitors in the big races, as he starts his season off with a sharp attack and the lead at the Tour of Oman. Watch out, Cav, and don't get too smug, Classics men--swooning fan club or not, this flashy kid's set to take you *on*! Here, the win on the day:

Cav! Fabian! Schleck! Hoogerland! and, Get Yer Red-Hot Lance Memorabilia Here

The Fast 'n' the Furious: yep, this season's sprint wars are already heating up, with Mark Cavendish already bagging Tom Boonen's wins at the Tour of Qatar and happily snarking about leaving the soulless lying corporate robots at Sky behind for the beer-snarfin' Belgian party-boys at Quick Step, Andre Greipel winning pretty much every race he's entered this season, and ever-good-guy Tyler Farrar nearly recovered physically and mentally from his bloody, miserable 2012. A small gripe: I gotta say, we're already kinda putting poor Greipel at an automatic fan disadvantage here in the who-you-gonna-root-for psychological-warfare contest. I mean, Mark "the Manx Missile" just sounds cool, but all Andre gets is the "German Gorilla"? Dang, why not just call him the Big Ol' Leaden Lumpwad whydontcha...

Andy Schleck Is Scr*wed! (So What Else is New): and, no luck *again* for the perpetually-hosed Andy "Jaysus, Can't I Finish Just *One F!@#$in' Race*" Schleck, now thwapped by a respiratory infection outta the Tour of the Mediterranean, tho' there may be some saving grace in that, having apparently threatened to whine Cancellara to death, Spartacus now sez he's still considering riding shotgun for the boy at the Tour de France. Andy, you're a great rider, but even Cancellara can't hold on to your handlebars on the downhills...anyway, feel better quick, so at least you've got a fighting chance in July!

Hoogerland Report: meantime, Johnny "Barbed Wire" Hoogerland is now close to hearing when he's gonna be free from the hospital after his vicious training crash with a car, and, while he's still got five broken ribs, some fractured vertebrae, and a host of other unpleasant wounds, it thankfully appears his liver is not actually as hard-hit as initially thought. Thank goodness for (very) small mercies, Hoogerland--now rest up, get well, and we'll see you back on the bike when you're ready!


And, If You Order Now, We'll Send You a Second One *Free*!: finally, as (insert acronym here) threatens to investigate/not investigate Lance Armstrong if he doesn't/does cooperate with (insert name of guy delusional LA fanboys still hate), it occurred to me, in the midst of the most notorious doping scandal in history, that you might wanna get yer Lance memorabilia before it skyrockets in value, which led me to this: yep, a genuine signed LA magazine is already gonna run you a brutal 8 buckaroos, my friend, so buy now to ensure yer comfortable retirement later! See, Lance, we *do* still care....

It's Operacion Bull!@#$! LL Cool Sanchez Just Busted! And, Yer Race News Roundup

If You're Gonna Do It, Do It Right (Do It With Me): look, we all know the Spanish have long held a, well, business-like view of doping. Which is why it seems particularly ridiculous to have a whole !@#damn tribunal just to establish that--prior to the enactment of actual *anti*-doping legislation in the wake of the Operacion Puerto scandal--they basically did it really well. I mean, you've got Dr. Eufemiano "Gyno to the Male Stars" Fuentes swearing he drugged his clients to the highest standards of cleanliness, sniffing he wouldn't even treat lying rat-witness Jesus Manzano because he did coke for fun which unlike cheating honest athletes out of race wins by stuffing riders full of banned drugs is morally wrong, offering to name names and being shut up by the judge, you've got ONCE/Liberty Seguros mastermind Manolo Saiz saying sure he gave his riders express permission to see Fuentes and happened to be carrying 60,000 euro to pay him at a cafe but it's not like he thought the boys'd actually take him up on it, and the worst-case scenario here is "Naughty Fuentes, you oughta have doped 'em better?" No, we don't want any rider pulling a Riccardo Ricco' and damn near killing themselves with their own stupidity, and yes, it's important that the full story of cycling's shameful history comes out--but now that doping's actually legally *bad* in Spain, why not focus on those more recent scenarios instead? Oh, wait....

Oh, Give It *Up*, Rabobank!: meantime, I wholly believe that Rabobank--which was surely, like UCI, already aware that near-Tour de France winner Michael Rasmussen had missed pre-Tour doping controls before righteously yankin' him outta the race only when everybody else found about it--was shocked to find out that he'd been doping ALONG WITH EVERY OTHER FREAKIN' RIDER ON THEIR TEAM. But what strikes me as particularly moronic is that *today* it's gone and suspended former ONCE/Liberty Seguros prodigy LL Cool Sanchez, who was publicly linked to Operacion Puerto back in 2006 for chrissakes but is only now being found out by a team management who's apparently been reading their newspapers in reverse order for the last 7 years. Not to excuse him for being just an impressionable, bright-eyed kid at the time--which he was, right along with then-fellow nobody Alberto Contador--but can we all quit this idiot fakery where we all buy that no-one's been doping since 2006? Except the Chicken. And Armstrong. And Schleck. And Contador. And...

Wait, People "Race Bikes" In This Sport?: and, in actual riding news this week, Fabian Cancellara's decided to bail on the Tour de France--leaving, if humanly possible, the already Frank-less Andy Schleck even more screwed in July--the 'crossers don their scuba gear for today's flood-ravaged Worlds in Kentucky, Kirsten Wild tore up the tarmac and scared the crap outta her fellow sprinters the whole Ladies Tour of Qatar, and the menfolk get ready to head out on the desert tomorrow. Wow Cav, you're pretty sharp, but even you don't always whale on 'em like this:

Uh, "Truth And Reconciliation" Means *I* Get Amnesty, Right?; and, Andy Schleck Throws a Snit

Pat "Dick" McQuaid, Cowardly Tool: so, having successfully emasculated its own "Independent Commission" looking at UCI links to the Lance Armstrong doping affair, UCI has now managed to use its own sabotage as an excuse to shut the thing down entirely, saying since unfortunately USADA and WADA no longer have faith in the inquiry, they'll just have to form a general Truth and Reconciliation Commission instead, which, sadly, won't see the light of day til at least the end of the year. Pat, I'm so *glad* you're part of cycling's New Clean Era--at least, I sure bet Armstrong is!

Man, When Jens Calls You Out, You *Know* You !@#$ed Up: meanwhile, as cool arch-rival Contador nailed a hilly stage win at the Tour de San Luis, and just days after a charmingly optimistic Andy Schleck waxed poetic about his return to the peloton after his disastrous 2012 season--raising hopes he was not only physically but, for once, mentally ready for the challenges ahead at the Tour--Andy not only DNFd at the Tour Down Under on the final day's circuit due to a mechanical problem, but also flew into a petulant snit and unsportingly skipped the podium for the team classification, which RadioSkank, thanks to Jens being a god, actually won. Anyone else concerned that at this rate, if Andy don't get his *exactly* his way in July, he's gonna pull an Armstrong and be a petty little beeyotch to Contador on the podium? Here, not to rub it in or nothin', but Alberto goes for the win:

Now *That's* a Post-Racing Career: Can't quite score one of those rare-yet-lucrative DS gigs, haven't got the mad skills to be a ProTour mechanic, and don't want to be a lowly also-ran drug-mule for the cycling starts of today? Well, then, ex-riders, follow the ultra-cool example of former Lion King lead-outPaolo Fornaciari, who not only opened his own gourmet gelato shop after retirement, but also just won the World Championships in the discipline. For those of you (okay, us) with gelato fetishes, his winning concoction, "Macho Macho" (named after the ingredients, not, surprisingly, Cipollini's chest hair) was an almond gelato base with ribbons of bitter-orange marmalade and chocolate fondant, covered with slightly caramelized toasted almonds. Complimenti Paolo--and Landis, *see* what you could've become instead?!

Hein Verbruggen Bull!@#$ Alert!; and, Floyd Victims, Claim Yer Dough!

Now, That's Just Embarrassing: yes, in the latest CYA salvo, UCI ex-honcho/present PR nightmare Hein Verbruggen is defending its dirtbag-enabler practice of warning drug cheats that they were in serious danger of being busted, now on the grounds on that it was all nobly meant to "protect clean riders," because apparently, you "protect clean riders" by giving the dopers a heads-up to manipulate their blood values and snort those masking agents a little more carefully next time. Gee, *thanks*, Hein--why not protect the clean riders by actively sticking a giant drug-stuffed needle in the dopers' !@#es at the start line next time? *That'd* help the clean guys! Or, you could just slash their tires while they're waiting for the peloton to head off. Or, you could toss a coupla 50-pound lead weights in their musettes at the bottom of a climb. Or...

Money (That's What I Want): meanwhile, I see the FBI's sent out letters to the sweetly innocent donor-victims of the Floyd Fairness Fund informing 'em of their rights, but for my money, even better'n restitution--particularly if Floyd should run outta cash--would be some good ol' fashioned labor: y'know, he could come to your house and fix that leaky faucet, grout the bathtub, clean out your basement, all sorts of useful stuff. Hmmm, maybe I oughta call Armstrong about those posters I need framed--seems like he did a pretty good job with those seven yellow jerseys he posed under in his man-cave!

Brad Wiggins, Seeker of Anonymity: and, it seems Brad "I Hate the Press! Hey, Where Are You Guys Going?!" Wiggins has come back to earth about his chances to defend his Tour de France and decided to focus his energies on the perfect Giro, and, as I particularly hate to see anyone use either the superior Giro d'Italia or the Vuelta a Espana as a runner-up-!@#$% race for the Tour, I thought he just might want to take a peek at primo GC threat Vincenzo Nibali, who is apparently working hard to hone his time trial form:
Better watch out for him, Wiggo--'cause you ain't gonna have Froomey to balance 'im out in the mountains come May!

Speed Racer: last but not least, a big happy shout-out to Andre Greipel and Mark Cavendish, both starting off the Tour Down Under and Tour de San Luis with some respectable wins, and for Cav, anyway, laying waste to any doubts whatsoever about his spankin' new lead-out train. I got my own opinions on the sprint finishes, but I'm 100% sure Cav can take Andre in the smack-talk insult wars, so Andre, you might want to step it up on that front before the Manx Missile really puts on the hurt!

UCI Celebrates Lance's Silence: Truth and Reconciliation Can Suck It, Baby!

Woo-Hoo, Let's All Go Out for a Pint Instead!: yes, in their strongest effort yet to clean up and keep clean the sport we love, the UCI independent commission on Fixing This Whole !@#damn Mortifying Mess is really putting the hammer down on a petrified peloton--they're...uh, well, it's flurrying out today, so they're not gonna meet at all. Y'know, when Pat "Dick" McQuaid was a whippersnapper, he had to trudge to and from UCI headquarters uphill, in both directions, barefoot, through 3 feet of snow, a blinding blizzard, a howling nor'easter, biting sleet, beating sun, two tornadoes, three hurricanes and an earthquake, and he *still* managed to protect and enable every single cash-cow doper-celebrity cheater-dirtbag in the entire peloton, you quivering cowering whimpering weenies! Oh, man, better just draft a buncha Belgian hardmen to get the job done instead...

Injury Alert!: and holy cow (hmm, I should've saved that for some ancient-history Contador crack), best wishes for a speedy recovery for Classics god Tom Boonen, whose innocuous scrape on the elbow during a mountain-bike ride apparently turned into a swollen season-threatening mess and was just operated on in Belgium. Get *well*, Tommeke--if Fabian or any of those guys are gonna try to take you down on the cobbles, it's only fair they have to beat you at your best!

And We're Off!: finally, as Alberto Contador contemplates the hopeless Giro-Tour double--what, you *trying* to give Andy Schleck some false hope for July, you wisenheimer?--the indomitable Jens has started off the season in grand fashion at the Tour Down Under pre-crit, figuring "I may as well do something stupid and get it going.” Not to be outdone, Cav, Petacchi, Rodriguez (still tragically stuck with Katusha), Tejay, Thor (come back, Thor!) and Nibali test the legs, try the new lead-outs, and size up the competition at the Tour de San Luis. Please, dear peloton, *anything* to purge the last two weeks outta every lovin' cycling fan's head--now get on the road, get crackin', and remind us why we keep watching you clowns! Here, Saxo-Tinkoff gets its groove on:

It's the Lance/Oprah Interview Racejunkie Awards!

Yes folks, I usually don't throw a huge glitzy Oscar-esque awards show just for a one-off (well, two-off) event, but this slutfest debacle was so very special it more'n deserves one of its own. Prizes: seven dirt-black swill-covered jerseys, and Lance gets twenty minutes alone and defenseless in a dark room with Frankie, Betsy, Emma, Floyd, Tyler, Simeoni, and...damn, who *doesn't* this goon deserves twenty minutes with? Anyhoo, here they are....

Understatement o' the Century: "I am an arrogant prick." Even better than "I am not the most credible guy in the world right now!"

What the !@#$...Hey, Why Me?! Award: *really*? All the people he coulda thrown under the bus, and he calls Christian Vande Velde a liar for saying he was pressured to dope? I mean, okay, CVV cheated and profited handsomely by it, the guy's no saint, but geez, throw the freakin' Easter Bunny under the bus whydontcha?

I Am the World's Most Colossal !@#hole Award: I destroyed so many people for telling the truth about me I don't even *remember* 'em anymore--ha ha! Gee, Lance, I bet Emma--y'know, the one you basically called a drunken whore whose entire life you wrecked--remembers it pretty well! *What* a wanker...

Corollary Sensitive New Age Guy Statuette: sure, I called Betsy Andreu a crazy, lying bitch--but hey, at least I didn't say she was fat! Oh, Lance, the hits just keep on comin'...

My Handlers Went Over This Veeeery Thoroughly With Me Prize: I did not dope or perjure myself within the statute of limitations. I did not dope or perjure myself within the statute of limitations. I did not dope or perjure myself within the statute of limitations. Because spending 3 tranquillo years outta the peloton just about guarantees a guy a Tour podium, you weasel!

Holy Crap, the Poor Boy is Delusional Award: All the !@#$ you did and you still think you were on a "level playing field" with the other dimwit hotel-fridge internet-supplement dope fiends? See, Jan, forget the power, the money, the payoffs, the team of superhuman minions, the cutting edge technology, the warnings about doping controls...he'd'a beat you all along anyway...

Is That Violins Playing? Prize: Wah, wah, wah. So how come every child of a single mom isn't a ruthless lying cheating scumwad?

Weren't You Listening, You Morons?! Award: that was *UCI* I bought off, not USADA! Learn your acronyms you ignorant twits...

Let Them Eat Cake Clueless Whine o' the Interview: oh, he's sorry all right--sorry he lost a sweet $75 mil, that is. Phew, good thing he can still afford to sprinkle diamonds on his Wheaties for breakfast!

And the Moral Of the Story Is Smarmy Wrap-Up o' 2013: the truth shall set you free, baby. And I *still* ain't saying the half of it--suckers!

Well, dear readers, them's mine, and if I missed any awards he should've gotten, I hope you'll award 'em for me. Now let's all take a loooooooooooooooong hot shower 'til we finally feel clean again, remember why we still all love this sordid sport, and get ready for the Tour Down Under, baby!

It's He-eeeeeere--the Lance/Oprah Interview Transcript!

Voice-Over: Cancer survivor. Icon. Inspiration to millions. Seven-time winner of the Tour de France. And now, shadowed by controversy. Today, my candid, no-holds-barred interview with the one and only Lance Armstrong.

Oprah Winfrey: Lance, I understand you had a difficult childhood. Tell us what that was like.

Lance Armstrong: It was awful. (Tries to cry; rubs chili pepper in corner of eye instead)

OW: Mine, too. And like you, I triumphed over terrible adversity. Tell us what that was like.

LA: Well, I found solace in sports. And I triumphed over terrible adversity.

OW: That's so inspiring. What happened next?

LA: I found out that I was good at cycling.

OW: Now, "cycling," what is that?

LA: It's when a bunch of snotty Europeans with foreign accents wear stupid spandex outfits and stuff themselves with illegal drugs biking all over socialist countries for money.

OW: That sounds terrible.

LA: It is. Then, I discovered I was sick.

OW: And thankfully, you triumphed over that.

LA: Yes. And I set out to become an even better cyclist than I had been.

OW: That's so inspiring. And how did you do that?

LA: Well, I worked hard, which is the American way. Also, I did what I had to do, but only because a guy named Johan Bruyneel made me do it.

OW: That name sounds European. It must have been very difficult for you.

LA: It was. And I told my teammates that if they didn't do what I had do too, I would crush them like vermin and they would be consigned to the dustbin of history.

OW: That must have been so inspiring for them. Then what?

LA: Well, I donated a bunch of money to organizations who could bust me for just trying to compete equally with everyone else. Just so they could buy nice new lab equipment though.

OW: That's so generous of you. So what happened next?

LA: Well, I kept on beating Europeans. And I'm American. So that's, like, better.

OW: So you inspired millions of young Americans to become cyclists. That's so inspiring. Now, there's something you're not telling us.

LA: Well, I didn't want to make a big deal out of it...

OW: That's so humble of you. But you started an incredibly successful organization dedicating to fighting cancer that inspired millions of people, didn't you?

LA: Well, yes. And I used that to shut up my critics. Who were Europeans, and a bunch of European-lovers, who also wear stupid spandex clothes, ride their bikes on the roads where there are supposed to be pickup trucks, and eat, like, these ridiculous tiny "energy gels" instead of barbecue.

OW: I love my yellow bracelet. But while you were inspiring millions, something was terribly wrong, wasn't it?

LA: Yes. Some of my teammates tried to have their own careers. With Europeans.

OW: That must have been heartbreaking.

LA: Yes (rubs chili pepper into eye again). Then, a bunch of other guys got busted for doping.

OW: Now, "doping," what is that?

LA: It's what I did better than anyone else. Because I'm American.

OW: That's fantastic. So why was that bad?

LA: Well, a bunch of bitter has-beens were out to get me. Just because I tried to destroy their lives for telling the truth about me.

OW: That must have been horrible for you.

LA: Yes. And then, I called Floyd Landis, Tyler Hamilton and Greg LeMond to apologize even though I hadn't done anything wrong, and they were totally mean to me.

OW: Who?

LA: Well, they're--

OW: So you apologize for nothing to some people we've never heard of, and they were mean to you. How selfish and uncaring of them.

LA: It was.

OW: And yet you triumphed over that pain. That's so inspiring. Lance, let's lay it on the line for all the world to hear: is there anything else you want to tell us?

LA: Yes. I did this all for me. Me, ME, M--(Rolex-clad forearm appears from off-camera, whacks Lance upside the head)--my children. And my fans. And for America.

OW: Lance, thank you for sharing your story with us. It's very inspiring. And if you look under your chair, you'll find the keys to a BRAND NEW PRIUS!

LA: (Shrieks with delight and jumps up and down clapping his hands as credits roll)

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!

Holy Crap This Isn't a Joke: Lance is Yappin' on Oprah

Which can only mean one thing, dear reader(s): he's going for the I-couldn't-help-it-everyone-else-was-doing-it-I-was-just-trying-to-inspire-others-after-a-terrifying-illness-and-remarkable-comeback-so-now-you-can't-criticize-me-without-looking-like-a-colossal-!@#$wad-tearjerker-martyr-hero-gullible-fanboy-who-doesn't-give-a-rat's-!@#-about-cycling sympathy vote. Am I the only one who's just about two seconds and a strong personal sense of ladylike restraint away from hurling right now? Thought not! Still, it's gotta be tough faking your first human emotions, especially for the cameras, so in order to help Lance connect with the intended audience, I think he could use a few tips:

1. "I had a tough childhood." Who doesn't love kids?

2. "I discovered something I was good at." Self-esteem blossoms!

3. "Someone else believed in me." Validation!

4. "I worked really hard." He's grateful!

5. "I started winning, like, out of nowhere." Success!

6. "I hit the lowest of low points." Yes, and everyone, even everyone who hates you, is genuinely glad you're okay.

7. "I had to prove to myself I could do it." Yes, and everyone, even everyone who hates you, is genuinely glad you could.

8. "But I found out it wasn't so easy." Obstacles!

9. "Everyone else was doing it." Amoral European socialists!

10. "I trusted Johan." Vulnerability!

11. "He guided me." Lack of personal responsibility!

12. "It was the only way for a level playing field." Justification!

13. "I still beat them anyway." Proof you deserved it!

14. "I am so, so deeply sorry." Remorse!

15. "I've learned a precious lesson." Self-awareness!

16. "I hope to start anew." Redemption!

17. "For my family, for my fans, and all of cycling." Selflessness!

Well, Lance, that oughta tide you over, unless someone actually asks you to explain your years of vindictiveness, how it could possibly have been a level playing field with all your money power influence and doped-up superdomestiques, and your totally callous exploitation of others' sympathy for personal gain. And as you've surely considered carefully, that ain't gonna happen on Oprah. 'Til then, try not calling anyone a "liar" or a "whore," keep that $250,000 you offered to USADA in the bank, and you'll do juuuuuuuuuuuuust fine!

UCI: Hypocritically Hosing Bitchin' New Teams Since 2013

You suck, UCI!: as if there weren't already enough reasons to loathe narc-supremos UCI, woo-hoo! now, there's even more, as UCI gives a pointless and gigantic hosing to cool new South African Pro Continental squad MTN-Qhubeka, which helps give bikes to children in rural areas in return for work done to help their environment and their communities. How'd UCI screw 'em? Well, if UCI don't sanction races, a Pro Conti squad can't race in anything but its own national championships, and that just really sticks it to a squad. Y'know, I get--heck, I downright admire--UCI's wholesome rule on refusing to ok races sponsored by organizations promoting cigs, porno, or beverages with an alcohol-by-volume percentage over 15. So it might almost make sense, in the interests of protecting grown-up human beings from the nefarious, nay, near-criminal influence of South Africa's Tour of Richelieu--named for, and sponsored by, a brandy company--for UCI not let it be a UCI-sanctioned gig. Until you think o' this: why, then, do you schmoes sanction the Amgen "EPO" Tour o' California every year? No doubt, Amgen is a fine and noble company, and EPO, used for its intended purposes, has greatly helped the lives of many people. But the very same UCI rule also prohibits sponsorships promoting "any other products that might damage the image of UCI or the sport of cycling in general." Uh, I don't know if y'all at UCI have heard, but illicit use of EPO has actually been linked to some preeeeeeeeeeettttty major damage to the sport (and you clowns, too) of late. I guess the devil liquor is the real danger to the sport, all right! Next up: UCI sanctions the Dr. Michele Ferrari "Dope Your Blood Up" Tour o' Chem Labs. You suck, UCI--free MTN-Qhubeka!


Oh, and Lance is reportedly considering admitting to his doping. Because he feels guil--uh, because he wants to be able to compete in triathlons again. Glad to see his "conscience" is kickin' in!

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!

It's Yer 2013 Year in Preview (Yeah, You Read Right)!

Sure, Lance went down, Tom Boonen came back up, and Brad "I Hate Publicity" Wiggins played guitar on stage with Oasis--by golly, it's been a bitchin' 2012. But what will *2013* bring the riders, journalists, and ever-lovin' fans of this fabulous sport? Well, dear and curious reader(s), here it is: yer 100% accurate, 200% disreputable 2013 Year In Preview!

January: team-camp windup! Andy Schleck hones time-trial form by folding into energy-gel-sized packet, tucking into Fabian Cancellara's jersey pocket; Wiggo & Froomey in mano-a-mano combat for Tour supremacy; Astana, ex-Rabobank, Lampre join Movement for Credible Cycling, ban outside testing, promise to monitor own guys "real good."

February: Arbitration time! Johan Bruyneel rats out Armstrong, makes millions with new book "Douchebags: It's All Vaughters' Fault"; Peter Sagan loses Tour of Qatar to Cav when stops mid-sprint to mug for cameras with adoring fans.

March: Time for the Classics, baby! Cav takes Milano-Sanremo as Sagan distracted admiring own reflection in metal barrier; Boonen bags Gent-Wevelgem while actually at home taking nap; UCI "Truth and Reconciliation" Commission formed, issues lifetime ban against Greg LeMond.

April: It's the Hell of the North, honey! Thor Hushovd takes Paris-Roubaix as field marks Tom Boonen, shocked BMC says "dang, even *we* didn't realize he was riding"; Andy Schleck sweeps Ardennes Classics, credits Frank for "training advice," immediately surrounded by narcs for 367 contemporaneous drug tests.

May: what else, Il Grande Giro! Wiggins drops Giro bid, didn't realize there were "all these big mountain thingies in it"; Hesjedal misses key break politely helping chief rival change flat tire; Nibali takes maglia rosa after inspiring pep talk in which Vinokourov threatens to break Vincenzo's kneecaps if he blows it.

June: Tour de France prep time! UCI drops testing, sez "bio passport's already got it covered," peloton overwhelms flights, hotel rooms in Spain; RadioSkank team doctor successfully releases Andy Schleck's deathgrip on Frank's ankles, drags him screeching on flight to Paris; Alberto Contador packs on 18 kilos chowing on chips, soda since no one can beat him anyway.

July: Tour de France, baby! Guy drops harmless gum wrapper on course, enraged Cadel Evans plows him over with team bus; Froome personally offers to help Wiggins with bike-position adjustment, ride coincidentally disintegrates into carbon dust on stage 13 as Froome too far up road to hear desperate pleas for help; Contador gains 42-minute lead on 1st stage, everyone else just gives up and goes home.

August: it's the fabulous Vuelta! Valverde sets time-trial record, immediately removed from race; Euskaltel climbs wrong mountains, turns around to climb right ones, still takes sprinters' jersey despite extra week and a half in the saddle; Andy Schleck nails Guinness World Record for Post-Tour Whining.

September: It's the World Championships! Purito Rodriguez wraps up Vuelta a Espana as Contador misses start time on penultimate day practicing "pistolero" victory gesture; Marianne Vos takes women's road race, men's time trial, all U-23 events, the Stanley Cup, and two playoff spots in World Series; Paolo Bettini gives up on men's squadra azzurra, wins Worlds road race himself.

October: it's yer season finale, folks! Damiano Cunego shows up for "Race of the Falling Leaves" on wrong day, arrested whanging Pat "Dick" McQuaid over head with spoke wrench for changing the schedule; Tyler Hamilton corners Lance Armstrong outside Aspen restaurant men's room, noogies relentlessly; new Kazakh president Vinokourov buys whole peloton to domestique Nibali with pocket-change scraped up behind couch cushions on enormous yacht.

November: time for meaningless post-season doping bans! Jens admits last 20 years of "coffee" actually viscous liquid EPO, gets 10-minute ban and ticker-tape parade; Contador accidentally contaminated shaking Vinokourov's hand at charity event, gets 20 years breaking rocks on Craphole Island and lifetime exile from human society.

December: team camps again! Sky cancels entire 2014 season when no-one in organization can pass their doping-virginity test without lying through their teeth; Quick Step to Colosseum for gladiator training, Patrick Lefevere fired when Tony Martin eaten by released lions; Fabian Cancellara escapes from RadioSkank hotel by making rope from entire team's stash of bar tape.

Well, let's raise a glass and toast our sport--and hope none of these eejits do anything even worse next year!

It's the 2013 Racejunkie Awards!

Oops, 2012, Whatever: It's been a smashing, exciting, surprising, and periodically squick-inducing year in our beloved cycling, dear readers, and in honor of all our sweet peloton's done to entertain, thrill, and even annoy us, it's time to honor and thank the worthy (and un-)with our Official 2012 Racejunkie Awards! The prizes: glory, immortality, and, as I cannot afford the 40-foot marble statue of a three-horned six-eyed four-clawed forked-tail fire-breathing bike-riding beast-demon that you know who deserves plunked right down flat in the middle o' Texas, I swear if any of these guys even hear of their awards' existence, I'll throw in a beautiful custom-embroidered racejunkie cap to boot, so without further ado, here goes!

The Holy Crap I Think He Just Restored My Faith in Cycling Award: Ryder Hesjedal, taking the beautiful Giro d'Italia--and his country's first Grand Tour win--for noble Canada. Humble, grateful, hard-working, and most of all just obviously so very happy in his shining maglia rosa--Ryder, this one, and hopefully many more, are for you!

Aiiiiggggghhhhh! What the Hell Are You Doing? Oh My God He's Doing It! Ride of the Year: look, with his brilliant snatch of the Vuelta on the verge of stinging defeat, the now-wily veteran Alberto Contador's come a loooooong way tactically since he couldn't find his outta the team bus without a DS, but if your heart wasn't in your throat when Tom Boonen took off solo a bazillion fruitless kilometers from the line at Paris-Roubaix, you were clearly tranquilized like a runaway rhino during the race. Faaaan-tastic, Tommeke!

Comeback Kid of 2012: yes, it's a double for our Belgian studpuppy--everyone, us included, who thought your best days might be behind you were clearly permanent residents in Dumb!@# City. Congratulations--and next year, let's all !root for Thor or Philippe Gilbert to bag this one, shall we?

I Call Bull!@#$ Award: no doubt, Wiggo deserved to win his Tour de France, and a cheery salute to him and the justly-proud Brits for his great accomplishment. But *really*, what's next, o Tour de France organizers--20 straight days of flat time trialling and maybe a speed bump on the Champs Elysees? No, it's not supposed to be the fearsome Giro or Vuelta--but dang, it *is* still the Tour, you guys!

Shut Up Shut Up Shut *Up* Prize: Contador, Valverde--heck, damn near the whole Spanish peloton while we're at it--the less you self-destructive nimrods keep defending Lance Armstrong, the better. You *want* a GPS implanted in your !@# by the narcs all next season? Just keep it up, kids, keep it up!

Doping Excuse of 2012: well, Frank Schleck didn't exactly *claim* monthly lady cramps as the reason for his banned-diuretic use, and frankly there's been rather a dearth of high-profile drug pozes since as we all know only the broke-!@# Masters guys are cheating now, so for once, this 'un was a toughie. Ergo, this year, it's a group award for all o' USPostalDiscoverySkank, with their two-toned mantra of "I Never Saw It!" and "He Made Me Do It!" I mean, don't parents call bull!@#$ on their *toddlers* for this garbage?!

Scandal o' the Year: the late-December Hinault/Lemondesque Wiggo/Froome smackdown over who'll get Sky team leadership at next year's Tour de France. Close, but just kidding--it's you-know-who, and you-know-why!

Punk-!@# Move of the Year (Road): y'know, with their boundless braggadocio, smug smack-talk, and zeppelin-sized egos, sprinters are pretty annoying as it is, but there's a biiiiiiiig difference between the usual adrenaline-fueled argy-bargy at the barriers, and flying across the helpless field like a rubberband-shot spitball, and Roberto Ferrari spectacularly--and obnoxiously--crossed that line, taking the helpless Tyler Farrar and enraged Mark Cavendish right down. Your award? Apologize for real this time, or Cav gets ten minutes alone with you behind the podium!

Punk-!@# Move of the Year (Wussy Little Bureaucrat): really, Pat "Dick" and Hein at UCI? You're gonna threaten a broke-as-dirt true-fan journalist for doing his job with integrity and rightly calling your own disgusting actions and self-serving motives into question? Yeah, hide behind your lawyers' skirts you squalling babies--karma, I say!

Revenge of the Little Boy Who Called Wolf Award: congrats Floyd Landis and Tyler Hamilton, it's a two-fer. Sure, you lied the first ten thousand times you spoke to the press and your trusting fans--but when you finally told the truth, you sure made it count!

Crash of the Year (Dog-Wielding Dimwit): to Philippe Gilbert, stage 18, Tour de France, taken out by a humongous canine whose owners apparently thought it was a dandy idea to let it wander into the road as the peloton passed through. Road Rage o' 2012 Corollary Award: Gilbert goes screaming nutwhack at the owner-dad and his sweet little daughter. Good thing John Lelangue was there to protect the guy!


Crash of the Year (I'm Sorry, Does This Look Like a !@#damn Bistro?): to the surely-well-meaning nice elderly gent who thoughtfully set up his lunch table and chair in the route of the Tour de France. You broke we love Samuel Sanchez' hand *and* made him cry, clueless sir!

Crash of the Year (Season-Screwing): honestly, I think this rightly goes to tough-guy Fabian Cancellars for his season-crushing crash at Tour of Flanders, but because it's Festivus, I'll give poor Andy Schleck the benefit of the doubt that his 'Skank-whipped mental fragility wouldn't have hosed him anyway and give 'im this one for his pure sorry suck of a pelvis-fracturing takedown at the Dauphine. Truly, get and stay strong, Andy--you're gonna need all you got next year!

What the !@#$? Head-Scratcher o' 2012: so lemme get this straight. Vande Velde, Dave Z, Hincapie, Vaughters, and Tommy D doped like fiends for years for their own personal bank accounts and glory, got a slap on the wrist for it--and at least two of 'em built freakin' retail empires thanks to it--and everyone still loves 'em. Meantime, Johan Bruyneel, who if nothing else generously helped make 'em the ill-gotten champs that they are, ends up desperate beleaguered and snarling in a dank mossy cave like a hound-cornered rabid wolverine. Jeez, Johan, maybe you shoulda been nicer to all those "douches" you called out, it mighta gotten you a few extra brownie points!

Rider Tweet o' the Year!: sure, Bruyneel's erratic see-saw of cheer and defiance was a lock--'til righteous (and righteously righteous!) car-victim Andy Jacques-Maines weighed in: "To the chickenshit motherfucker who rammed me from behind with their Black Chevrolet Impala, FUCK OFF. THEN DIE." And that's just him getting started. Oh, and nice work by 5-Hour Energy/Kenda to dump him from your roster via the press you clods--like he said, "I'm too drugged right now to deal with this shit."!

Dirty Dirty Dirty Award o' 2012: Alexander-freakin'-Vinokourov at the Olympics. Oh yeah, baby, cue the gross 70s blue-movie soundtrack, groom that porn-stache, and break out the gold chest-hair medallions. Clean sport, schmean sport--you loved it too, so man up and wallow in it!

I Swear To God I Feel Almost Really, Really Guilty About Being Delighted About This Award: oh, Roberto. As a faithful if slightly self-loathing Heras fan, and a devoted ween who still thinks fondly of Ivan Basso's peerless legal team from 2006, I've been whining for years that that undeserving freak Denis Menchov oughta give you back your Vuelta, and what happens just on the cusp of the New Year? That's right, this one's for the Spanish court that gave it to you--never has an act of technical if not factual justice been so sweet!

Saving Grace o' 2012: in an incredible year on the road for women's cycling, matched only by incredible disregard from the powers that be, Italy comes in to save the day: yep, it looks like the Giro Donne is back on. Thank you, thank you, whoever you are!

And Finally, Redemption Song of the Season: yeah, just *keep* complaining about Greg LeMond being a bitter ol' jealous once-was--aside from the fact that the man came back from a near-fatal gunshot wound back in the day for heck's sake, he was right all along, too, and a *bunch* of folks who ought to've known better were just too greedy, starstruck, glory-wh@ring, and dismissive to listen. Greg, vindication is yours--like you ever needed it!

Well, this year's sought-after and highly prestigious awards are out, the peloton's got the night off, and the champagne's popped--apologies to anyone whose accomplishments I've missed, and let the celebratory debauchery begin!

It's a Very Merry Festivus Gift List for the Peloton!

Y'know, between testifying against Lance Armstrong, slogging through army exercises at team camp, desperately cutting deals with prosecutors, and oh right, riding their bikes, the peloton's worked darned hard this fine 2012, so to thank 'em for all their hard work, and to bring them the effervescent joys of the holidays, I hereby present to Santa, the Tooth Fairy, and anyone else who brings free stuff my Very Merry Festivus Wish List for the Peloton:

Tom Boonen: A fifth. Paris-Roubaix, I mean. Make it a fifth Hell of the North for our daring hardman on his flying machine!

Joaquim Rodriguez: First in the ProTour. Second at the Giro d'Italia. And oh, *so* achingly close at the Vuelta! Purito, a Grand Tour must be yours! Dang, I guess you better get a ProTour contract first though...

Katusha: speaking of whom, a ProTour license. Why should only the dirtbags at Astana and RadioSkank get invited to the party?

Andy Schleck: the 2013 Tour de France. Because heck knows only an imaginary guy in a furry red suit could possibly get it for him at this rate!

Peter Sagan: a big, green jersey with "Tour de France" in huge letters right on the front. Why paint your silly *bike* in podium colors when you can just cut right to the chase with the actual *kit*?

Alberto Contador: duct tape. 'Cause if anyone you ever worked with starts yappin', and you don't slap it on their kissers but quick, you're scr@#ed!

Mark Cavendish: sure, he's still the best sprinter on earth, but Renshaw's still gone, and Cav sure does love him some sprint train. A tough-as-nails domestique with an iron-clad 10 year contract--what better security blanket could he ask for?

Cadel and Thor: drugs, man. Cutting-edge drugs. No, not to dope with--so they don't get knocked out all next season with some crap virus again! Oh, come on, surely all the usual peloton pushers can come up with *something* helpful from their scuzzy sources...

Marianne Vos: !@#$, what *can* you give someone who's already outright taken everything for herself? I hereby invent and bequeath you a Women's Vuelta and a Women's Tour de France next season, so she can try winning a trophy she hasn't already gotten!

Brad Wiggins: you remember that cool invisible plane that Wonder Woman always tooled around in? Yeah, but an invisible suit of armor around his bike--'cause if he rides the Tour de France, he's gonna need it for when Froome tries to bushwhack his wheelset with a flying musette next year!

Phil Liggett: shut up. I still love him. Stuff it! So I can't continue to see him live in pain. Santa, bring this dear man a just *little* cynicism, so he's not so easily hurt by a doper-idol next time!

Chris Horner: so now Lance isn't guilty because he never tested poz? I swear, those weird chemicals in all the fast food he's eatin' must be affecting his brain. An organic diet and a Whole Foods gift card, pronto!

Pat "Dick" McQuaid: nuts. The nuts to step down. The nuts to admit you were a pathetic, star-struck, vindictive, hero-worshipping toady who damn near destroyed the sport you purport to love just to bask in the reflected glow of B-list celebrity for one who didn't deserve an iota of what you or anyone else so eagerly gave him. Nuts for Pat, I say!

Lance Armstrong: A big, fat, lucrative book deal about your career, and the methods you used to make it. The catch: everything you write has to be true, and all the proceeds go to Paul Kimmage. Now grab yer tablet and get to writin'!

Last But Not Least, My Dear Reader(s): May your favorite cyclists win every race they aim for, unless Samuel Sanchez wants it. May your favorite rider be ever-clean. May your favorite squad grab the team classification at every Grand Tour. May Lance block you from his Twitter feed, Sir Wiggo grant you a castle, Cav keep his mojo, Contador go veggie, Cancellara start winning again, Tommeke never stop winning again, and your idol throw an empty spit-covered water-bottle right at you at the Tour of California.

So Happy Festivus to all, and to all a good night!

It's Yer 2012 Year in Review!

Yes, beloved reader(s), scarily, there's still a good two weeks left for the peloton to top even the disgusting ridiculous and downright pervy excesses of this year, but, in a preemptive nod to the brilliant work the lads and ladesses have already done, it's time to honor 'em all with our 2012 Year In Review!

January: he's baaaaa-aacccck--Valverde returns from doping ban, disconcertingly expects startling improvement in time-trial; Chloe Hoskins calls Pat "Dick" McQuaid a !@#$; Andre Greipel whomps at Tour Down Under.

February: Andy Schleck sez he'll win the Tour--yep, for sure!; Franco Pellizotti brings his golden locks back to work; Contador gets "two-year"-but-actually-six-months doping ban, Lance celebrates his twerp-nemesis' downfall--enjoy it while you can, buddy!

March: Tommeke out of funk, takes Harelbeke and Gent-Wevelgem--game on, baby!; Cav demands bidon-tossing crash-causing peloton "dickhead" "get a license"; Grand Tour-hopeful carnage at Volta a Catalunya. Allez Allez guys--if you can recover in time!

April: Thor's season in toilet; Cancellara crashes out of Flanders; Boonen bags Roubaix in thrilling breakaway; Samuel Sanchez gets Tour of Basque Country; Schlecks in Suckville, panic at RadioSkank!

May: Holy crap Ryder Hesjedal wins the Giro! back-bacon futures soar; Liquigas controls the peloton to no useful effect; Roberto Ferrari takes out half the sprinters with punk-!@# move, issues snarling !@#$-you non-apology; Schleck crashes as Purito gets his wings.

June: It's the Road to the Tour, honey! Ex-Lance-domestiques Dave Z, Hincapie, Vande Velde "don't feel like" doing Olympics--hmmm, that don't seem good; Horner kisses Johan Bruyneel's butt, gains RadioSkank team leadership; Wiggo strong at Dauphine'; Alberto thanks Bjarne with long-term contract. Now just get that boy some backup!

July: What else? Roadside assclown takes out tearful Samu'; psycho strews tacks on course, Cadel on rampage; Frank Schleck out, and positive for dope!; Chris Froome--uh, Bradley Wiggins wins the Tour; holy crap Vos and Vino take the gold!

August: it's the fabulous Vuelta a Espana, baby!; Lance officially down in flames, millions of delusional fan-boys continue support; Phil Liggett flips out (shut up! bite me! we still love him anyway!).

September: Contador rips Vuelta from Purito with One Great Day; Vaughters outs Dave Z, Vande Velde, Tommy D as dopers, and that ain't the half of it; Gilbert redeems blown season with smashing World Champ win; is there *any* race Vos can't grab when she wants to?

October: Swiss court rules Floyd Landis can't call UCI's Pat McQuaid and Hein Verbruggen "terrorists" "full of !@#$" or "Muammar Gaddafi", but *can* call 'em every other foul name you can think of; scathing USADA report is out, but Lance sez his "conscience is clear"--easy when you ain't got one, I guess; Julich out at Sky as squad demands (1) lie about your doping history or (2) you're fired. And you thought omerta' was out of style!

November: ex-doper and harborer-of-dopers Vaughters is clean cycling's hero-darling, Johan Bruyneel in bunker mode; team camps send riders to special-ops boot camp and underground salt mines; smug Armstrong poses with Tour jerseys in man-cave; disgraced UCI takes the high road as chief enabler McQuaid excoriates Landis and Hamilton as "scumbags." Well, sure beats "wanker," Pat!

December: Greg LeMond saves the sport; Euskaltel, Giro Donne screwed *again*; Tour champ/press-hater Wiggo is British Sports Personality of the Year; Katusha sues for ProTour license. Like they've got any worse morals than Astana, for heck's sake?

Well, my dears, that's it for the year so far--let's hope they don't screw up any worse before New Year's!

Some Friendly Suggestions for Our Pals At UCI

Well folks, there's been a lot of controversy in the cycling world the last few months, and sad to say, poor ol' UCI, faithful arbiter of clean sport and benevolent blesser o' squads 'n' races, has cruelly borne the brunt of an awful wunk o' critique. So, in the spirit of love, forgiveness, and charity that characterizes the season, I kindly offer my 7 Friendly Suggestions For UCI This Year:

1. Don't even bother going after Armstrong now. Really. You just look like !@#es.

2. Awarding ProTour licenses so late in the year, after the squads have already blown their entire budgets, is bull!@#$. Just look what you've done to Purito! Of course, *he'll* get an invite to any race he wants. The smaller but still treasured personal ambitions of the poor domestiques who otherwise toil selflessly for him all year--screwed!

3. Okay, you didn't give Katusha a license because ex-Lance lieutenant/loyal apologist Eki fails the morals clause. So you give one to Bjarne Riis instead? For god's sake, man!

4. You wanna talk "4 pillars" of butt-covering snake oil with cycling's "stakeholders?" Include the whistleblowers and journalists you !@#$ed--and no killing the messenger this time!

5. Women's cycling. Lemme get this straight--the women already barely get paid enough to keep themselves in chamois creme and Tampax, much less the high-end designer dope the boys are using, and now you wanna make it so expensive for races to test 'em the only alternative is to cancel them entirely? Wah, wah, exceptions, wah--why not spend the dough *yourself* on someone you might actually bust, you cheapskate enabling freaks? Oh, wait....

6. Ask not what Greg LeMond's done for cycling the last 25 years. Ask what you've done to destroy it. Then, we can maybe get somewhere!

7. Resign. It's too late for rehab, Pat. You've disgraced the organization, the sport, and above all, the people who care about cleaning it up. Just...resign.

Well, them's my suggestions--but I'm sure Pat "Dick"'ll take (well, need, anyway) all the help he can get!

Cav Gets Clipped; Sagan Lifts Weights; And Euskaltel Is !@#$ed

Fine, Just Pimp the Riders Whydontcha!: yep, thanks again UCI you complete points-obsessed team-destroying sport-scr!@ing bean-counting suckwads--your dumb!@# points system has so hosed our darling Euskaltel-Euskadi that the team is down to selling their damn team bus to raise enough cash to pay off their riders through year's end! Great, just great you odious clowns. I'm happy to chip in to buy the Partridge Family Bus and all, if anyone else is game to pony up--if only 'cause it'd be bitchin' careering around the Basque country with it waving to the fans before they realize it there's just some dippy American driving it--but what the hell else are they supposed to sell next, their skivvies? I can't believe the scumlord teams you guys are still allowing to even *exist* in this sport, and *Euskaltel*'s going down? Y'know, home of Samu "Holy Crap He Was the Olympic Gold Medalist! And the Tour de France King of the Mountains! And..." Sanchez, unique squad of phenomenal Basque climbers--uh, okay, like two Basque climbers left now you've already decimated it, lucky beneficiaries of the most impassioned fans on the planet--well, they're all gonna need to scramble for a living now, so if yer lookin' for a deal on some souvenir sweaty 2012 team kit, I'm sure they'll take yer calls!

Cav Gets His Road Rage On: sure, he looks like a sweet elderly gent, but make no mistake: Mark Cavendish swears this guy's an evil reckless rider-hatin' speed-demon who darn near turned him to roadkill, and threatened to call the cops on 'im to boot. Dang, didn't the Brits just bag a whole buncha road glory this year--like, uh, the Tour de France--what gives with their drivers trying to take out half their own talent in the off-season?

Sagan Is Coming For You, Cavendish!: meantime, while Cav wastes his time with stuff like, well, "riding his bike", new Liquigas successor Cannondale isn't messing around--yessir, they've already got sprints-and-Classics challenger Peter Sagan lifting team captains for pre-season strength training. Y'know, I'm no Michele Ferrari--get yer hands outta my pockets, I said I didn't have any drugs!--but you might want to borrow say a Hushovd or a Boonen for that sort of thing instead. I mean, isn't Ivan Basso a bit lightweight to really Thighmaster Sagan up?

Greg LeMond for Prez! Cyclist T&A Update! Save the Giro Donne!

Greeegggggg!: just as Johan Bruyneel feared, that big pack o' "douches" who don't want cycling to be an open encouraged cesspool of stinkin' dopers met to talk sport, and, as Jonathan Vaughters made nice with Cofidis' Eric Boyer after Boyer accused Vaughters of not giving a crap as head honcho when the greed-enabler teams immediately snapped up post-ban drug-weasels as soon as Op Puerto was over, a new white knight has emerged: yes, none less than 3-time Tour de France winner Greg LeMond, routinely derided in Lanceville as a bitter, angry nobody (I mean, for !@#$'s sake, people), is gonna challenge impotent rump-kisser Pat "Dick" McQuaid for UCI supremacy. Frankly, clean as his rep is and sincere his desire to fix the sport he loves, LeMond could've beaten Hinault with a two-foot syringe stickin' right outta his shorts and I'd *still* love to see 'im on the job just to piss Lance off. Greg for President--woo-hoo!

A Philosophical Q: Look, I truly think doping's really, really bad. And given how pissed everyone is they couldn't afford to dope half so well as Armstrong force-fed his crew, I mean, how horrible everyone feels about the garbage-pail days and how eager they are to change things now for the young ones, I really think the teams all hoppin' on this Movement for Credible Cycling thing is great. But Rabobank, Lampre, Astana--all these disgusting clowns are now *begging* to join the kids they used to pick on at the nerds' table. Am I *really* the only one at all suspecting that clean new era, yap, yap, yap, this is just a bunch of kum-ba-yah s'mores-makin' campfire-singin' bull!@#$ and five years from now we're all going to be reading some "shocking" new expose' of their cutting-edge test-evading blood-doping practices? Okay you sweet little innocents, I guess it's just me then--at least, I hope so!

Save the Giro Donne, !@#dammit! Okay, the women already get paid squat, their teams dissolve every fifteen minutes, the glorious Giro Donne is under threat--and don't even get me *started* on why there's no women's Vuelta or Tour--and now, hot on the heels of Vino & Co partying with the newly-elected "Miss Ciclismo," a buncha cyclist babes are 'helping' the sport by posing for calendars straddling giant mountain-bike tires with electrical tape on their racks? Oh sure, it's usually Cipo or Pippo takin' it off for the cameras, and Petacchi can pose in a silk man-nightie with a hot model velcroed onto 'im and still retain his peloton cred--but really, can't we just give these women a *raise* and some *races* to ride in? Since the answer, sadly, appears to be "no," I hope you'll all join me in my new campaign, "Randomly Send Gobs o' Money to Marianne Vos, Mara Abbott and Giorgia Bronzini," c/o this post. *Please*, please save this phenomenal race--just *look* at what we'll all be missing!