It's Yer Unwritten Rules o' the Peloton, Revisited!

All right, as the recent smackdown between Kittel & Grivko so amply demonstrated, it's !@#damn etiquette chaos in the peloton right now, so before we all devolve into thievery, cannibalism, and chamois-snapping, I say it's about freakin' time to lay down some serious rules. Disagree, especially if yer a pro who's not just talking out of his/her !@# like I am? Have at, Miss Manners!

1. The Golden Rule: Do Not Be a Punk-Ass. If yer own mom'd spit on you and disown you for shaming the family, back off whatever weasel scumbag move yer about to pull. This goes for you too, Valverde!

2. Golden Rule, Part Deux: Do Not Be a Wuss. This, as dear reader(s) have pointed out, is bike racing. If Rui Costa'd rip yer stem off and start beating the crap out of you with it for some simpering passive-aggression, back off!

3. The Leader's Jersey, Part Un: Respect the Jersey. The leader sets the rules, dictates the pace at non-critical junctures, calls nature breaks, and doles out mercy or hellfire. But only within limits, because...

4. The Leader's Jersey, Part Deux: this goes both ways (hear me, Marcel)? Don't call a nature break halfway up Alpe d'Huez just because yer legs are crap and you know some !@#$wit with a motor--uh, Valver--uh, somebody stronger is gonna destroy your GC hopes like Godzilla on Tokyo, don't take undue advantage of someone else's misfortune, and don't, in general, be a !@#$. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, get it?

5. Sucker-Punching (A Fan): sure, you might not like that publicity-slutting asshat running next to you screaming their heads off in a neon banana-hammock, combination baseball hat/Texas longhorns, or a (wholly unjustified) syringe costume and accusatory sign, but if s/he ain't interfering with your line, endangering your wheel with a flag, or imminently tossing a large dog or small child in yer path, save the energy, honey, and let it go. On the other hand, if someone throws urine at you--and you're sure it's not just an ill-aimed, if well-intentioned, attempt to toss you a beer--I say, justice dealt!

6. Sucker-Punching (A Fellow Rider): Don't use it to screw someone over in a sprint. If some reckless selfish dipwad is jacking *your* line in the last 100 meters, though, fair game. And if you're Bernard !@#$ing Hinault, you can punch anyone at any time for any reason. Why, *you* want to tell him he can't?

7. Attacking (Flat Due to Natural Road Debris): look, happens to everyone. If you're just some schmo, no-one's attacking you anyway. If you're ten seconds apart on GC, particularly if it happens on a crucial climb, keep your pace, but no need to be a wanker about it. Caveat: no brownnosing peloton-powerhouse former teammates by staying with 'em for half an hour while the team you're supposed to be riding for gets hosed. And no running up the hill like a jack!@#!

8. Attacking (Flat Due to Pile of Tacks Deliberately Strewn by Some Malevolent Nutwhack): Not only should you not attack if you're the only sod lucky enough to get through it unscathed--which only rewards the scumbag, imho--but this possibly one of those instance where the Sucker-Punch (Fan) protocol applies. You endanger the riders, you takes your chances!

9. Bottles (Giving): Got an extra bottle riding next to someone who's obviously in croaking distress with no team car in sight? Nice to pass it along. Just don't accidentally hand over one with whatever sketchy drug-positive internet "nutritional supplement" you're scamming!

10. Bottles (Throwing): Over the head and/or to the side. Not skittering under somebody's wheel to take 'em down! This goes doubly for musettes: toss it into somebody's wheel and you've probably cost 'em the stage, the podium, or, even worse, some major collarbone surgery when they jackknife into the tarmac. And they'll remember you, pal!

11. Nature Breaks: Don't attack on a real one. It's weak, and the entire peloton will justifiably hate you. About three more water bottles in, you'll likely find that out for yourself! For calls necessarily heeded while on the fly, with perhaps the balancing assistance of a discreet teammate, for god's sake stay to the back and off to the side, so you don't let it rip on the poor bastard behind you!

12. Extreme Weather Protocol: Know you game-changingly suck in the wind/cold/snow/rain/dessicating heat, and your GC rivals don't? Well, it's really nice that UCI's decided no-one should actually have major limbs drop off from frostbite, but don't take advantage of your lack of hardman skills and whine at the organizers til they cancel the stage just so you can gain a leg up. Why? Because you're a *cyclist*, dammit, and Marianne Vos eats blizzards for breakfast and spits 'em back out as snow-cones for the kiddos while you're still cowering in your hotel room in your down bathrobe, you wuss!

13. And Finally, Yer Miscellaneous Post-Race Commandment: If you say you're gonna retire, *retire* fer chrissakes! This applies without exception to Brad Wiggins, but not to, say, Purito, whose glaring absence from the peloton has already left an atom-crushing black whole from which no light or matter can escape. And this includes any stupid !@#$ like reality-show long-jumping/bull-fighting/extreme curling or whatever the !@#$% you're doing lately, Wiggo!

Pre-Tour Head Games! Hour Record Controversies! Doping Wisdom! #cycling

The Intimidation Begins: yep, Tinkoff-Saxo's struck the first big psychological blow of Tour de France 2015: they've unleashed their special Tour team kit, a blue-and-yellow tie-dyeish camo design that virtually declares war on Alberto Contador's pathetic rivals. Not to be outdone, defending champ Vincenzo Nibali's Astana squad has reportedly released its own team kit design, a simple white jersey with "!@#$ YOU TINKOV!" emblazoned across the front in giant red letters. As for Movistar, Alejandro Valverde has allegedly secretly paid millions of euros to an elite military contractor to develop a cloak of invisibility to allow him to bushwhack titular team leader Nairo Quintana without warning. When asked for his comments, Team Sky boss Dave Brailsford dismissed the entire brouhaha, opining, "Nothing can beat our sexy see-thru mesh skinsuits. Except maybe those guys in the neon mankini banana-hammocks who always run alongside the riders on Alpe d'Huez...Hey, Arvesen, get our kit manufacturer on the line!"

Hour of Power: in track news, Sir Brad Wiggins' blazin' immolation of the fabled Hour Record is now totally overwhelmed by two far more important issues: (1) fer God's sake, you *don't* wear long black socks with navy kit; and (2) banned-for-a-decade doping-conspiracy team leader Johan Bruyneel and former UCI prez Pat "Dick" McQuaid were observed at the event having a disturbingly friendly laugh together. !@#$, like no-one thought that they were doing that for the better part of Lance Armstrong's reign anyway? Oh, right, and in inconsequential news, Brad's bike was illegal so his entire hour record was meaningless and Alex Dowsett's gonna come back and beat the crap outta Wiggo's new record anyway. Yeah, but with all this drama, who's gonna be left to watch the attempt itself?

UCI Can't Believe This Is Happening Again: meanwhile, I see two Pro Continental riders have tested "non-negative" for human growth hormone and EPO respectively, which, in addition to the recent scourge of amateur doping in the sport, the uselessness of the biological passport, *and* the fact that hardly any WorldTour riders have tested poz since, well, Contador (sorry, fans!), clearly proves an inverse relationship between doping and success, in that only riders who already suck by comparison to their WorldTour compatriots are dopers, and all of the very top riders in the sport are clean. Cause and effect, honey--whew, I feel so much better about those WorldTour squads now!

Lookin' Good for Tejay!: finally, as the Tour de France GC contenders (minus Alberto and Nairo, of course) face off in the Dauphine, the more interesting question seems to be how much the team time trial is gonna hurt 'em in the quest for the final maillot jaune, because it was a loooong 34 seconds over 24.5k between Dauphine time trial champs BMC and, unfortunately, Chris Froome's Team Sky. Well, everyone gets one bad day--I don't doubt that here or in the Tour, Froomey'll be able to inflict some serious damage on at least a few of his rivals in the mountains!

Contador vs. Froome vs....Uh, That Other Guy! Sagan vs. Cavendish! Sir Brad's Sartorial Splendor! Jeeeeeeens!

Hell-ooooooooo! Defending Champ Over Here!: yes, the media hype over the Alberto Contador-Chris Froome faceoff at the Tour de France, and diplomatically complimentary smack-talk, has already begun, as the two boys get a trial crack at each other at the Ruta del Sol this week and poor Vincenzo Nibali has to go on the offensive to remind everyone he's actually the defending !@#$ing Tour winner and, like anyone cares, his form is already pretty good and he's tranquillo about his chances in July. Well, hell, Nibs, it's not like you're even gonna be a marked man apparently, you might as well just take the maillot jaune while those two are distracted getting fawned over! I swear, the man can't get *no* respect...

Pick It Up, Peter!: geez, Sagan, not only did Oleg Tinkov pay out the nose for the Holy Grail of Your Royal Wheelieness this season, but with Alberto Contador threatening to retire in 2016 so Oleg can't make him do the Giro-Tour-Vuelta deathmarch--uh, so he can retire at the top of his game--you're all Tinkov's got now, honey, so if you don't start to step up from this 7th place bull!@#$ and win him (forget "win yourself") a good brace of Monuments this season, you're gonna find you'll be suddenly getting paid 3.4 million euro a year just to follow Oleg around disposing of his dirty tissues and wiping his rear end. Meantime, I don't wanna disturb you or Marcel Kittel as he relaxes over at the hair salon with a hot cup of tea and a Cosmo, but Mark Cavendish has been, despite some fine early-season competition, on a hell of a tear, with the added bonus that, should you actually be about to beat him in a sprint on the merits, he can and will rip your derailleur off with teeth within a wheel's-width of the line. I take back every doubt I had about you Cav--at least until Marcel's all done with his blow-out!

Wiggo's Got a Brand New Bag: meanwhile, big style points to baby team boss Sir Bradley Wiggins, who's debuted a stylin' new jersey for his nascent squad that's far superior to the boring (and confusing) black of most'a' the ProTour this year. Special feature: press the target logo on the chest, and it chirps, "*Sure*, I'll help Froomey win the Tour!" Oh, just keep rubbin' salt in old wounds there, Brad...

Jeeeeeeeeeeeeeens!: finally, giant kudos to our fine local bike shop for hosting an entirely bitchin' Q&A with the entirely bitchin' Jens Voigt yesterday. My dear Contador and Cancellara swooners, I get it--never have I seen so many grownups, myself included, share so much in common with a shrieking stadium full of sugar-stoked tween idol fans. Yep, I'm a Belieber--thank you Jens and Cycle Loft!

Belkin Goes for the Gold (Well, Your Gold); and, Last Tour de France Contender to Show His Form!

Three (Thousand, Whatever's) a Crowd: yep, in the shocking wake of Belkin's decision to withdraw sponsorship and immediately screw whatever riders weren't already close to inking a lucrative alternative deal with another squad, they've gone desperate: they've set up a PayPal account to crowdfund the team for a minimum of 10 euros a pop. Donors will reportedly get a signed poster of some other random individual pocket-change savior they've never even heard of. Sweet! Y'know, part of me quite sympathizes--it's got a ton of great talent, and as when any major team kicks the bucket, we're gonna see a glut of worthwhile riders driving down contract prices and back to their "you want fries with that?" real-life jobs. But, !@#$, we couldn't even get anyone to crowdfund Euskatel, and like this squad deserves it more? Get in line, and UCI, try thinking up a less fickle and idiotic way to fund teams for !@#$!ssakes!

Sud-den Death: and, with the short-but-telling Route del Sud getting underway, Alejandro Valverde becomes the last TdF podium contender to either terrify, reassure or (most likely) completely bewilder his more prominent competitors Froomey Contador and Nibali ahead of the start line in July. If his three day performance tracks his three weeks', I predict he'll have an uneventful first day, a catastrophic day-two meltdown, and a desperate grab-for-the-podium day three. Efficient!

Wiggin' Out: finally, I'd just like congratulate Team Sky on coming up with a foolproof face-saver for Brad Wiggins not to support--or hell, let's be real here, totally backstab--Chris Froome at the Tour de France by his underwhelming ride at the Tour de Suisse. Still, the rest of your boys are going like hybrid cyborg human-machine freaks, so something tells me Chris'll be okay! Speaking of whom, I see Alberto Contador's got a dashing new mesh skinsuit to play in. Don't let what happened to him happen to you, Alberto--remember, *sunscreen*!

It's Our 2014 Giro d'Italia Racejunkie Win Free Stuff Contest Part Tre Winner! and, Insults! #giro

Well, it's been an exciting Giro--and since no one got the podium quite right, I tossed all the entries into the Holy Crap Ted King Gave Me This Cannondale Cap o' Bitchinness, and we've got our 2014 Racejunkie Giro d'Italia Contest Week Tre Winner, Sonnyboy! Sonnyboy, check yer email to claim yer prizes--congrats and thanks to all for playing, I hope you try again next year!

It's Our Insult Rider Moratorium Update!: and, I think I forgot to mention our prior contest winners' Two Week Rider Insult Moratorium pics, so lucky for you Mauro Santambrogio and, in a twist, a Rider Insult Have-At-It for bitter preying mantis Brad Wiggins, who's been publicly waffling about whether or not he's gonna ride the Tour de France of course in faithful service of defending champ/teammate Chris Froome, which, luckily, has been all but settled by Wiggo's 2012-lieutenant/beeyotch Chris' cheerful new autobio accusing winner Brad of being an unbearable erratic male-menopausal suck-climber prima-donna snot. Don't worry Brad, if you decide to eat your ego and go help Chris anyway, *and* he manages to fend off a Tinkov-whipped Contador and weight-of-a-nation Nibali, I'm sure he'll be just as good a sport as you were and pay you yer teammates cut--like you, only after Brailsford threatens to break his spindly kneecaps, but hey, what's a year between friends?

Oh, and Here's the Bangin' Giro d'Italia Theme Song Again--so Pedala!:

It's Psycho(logical) Warfare in the Peloton! And, The Alps Are *On*, Baby! #giro

The Giro GC Talks Smack!: Yep, the general classification contenders are gettin' twitchy, which means they're getting nasty: oh, wee Nairo Quintana *seems* innocent enough, but even as he's complimenting countryman Rigoberto Uran, Nairo's pointing out both that he's a "better climber" than Uran *and* that Cadel seems to be weakening, Cadel's delicately professing doubts as to whether Rigo can even hold it together in the third week, Uran's making it clear he's not feeling any threat whatsoever, and Pozzovivo seems just disdainful of everybody. Well, the next few days are gonna tell us a lot, boys--just try to stay upright, so we can *really* judge who's just talking crap!

Ice Ice Baby: meantime, the Giro's already takin' a big step for 2015: in a move destined to bring even !@#$ier weather than what decimated the peloton in dear Ireland in the first few days of the Giro, the race is reportedly starting in the Netherlands in 2016. As for the more immediate problem of tomorrow's crucial stage up the snow-covered Passo Stelvio and the Gavia: the road's clear enough, we're going for it! Here, the passes this morning:

It's Yer Rider Insult Roundup!: finally, if you think Team Sky is already an imploding, stinking cesspool of prima-donna face-clawing simp-slapping infighting, you're right, they're a pack o' snarly sixth-grade alpha-gir--uh, you are just so *wrong*, as Chris Froome's tender Chris-rules-Brad-drools screw-you autobiographical paean to despised team leader Wiggo virtually guarantees that either (1) Wiggo isn't gonna ride the Tour de France at all this year or (2) Sky's gonna have to encase Froomey in a protective shark cage and repeatedly jab Wiggins with a cattle prod to get Brad to do his damn job without personally killing his captain. Keep up the good work, Froomey--maybe, with a little forethought, you can make your *other* backup riders wanna slash your tires and accidentally loosen all the screws on your time trial bike just in time for July, too!

Oh Yeah, It's Week Tre of Our Giro d'Italia Contest: so enter to win here!

It's Your Giro d'Italia Rest Day Due (and ATOC) Roundup! and, Enter to Win! #giro

Yep, the Giro boys got a day to chill, spin, and nurse their aching bloody carcasses, so let's catch up before we hit the road again!

1. Quit asking Cadel Evans if he feels bad about missing the Tour. What's the !@#$in' maglia rosa anyway, chopped liver?

2. Agony Update: Angel Vicioso, the worst-hit from the tarmac with a busted femur, is already standing. Meantime, Purito's got a coupla pins in his thumb. Forza ragazzi--ci vediamo alla bellissima Vuelta!

3. Tweet o' the Week: "Bling" Matthews apologizing "Sorry about showing my ass to the world today #pinkjersey to #pinkass." Now *that's* a rider with an excuse for slurping some Tramadol!

4. Ivan Basso. Lookin' better'n you thought he would, right?

5. FDJ--I don't think you can afford Nacer Bouhanni any more!

6. Really, he looked promising--but who the hell saw Diego Ulissi coming? Well, now everyone will!

7. Under new rules, anyone running alongside the racers in those hideous Borat banana-slings can now have it nut-crackingly snapped by the nearest aesthetically-offended GC contender. Thanks, UCI!

8. Am I the only one who expected Elia Viviani to bag a stage or two by now? *One* lil puppy's in the Cannondale doghouse, I bet!

9. Quit *whinin'*, Scarponi!

10. Uran did well not to cut off *all* his hair. As for Quintana, bruised or not, if he had a good day today, I wouldn't count him out. C'mon, at least don't leave this *whole* race a foregone conclusion!

11. No freakin' way is Wiggo gonna voluntarily domestique for Froomey at the Tour de France. At least not without trying to bushwhack 'im outta contention first!

12. If *I* were Floyd Landis, listening to Christian Vande Velde get a sweet-payin' commentator gig at the ATOC after watching Landis twist in the wind for years knowing the whole time the guy was telling the truth while enjoying a full career with a no-punishment post-retirement ban, I'd probably be bull!@#$. Pays to go to charm school, I guess!

13. Enter our Giro contest here, and win stuff! Why? Because if you love the Giro, you deserve it!

Well, onto a coupla days of relative relaxation--then back to the mountains again, woo-hoo!

It's Your GC-Wreckin' Giro Carnage Roundup! That's "Sir" Taylor to You, Pal! And, You Broke Pozzato's Heart, Lampre You Bums! #giro

Oh, No, Purito!: well, the pile o' wounded road warriors is in from Thursday's disastrous Giro stage, and aside from basically everybody in the entire not in the first 8 riders at the base of the final climb ending up on the floor with at least a bucket of scrapes and bruises, we love dear GC hope Purito Rodriguez was knocked completely out with coupla busted ribs to match the ones he was just healing up from earlier in the season and a broken bone in his hand, Michele Scarponi was held up (and seemed quite on the fence today as to whether he should be in a snit at Cadel for not sitting up for everyone), and Purito lieutenant Angel Vicioso, who was quite scarily near-immobile on the ground for a while, seems to have gotten by far the worst of it, with a multiply-broken femur and contradictory reports in the international press as to whether, at age 37, he's just gonna flat-out retire rather'n struggle to heal and get back to top level. What a !@#$ty way to end a fine career--Katusha, surely this talented boy's gotten "DS" written all over him for the future?!

Watch Out Wiggo: yeah Bradley, you got the title, but Taylor Phinney's got the class-- check out his most elegant bow across the line after his gorgeous downhill attack at the Amgen EPO TOC this week! And is anyone *really* buying Sky's delusional crap about how Brad's gonna be a happy little domestique for Froomey at the Tour, despite their implied suggestion that he might not make the team if he ain't? Yeah, me neither!

Pippo in Exile: look, half-clothed peloton selfie-king Pippo Pozzato's been most gracious about riding that nice race in Japan, but luckily, I don't have to be: you *suck*, Lampre! Wah, wah, "results," wah--Pippo was still the highest-placed Italian at the Classics this year (ok, like 50th at Paris-Roubaix, but still!), and, in a sport that's hardly shied away from style over substance, you gotta admit that he's more fun for the tifosi & everybody else than some grim lumbering drudge, plus maybe even prettier than, like, Kittel or Basso, so why the hell didn't you let him ride his darling Giro d'Italia--what, you expect that Simoni-backstabber Cunego to bring it home? On the other hand, with the field down to about 5 guys and a bunch of lucky roleurs, maybe he will...Anyhow, Free Pippo For Giro 2015!

Enter to Win! finally, it's our Giro contest again, so because Samuel Sanchez is bitchin' and he's riding it, enter here and earn eternal glory, and free stuff!

Mystery Pills! Gilbert Gets His Groove Back! Brotherly Love at Sky! Yer Random Peloton Roundup

Uh, They're Tic-Tacs! Yeah, That's the Ticket: well, there's clearly more than one way to crash out of a race, or a career: some tarmac-diving dimwit at Paris-Roubaix apparently ripped his jersey enough that a vial o' pills fell out and skidded across the roadside, only to be studiously ignored by the riders and soigneurs carefully picking up all the crash detritus from the course. Holy crap, that's even a better roadside souvenir than a spit-swilled discarded superstar bidon--maybe if you twit another pic of it, the rightful owner'll come and autograph it for you! That, or maybe he figures his thumbprint's enough of a gift for the narcs...

Speaking of Pijls: welcome back from your year-long funk, Philippe Gilbert!

We'll Always Have Paris (Roubaix): so, thinkin' about the tiresome hype over Brad Wiggins' performance at Paris-Roubaix this weekend, here's my q: with a top 10 in one of the hardest races on the planet in his pocket, and his distinct hostility towards eclipsing sun Chris Froome at last year's Tour de France, *how* happy exactly is Wiggo gonna be being Chris Froome's water-bottle wind-breaker beeyotch at the Tour *this* year? Yeah, didn't think so--but Brad, don't you even *think* about riding the beautiful Giro like a half-hearted consolation prize again, so just suck it up and fake nice in France, !@#dammit!

I Love Rocky Road(s): finally, the thorough Alberto Contador ain't missing a trick, skipping the risk of injury at the upcoming Ardennes Classics to recon the actual Tour de France cobbles instead, following Alejandro Valverde's earlier racing test-drive and leaving Vincenzo Nibali scrambling for the sage assistance of former cobbled bad-!@# Peter Van Petegem. One sour note: expected to go on vacation after his trip, Contador apparently hit his miniscule race weight a little too soon, and got lodged chest-deep between the stones of the Forest of Arenberg instead. Well, they'll pry 'im out eventually--they got until July 'til Froomey comes by and rides over his head, anyway!

Get the Hell Outta There, Alberto! Wiggo Plays Nice! Lance Plays Dirty! and, It's the Strade Bianche, Baby!

Ole' Ole', Ole' Oleg!: Okay, Alberto, you greedy little prima donna, you've got wingnut team boss Oleg Tinkov's cool approval for now: he ain't makin' any calls about your performance in the Tour de France, he *is* optimistic for yer chances at Tirreno-Adriatico. Take what you can get at this point, honey! Unfortunately, despite the outraged denials of a certain rider's agent, and Luca Paolini's descriptive emoji twit-dismissal of recent rumor-mongering, Tinkov seems a lot hotter on 4 million euro prospect Peter Sagan, which means if he *is* gonna pony up to break all kindsa contractual hoo-ha, you can effectively call your team supremacy--hell, relevance--at Tinkoff goodbye. If you can't pound Froomey at the Tour Alberto, you better get out while the getting's good--and perhaps be ready to get out after Tirreno!

Wiggo Plays Nice: well, nice-ish, anyway, as admits to some post-Tour discombobulation and vows to "help" Chris Froome all he can this year. Uh, I don't know if you remember, Froomey, but if Brad is going by *your* definition of "help" during *his* winning year, I think you're pretty well !@#$ed. Unless attacking your own team leader, openly deriding him in the press, and generally acting like a total impatient backstabbing wanker are "helpful"--well, don't say you weren't warned!

Ugh, Lance, *Again*: yep, even besides the usual charges of disgusting cheating 'n' extreme toolishness which have surrounded our hero of late, there's even more scandal a-risin' with the latest wave of Lance Armstrong books, with good-guy Wheelmen author/intrepid journalist Reed Albergotti reportedly saying that Lance or his minions contacted his bosses at the Wall Street Journal to try to get his !@# fired, apparently over some bothersome "truth" that got in the way of Lance's image and, even worse, his own dazzling self-worship. !@#$, Armstrong, where's your class--you coulda just gone to the WSJ offices and personally cornered 'im outside the toilet like you did with ol' Tyler Hamilton!

It's the Strade Bianche, Woo-hoo!: and finally, there's lots of actual racing going on this weekend, with the beautiful Strade Bianche and the beginning of unsung super-domestique-but-leader-in-his-own-right Richie Porte's defense of Paris Nice. What to see on the white roads in Italy: not freakin' much, thanks to the damn (yet hallowed) dust, but it'll be a bangin' race, with we love BMC's (omigod! BMC???) Samuel Sanchez, Cadel, Sagan, Wiggo, Cav, Valverde, Cancellara, and defending champ Moreno Moser all on hand. Me, I'm actually just stoked to Samu' back in action again, especially since I'm traumatized enough as it is by wishful thinking every time I see Wiggle-Honda's Euskaltelian orange-and-black team kit. Good luck gents--and Peter, you can start proving yourself and your salary demands to Tinkov now!

It's Cycling's Greatest Romances (Pretty Darn Recent Edition)!

Oh, sure, Valentine's Day is long over, but you know what isn't? That's right, haters--the deep and abiding love within members of the peloton, ties drawn tight by long, lonely hours of training, the brother-or-sisterhood of shared exhaustion after a day's hard pursuit of a common goal, the exhausting, clandestine midnight road-trips to a magical, faraway clin--y'know, love of pure sport, I say! Anyway, for the secret chick-flick watcher that dwells deep within each one of you--and you know, however shamefully, o studly bike jockey, it's in there--I bring you some of Cycling's Greatest Loves:

1. Alberto Contador and Johan Bruyneel: He was the puppy-eyed Next Lance, a peerless climber with an impressive time-trial and the apparently seamless ability to turn them both into Grand Tour gold. The other he was the heartbroken hit-maker searching for his next little gleaming comet. And oh, was it beautiful for the like three months it lasted!

2. Alberto Contador and Lance Armstrong: What happens when the star-struck Next Lance meets the fading resentful Current Lance? In the immortal words of Bette Davis, "fasten your seatbelts, it's going to be a bumpy night!" Yep, that was one delightfully ugly Tour de France all right...

3. Alberto Contador and Oleg Tinkov: Dang, this kid gets around! So y'know when you've saved up for a really nice romantic dinner with your sweetie and one member of the couple two tables over is having an epic screaming public meltdown while the other one just sort of tries to calm things down by melting cringing into the tablecloth? Yeah, that. But they're getting along famously now--'til that damn Oleg started throwing new crush Sagan in Alberto's face the last couple of weeks, anyway!

4. Mark Cavendish and Roberto Ferrari: oh, sure, he's dallied with Andre and and Bernie and Marcel and Peter--but nothing's quite set off the sparks like the instant attraction between Mark Cavendish and Roberto Ferrari at the 2012 Giro. Yeah, Ferrari's bike was attracted right across the entire road into poor Cav's, that is! "

5. Rui Costa and Carlos Barredo: yes, tots, it's been relentlessly drilled into you since nursery school--be nice, and share. And what's nicer than sharing an expensive pro-level wheelset with a needy competitor's brain case? Carlos Barredo (whanger) and reigning World Champion Rui Costa (whangee), this one's for you!

6. And, Last But Not Least, Chris Froome and Brad Wiggins: Tracy and Hepburn, Bogie and Bacall, Kardashian and West--history is replete with examples of enduring love between formidable (or embarrassingly dimwitted) equals. Which is what protected Tour de France rider/eventual winner Brad Wiggins thought, anyway, 'til wingman Chris Froome attacked his own darling leader during the race whined about his own obvious superiority to the press and openly declared he'd'a won if he hadn't had to shepherd Brad around like a smart dog with a dumb sheep. Classy!

Well, there's certainly buckets more, but them's mine for now, and the rest of you, keep the lovers' quarrels under wraps next time--on the other hand, maybe don't!

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

Yes, it's been another shameful, glorious year of wallowing in our filthy cesspools o' sin, and now it's time for our annual promises, however insincere, to clean up our dirty, disgusting acts, so without further ado--and especially because these clowns are never gonna do it on their own--I bring you Yer New Year's Resolutions for the Peloton!

Tom Boonen: Remember my 2012 Classics season? Yeah, me too. Eat my dust, Fabian!

Fabian Cancellara: Two words, Boonen: You. !@#$in'. Wish!

Peter Sagan: I won't ever, *ever* grab anyone without their consent again. Except maybe I'll grab Mark Cavendish in a headlock and noogie 'im.

Chris Froome: I'll quit whining about all those doping insinuations that piss me off so much. My positi--uh, my palmares will speak for itself!

Brad Wiggins: I'll give up faking I'll ever win--or want to win--a Grand Tour again. But boy, wasn't it fun ticking off Froomey with all that press frenzy!

Vincenzo Nibali: I will win the Tour de France. Even though I know the Giro's really better.

Oleg Tinkov: I will be polite, even friendly, to Alberto Contador. Because come 2015, that lazy overpaid crybaby princess is Alonso's problem!

Alberto Contador: I will be polite, even friendly, to Oleg Tinkov. Because come 2015, I'm Alonso's problem!

Alejandro Valverde: Next freakin' mechanical I get, my domestiques can relax. I'm gonna whack the first poor sonofa!@#$% I see off his bike and take it!

Andy Schleck: Okay, I *won't* learn to ride without my big brother Frank. But I promise not to actually clutch his neck screaming with my eyes screwed shut on all the descents at least!

Andre Greipel: I'll demand a better nickname. I mean, who the hell's gonna root for "the Gorilla"?

Jens Voigt: I'll attack. Of course, I always attack. In fact, I'll attack right now. And later today. And tomorrow. And...

Samuel Sanchez: I'll bag a ProTour contract. Or else poor little racejunkie will cry.

Mauro Santambrogio: I'll never use EPO again. I'll join the big-boy dopers, and start using AICAR.

Filippo Pozzato: I'll stop posting gorgeous bronzed photos of myself on Twitter and start winning races. Ooooooooo, look....I can see my reflection on the back of Cunego's helmet!

Jonathan Vaughters: I'll quit yappin' on about anti-doping and just let my work speak for itself, like David Millar. Oh, wait...

Tour of California: We'll reschedule it. Because we're really, *really* sorry for screwing over the dear Giro.

Tifosi: we'll give *all* the riders beer on a hot climb. Hell, Contador fans, Froomey weighs like six ounces, do you *know* how quick he'll get loaded and stagger himself outta contention at the Tour?

Finally, Johan Bruyneel: I'm gonna write a tell-all, beeyotches! Hey kids, is that fear I smell, or just the foul miasma of your sweaty testosterone nut-patch?

All right you peninents--now shake off that hangover, get on yer team kit, and get to work being all moral for 2014!

It's the 2013 Racejunkie Awards!

The Velo D'Or? Eh. The Paris-Roubaix cobblestone? Yawn. That big giant trophy you get for winning the Tour de France? Shrug. Yes, now it's time for the big awards show of the cycling season, the incredibly prestigious, highly anticipated (and universally ignored) 2013 Racejunkie Awards! Winners: if you claim it, enjoy a bitchin' custom racejunkie cap, as well as the eternal glory you've earned. Losers: well, you're probably better off not winning here anyway. Therefore, without further ado:

Cyclist o' 2013: Let's cut right to the chase: look, Nibali's bangin'. Froome's fab (okay, well Fabian's fab, but anyway). And Cav of course is awesome. But on road, mountain, cross, and trike, Marianne Vos is simply the best rider in the peloton today. Or yesterday. Or tomorrow. Or ever. Bow, bow before the Vos!

Kick In the Nuts/Punch In the Face/Wedgie of All Time Award: dear we love Euskaltel-Euskadi, really gone, brilliant wee climbers, unique Basque identity, smashing team kit, and fanatic Orange Army, and all. Waaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

Good Deeds Never Go Unpunished Award: so impassioned (if ill-timed) Lance defender Chris Horner wins the Vuelta at age Moses, is immediately surrounded by doping suspicions, and what does he do? Yep, proudly releases his blood values. And what happens then? Nope, it sure wasn't pretty! Shoulda just hidden in your hotel room with a pile o' McNuggets 'til it all blew over, I guess...

Dope(r) of the Year: yep, Giro poz Mauro Santambrogio had this one in the bag, at least til Mick Rogers got taken out by a tainted Chinese cow not a week ago. Dammit, can't we at least keep it to riders I don't *like* for heck's sake?

Fan Antics o' 2013 Prize: yeah, there was that panda guy, and the usual contingent of screaming half-nekkid mankini banana-hammocks getting in the riders' way at the Tour, but this year, it was the rowdy beer-swillin'--and sharin'!--fans at the Dutch corner on the Alpe d'Huez. Here, Adam Hansen grabs a cold one:

TMI Award: Sure, dopers have pulled a lot of disgusting stunts in order to gain an edge. But what we *really* didn't need to hear was Michael "the Chicken" Rasmussen's claim that a then-Rabobank bus driver nestled a buncha EPO right up against his nuttal region to evade the narcs. Needless to say, successor squad Belkin quickly put the kibosh on to any further investigation into the matter. Thankfully!

Comeback o' the Year (Not) Award: Well, Wiggins was the 2012 Tour champ, so he didn't really have anything to come back from, which is good, because he didn't. But Andy Schleck? Oh, he was *so* taking the Tour! Or a stage. Or a one-day race. Or at least finishing one. Or maybe just getting to the start line sometime...

Over/Under, Over/Under Prize: oh, Orica-Greenedge. At the Tour de France, the team bus goes *under* the finish-line banner, not *over* it. D'oh!

Total Organizer !@#$up of 2013 Corollary Award: they're going to the original finish line. No, it's 2k back. No, it's the original finish again. The completely befoozled race organizers at the Tour. Make up your freakin' minds and convey it clearly to the teams already, so these boys even know if or when they're supposed to sprint!

Portrait of Dorian Grey Award: his dashing hipster facade belied the haggard, tortured trainwreck within. Brad Wiggins, this one's for you!

Icicle, Icicle, Icicle Race Award: Okay, we're used to the occasional freezefest in the Giro, even the Tour. But half the GC dropping out of the beautiful Vuelta coated in ice like grisly popsicles? I'm just glad any o' these guys survived!

PR Disaster of 2013: jeez, Lance, I didn't think it was *possible* for you to be more of an unctuous, self-serving tool than you already were. But then, you blabbed on Oprah. My bad!

I Am Woman, Hear Me Roar: Women's cycling is *done* taking any !@#$, honey, and now, they demand the Tour de France, and every other race--from sponsorship to paychecks to organization to sheer kilometers--they deserve. Women's Cycling Association, this one's for you!

My Boss is a Bigger Nutwhack Than Your Boss Award: sure, Vino's crazy, which is why, among many other reasons, we still love him. But Oleg Tinkov, man--that's a whole 'nother level of wingnut. Am I the only one really psyched for 2014?

Crap Mechanical of All Time Award: Alejandro Valverde, absolutely blown outta the water on a crosswindy stage at the Tour. Still, he does get major class-act points for subsequently throwing his considerable power behind young untested Nairo Quintana. At least 'til he bushwhacked Purito Rodriguez at the Worlds!

Ride o' the Year (Thrill o' Victory Edition): yes, Fabian Cancellara's win at Paris-Roubaix was a beautiful--if almost inevitable--thing. But for sheer passion and love of the sport--even if he did have a huge crash near the line to partially thank for it--John Degenkolb's stage 5 win at the Giro, and subsequent collapse, was a jump-outta-yer-seater. Complimenti!

Ride o' the Year (Agony of Defeat Edition): a desperate Tony Martin, caught seconds before the line at stage 6 of the Vuelta. Valiant--but *so* agonizing to watch!

And, Last But Not Least, Lovable Legal Nitpick o' 2013 Prize: no, not that dissembling wanker Lance--it's our swoonworthy wreck-on-wheels Alexander Vinokourov, not so much taking issue with the allegations that he bribed himself his 2010 Liege-Bastogne-Liege win from Kolobnev, but pissed as hell that some thieving amoral jackwagon apparently hacked his personal e-mail to get the proof. Oh Vino--I don't know if you're best or worst thing to happen to cycling in this generation, but dang, you are by far the most fun!

Well, them's mine, and if I missed anything that ought've been include, feel free to write it in. In the meantime, I'm looking forward to the hijinks of 2014--the new season's sure got a lot to aspire to!

We Are the Knights Who Say (I) Ni(ver Want to Win the Tour Again)!; Tinkov Makes Amends; and, Yay, It's Euskistar!

That's *Sir* Brad, You Serf!: hearty congrats to 2012 Tour de France champ Brad Wiggins, knighted today by Queen Elizabeth and, with the newfound gallantry appropriate to his rank, all kindsa "I Heart Froomey" and "Nope, Still Don't Want the Tour Again." Froome, for his part, graciously allowed that the hatchet is indeed buried between the two, not only, he swears, because Brad can now have him beheaded. Brad, from your former rabble subjects across the pond, we doff our hats--now *don't* diss the beautiful Giro d'Italia again by claiming you really want that win either!

I'm Sorry, You Lazy Hack!: in other olive-branch news, enjoyably unstable cycling oligarch Oleg Tinkov has sorta apologized to Alberto Contador for last Tour's blizzard of humiliation tweets, offering that he was only doing it to "provoke" the demoralized boy into some positive action. Next up--Tinkov throws our hero's !@# into 10 years of hard labor in some miserable rock-breaking hellhole to "encourage" him. Awww, that's sweet he cares so much!

That's *Eye*-gor!: last but not least, much as I've admittedly hated team Movistar's fat-cat thieving Euskaltel-poaching guts for contributing to the downfall of the squad by persisting snatching some of their best talent, now that our beloved Carrots are indeed no more (except for the new development team--in five years, watch out suckers!), I gotta concede I'm pretty stoked that frighteningly jobless erstwhile Igor Anton has been signed by the team, along with the previously-snagged alums climber-duo Ion and Gorka Izaguirre and sprinter Juanjo Lobato. All right, the hell with Valverde, you *seen* these boys in the high passes?--change those blue jerseys to orange already, and make Piti fight for it next year!

Wiggo Throws a Bone; Horner Dodges, Demands; Lance Wants to Lie Less, and More!

The Fast and the Forgiving: yep, just as Brad Wiggins was a near shoo-in for this year's Giant Peloton Whiner Award, he's not only redeemed his miserable season by a blazing confidence-restoring time trial at the Tour of Britain, he's even reached out (sorta, indirectly) by gamely saying that even though he'd rather be slathered in honey and tied to a starving hill o' fire ants than have to be nice to Froomey, he's still going to work for the backstabbing glory-hog like a trouper in the Worlds road race. I gotta give it to Brad, that's kinda sweet! Well, we'll see if Brad gives it to Chris Froome in the road race...Chris, you might want to get at least one other teammate in between you and Wiggo at all times, just in case!

What? I Can't Hear You? I Think We've Got a Bad Connection: meantime, as speculation runs rampant that newly-crowned 2013 Vuelta champ Chris Horner is the notorious dope-sucking "Rider 15" named to the narcs, Horner was luckily caught on the phone at a completely inconvenient time and unable to answer unpleasant questions twice by cyclingnews' intrepid reporter, leaving everyone to think (1) he's understandably tired and wanted to get home and (2)exactly what they already thought about that evil cheating drug-stuffed piece of--uh, this thrilling example of the triumph of the human spirit, anyway. At the same time, our still contract-less Grand Tour winner is reportedly in negotiations with Alonso's new Euskaltel, allegedly demanding a cool 1.4 million to drag the outfit down in scandal'n'flames before it even st--uh, shoot the team straight to the top of the ProTour next year. Jaysus, Alonso, you couldn'ta just chipped in and preserved our actual dear Euskaltel if you were gonna blow that kinda dough on one guy?

Look Who's Talking (If It Makes Him Look Better Compared To Some Other Guys): and, I don't know about you, but I am touched--*deeply* touched--by Lance Armstrong's newly-stated heartfelt desire to cleanse his wounded remorseful soul and tell even less lies than he's already lied about already, if other riders'll make him look like less of an !@#hole by speaking up too, which is exactly the kind of openness that will continue to heal this sport and--hey--where's the rest of the peloton going? We're all truth'n'reconciling now! Right here! Guys? Guys?

No, No, It's Perfectly Fine For a Major Road Race to Run in Traffic: finally, over in the ever-jacked women's peloton, recriminations continue to fly for this week's ultimately disastrous Giro della Toscana in which half the field refused to complete the race, thereby screwing their own training preparations for the Worlds, just because a bunch of high-maintenance uppity spandex "riders" pettily objected to some dumb!@# thing like "personal safety." Unreasonable evian-sipping prima donnas! Next thing you know, the stupid *guys'll* demand that the roads be cleared for *their* races. Oh, wait...

Holy Crap, It's Like "Jaws," But in Reverse: Man Circles, Attacks Shark #LaVuelta

It's a Bleeder!: so after a nervous other-day in which Vincenzo "Lo Squalo" Nibali already gave a surgin' Horner back 20-odd seconds, now the ageless "George Hamilton o' the Peloton" is goin' in for the kill: yep, you heard it, Horner tore another big chunk outta Nibali and left him with a mere three seconds' lead, a certainly-battered ego, and 2 huge mountain stages including the dream-shattering Angliru still to go. I know you're always tranquillo, Nibali, but even you gotta be freakin' out just a little right now! Mitigating Motivating Factor: Vinokourov'll sink you to the bottom of a lake if you disgrace him out there. Possible Saving Grace: Horner gets blood-tested and is disqualified for actually being a robot, or popped for whatever miracle-preservative-'n'-PED concoction he's loaded on. Forza, forza Vincenzo--I just don't like Horner's performance, it's too Contadorian! Here, judge (and cringe) for yourself:

Wah, !@#$in' Wah Report: so Chris Froome leaves his own team captain in the mountainy dust--well beyond, apparently, the previously-approved, non-humiliating margin--and the !@#$in' LEADER OF THE TOUR DE FRANCE, instead of beating him into submission after the stage with a stench-filled sweat-soaked bib-short chamois in front of the team, staff, family, friends, and press corps--sends a whiny snot-nosed woe-is-me threat to QUIT THE RACE to a cycling legend? Screw you, you big baby, you *shoulda* dropped out! Damn, even that preening prima donna Armstrong just publicly slagged Contador to everyone and acted like a bitter high-school homecoming runner-up on the podium, he didn't !@#$in' dishonor the maillot jaune by threatening to leave the biggest show on earth in some sissy-boy snit fit. That's it, 2012 Tour title goes to Froome--what, Wiggins, you gonna whine yer way outta the Worlds on some stupid pretext next?

Supersonic: and, tho' Marianne Vos set a course record for fastest prologue ever at the Giro della Toscana, it's of course Giorgia Bronzini who continues to completely dominate the 2nd half of the season, kickin' the crap outta everyone else in yesterday's sprint finale, *again*. Mario "the Chest" Cipollini, you counting? She is gonna *crush* you on career stage wins, and with half the opportunities to race and no personal hairstylist to boot!

Stuff It, Faithless Ones!: finally, while dear Euskaltel has *yet* to win its *inevitable* stage this Vuelta, not only are our beloved carrots kicking Astana's works in the team classification, *but* Egoi Martinez won Most Combative today. Auuuppppaaaaaaaaaaa darling Euskaltel--and watch out tomorrow, they're getting antsy, I can tell!

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

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

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

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

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

My Fantasy Brad Wiggins Press Conference

Good morning. I'd like to thank all of you for coming here today at my insistence despite the fact that I hate the press, despise publicity, complain at any acknowledgement of my existence, and want all you vultures to just leave me alone. HEY--YOU AT THE BACK GETTING THE DONUT--PAY ATTENTION OR I'LL HAVE BRAILSFORD KICK YOUR !@#!

We're here to address the controversy surrounding my agonizing decision not to defend my 2012 title at this year's Tour de France, which as you know I never even wanted to do at all in the first place, even before I saw I'd completely choke on this year's course, that nutwhacking little !@#$ Froome was gonna steal my thunder *again*, and the race organizers inexplicably turned down my 50,000 euro "incentive" to substitute the mountaintop finish at Alpe d'Huez with a 300 kilometer perfectly flat time trial. HEY, LADY IN THE SECOND ROW NURSING THE BABY--ITS EYES FOCUS *HERE*! (jabs fingers towards his own face) Instead, I was fully committed to riding as my very first choice the noble and beautiful Giro d'Italia, which I proved by telling the press continuously throughout the race that what I really wanted to do was ride and win this year's Tour again. Luckily, I was able to get outta *that* one just in time to keep yet another one of my superdomestiques from embarrassing me with an overall win!

Next, in light of my catastrophic and previously-unannounced knee injury, which also has nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that Froome, Rodriguez, Contador, and even that erratic whackjob Valverde would crush me like a cochroach in July, I'd like to make it absolutely clear that I throw the entire weight of my prestige, power, and warm support behind my great friend and worthy Grand Tour team leader Chris Froome. BLUE SHIRT WALKING OUT THE DOOR--NEXT WEAKLING WHO GETS UP TO USE THE 'BATHROOM' WHILE I'M TALKING CAN !@#DAMN USE HIS PANTS! Accordingly, any instances of the chamois being ripped outta his bike shorts, tranquilizers being put in his water bottle, custom bikes mysteriously falling into the hotel woodchipper, and/or Muzak blasting into his earphone from the team car instead of instructions from the DS during key strategic moments is purely accidental.

As for the repulsive and slanderous rumours circulating in the peloton about Team Sky's unimpeachable training methods and firm anti-doping stance, I'd like to say not only that if you think Lance came down on anybody who crossed him, you haven't haven't halfway seen the destruction *I'm* capable of wreaking, and frankly, if there's anybody you oughta be looking at, it's F--uh, France! Finally, as for my plans for the rest of season, I'm really looking forward to undermining my hardworking loyal helpmate Henao at the Vuelta a Espana, even though its brutal heat and sadistically steep climbs are totally unsuited to my strengths and beautifully suited to his. As for the World Championships, I--YOU WHISPERING AT THE BACK, ONE MORE PEEP WHILE I'M UP HERE AND I'LL RIP YOUR VOCAL CORDS OUTTA YER THROAT!

I will now take questions I find complimentary and pleasing, accept adulation from commoners, and pose for photographs wearing a full set of knightly armor and hoisting a javeli--HOW DARE YOU GET UP TO LEAVE EARLY, I'M ABOUT TO PLAY "STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN" ON MY GUITAR, I'LL HAVE YOUR JOBS YOU !@#ERS! Thank you.

Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow (Just Not on the Freakin' Galibier!) #giro

You're As Cold As Ice: yep, after more'n a week in relentless pounding rain, the Giro d'Italia peloton finally gets a break: now that they're finally in the glorious (and race-determining) mountains, it's a blizzard instead! Upshot: to honestly the relief and agreement of the GC contenders, today's climb to Sestriere is cancelled, replaced by a summit finish at Jafferau. Unfortunately, looks like it'll still be raining in Bardonecchia, so bundle up anyway boys! Tomorrow: the beautiful and fearsome Galibier likely faces the axe, some silly thing over a "threat of avalanche." What, you guys don't want a little push on the descents--you've been complaining about 'em all week!

Gone With the Wind (Well, Rain Mostly): meantime, as Ryder Hesjedal (an honorable defense, Ryder!) tries to figure out what went wrong and Brad Wiggins recovers from his crap chest cold, Chris Froome has reportedly built an impenetrable bunker in the Sky team bus to protect his now-blown position as team leader in the Tour de France, cutting off access to the coffee machine, booby-trapping the chamois cream with hot red pepper flakes and armed with his trusty hipster-haircut-destroying buzz-cut clippers should Brad attempt a hostile takeover. Oh come on, Brad, be a sport--you hate the cold and wet, right, so why not just saute yerself over at the hot hot mountains at the Vuelta instead and leave Froomey to the Tour he's earned--of course, you'll have to keep up with your own teammates first!

Jeeeeens! Jeeeeeeeeens! Jeeeeeeeeeeennnnnnnssssss!: finally, it's time for the Amgen EPO Tour o' California to just pack it up and go home, because once Jens Voigt wins a stage in one of his joyous slobbering Labrador-retriever-on-tennis-ball attackfests, really, despite Tejay putting in a rippingly exciting time trial yesterday and all, what's the point of anything else? Just give Jens his Kingship of the Entire Planet already, set the man up a sacred throne room in every country he visits, and commence the worship already!

And, Last Few Hours This Week, Enter to Win Here!

Watch Out, Froomey: Brad's Coming to Take His Tour Back! #giro

Back off, Beeyotch!: Well, Froome, if his constant strip-tease over whether he'll show you his team leadership at the Tour didn't convince you yet, this oughta do the trick: after a coupla lackluster days in the saddle, and even given his Colombian lieutenants' hasty diss that they're "not [you]" and don't plan to backstab Wiggo at the Giro, Sir Brad is tentatively possibly theoretically ready to support Rigoberto Uran Uran for the GC in the Giro. Uh oh, you know what *that* means--he no longer thinks he's fighting for number 1 in Italy, and whether or not he's suited to the course this year or not, he wants his chance at Paris *back*! No offense, Chris, but my money sez that if that guitar-twanging royal puts his foot down, you're gonna be tossed into the bushes like an empty drool-soaked water bottle. Well, I'm sure you won't mind giving Wiggo a hand (hell, a whole body) up the mountains in France--you sure were a good sport about it last year!

California Here I Come: meantime, over at the Amgen EPO Tour of California, stage-winning sprinter Peter Sagan playfully grabbed noted actor Robert Downey Jr.'s !@# at the podium presentation, upon which Downey immediately morphed into Iron Man and pounded Sagan 300 miles into the Earth's mantle with a single blow. Bonus--it took the focus off the extremely widespread and gnarly press coverage of poor Ivan Basso's nut-al region cyst. Anyway, Peter, be grateful that's all you got for yer shenanigans this time--and congrats on another great win!