Deflection, Denial, Duhs, and "D'oh!"s: Cycling Reacts to the Armstrong Report

Deflection!: well, now that we know straight from the man himself that Armstrong henchman Johan Bruyneel wasn't sacked by RadioSkank--he just decided to leave to protect the team, the sweetheart--it's time for him to address the *real* victim here: yep, Johan himself, whose own quest for well-deserved vindication for these terrible lies by EVERYONE WHO EVER WORKED FOR HIM BUT LANCE has been severely compromised, not by the fact that basically any defense he could make is bull!@#$, but by USADA's meanie tactics. Please, can't *someone* make this go away? Oh, wait, Johan could, if he dropped this farce--well, the heck with that then I guess! And then of course there's doper-enabler sourpuss Pat "Dick" McQuaid, who unfortunately is too busy with the Tour of Beijing at the moment to pay attention to such trivialities, but who promises to take a looooooong, sloooooooooow, caaaaaaaareful read of the incredibly long and detailed USADA report as soon as hell freezes ov--uh, as soon as he gets a few minutes' break from his brutal mid-October schedule. Looking forward to what you have to say, Pat--though I imagine it ain't gonna be much without your lawyers present!

Denial!: meantime, I remain impressed that at a time when Lance was basically jammin' needles into his teammates !@#es at the dinner table, when he deigned to dine with them that is, so many of the guys who worked for him at the time--like, say, Jurgen Van Den Broeck and Classics maven Stijn Devolder, or Sean Yates--had no idea anything doping-related was remotely going on at USPostalDiscoveryRadioSkank. What's more, no one else in other teams associated with doping, like Fabian Cancellara at Bjarne Riis' CSC in 2006 when Basso was busted, or Brad Wiggins whose own team had to fire a doc closely associated with doping this season, or basically anyone who ever went to Michele Ferrari for training advice, or, well, every other team on the planet, had any idea what was going on anywhere either, even though they're intimately familiar with related slang terms and are pretty sure that everyone but them was doing it. Well, to be fair, there was no reason to think anyone was doping, since only the guilty ones ever turned up poz--oh, you almost have to feel kindly towards anyone who actually *believes* it when they suggest such things!

Duhs!: by contrast, all the smug little s.o.b.s who called for strict anti-doping controls only after they'd been caught and couldn't personally benefit from it anymore since they had to race clean--hi, St. David Millar!--are again calling for everyone else's head, presumably because Pat "Dick" and Hein Verbruggen didn't pull an Armstrong and cover *their* dirty doping carcasses when *they* could've used it. Way to pursue justice, you vengeful little hypocrites! Me, I'm ready to *call* for forced omerta on any whinging wanker who doesn't just shut the hell up umpteen years later after an initial mea culpa and then *quietly* just leading by example. Leave it to people who actually voluntarily raced clean in the 1st place and who you screwed too the 1st time around, you crybabies!

D'ohs!: last but not least, a moment of silence, please, for the guys still left on RadioSkank (at least til the whole team collapses tomorrow), not only the stellar Jens and Fabian and Andy (as Frank, I imagine, was already outta the picture), who at least have a chance of finding another home by virtue of their star power even if most teams' budgets are already blown elsewhere, but most particularly the poor remaining domestiques, who have possibly no chance of finding another home this late in the transfer season, and the staff, who are likewise gonna have a hard time finding new homes. !@#dammit Johan, you want to hose the bazillionaire dopers you created, fine--do you have to drag down the rider-and-staff minions down with you too?

Mutiny! Sabotage! Deadbeats!: the Tour Heats Up

Mutiny on the Team Bus!: yep, ol' Wiggo's got reason to be worried: stage beast/mountain maid Chris Froome is openly unhappy playing lieutenant to team captain Bradley Wiggins, and wants his own ship should the Tour de France have, y'know, uphills next year. Let the bidding wars begin--and start yer planning for 2013, Brad, this guy knows your strengths and weaknesses pretty well by now!

Road Rage!: first it's some moron setting up a tea party in the race course, then it's some eejits firing flares off at the maillot jaune, and now it's even worse: jack!@#es strewing tacks or nails on the road to screw the riders and change the race. Was it me, or did poor Cadel look like his fist was just lookin' for a face to meet? Good thing for the perp Evans didn't figure out on the spot who tossed those things on the tarmac! While we're at it, good on Wiggins Sky (and I guess even the rest of the initially-reluctant team bosses) for deciding to not take advantage of the situation, because especially if Wiggins is gonna take it anyway, a good minute-odd of the final victory margin in Paris would've been tainted with bad-karma skankdom. Well, by chaos' end, Hincapie was disgusted, Tejay was bewildered, Wiggo was proposing to pack the hooligans off to a soccer (sorry, dear Brits, I know it's really "football") match, and sadly, hardworking Kiserlovski, who's really animated the Tour so far, was out with an ugly collarbone snap. As to the fans, what the !@#$ is wrong with you people--what next, one of those wily net traps that'll sweep up half the peloton 20 feet off the road in a tangle of limbs and derailleurs? Just let these guys try to get home in one piece already!

Cheapskates!: meantime, over at RadioSkank, the implosion continues, as Johan Bruyneel adds insult to Jakob Fuglsang's already nasty screw-over by not only barring him from any more serious races, but also by not bothering to even pay him--or the Schlecks, or even the team's season-salvager Cancellara--for his humiliation. Oh, man up, Johan, don't take out *your* own well-earned problems on innocent riders--at least accept the legacy-killing end to your career with *some* dignity!

And, Yer Roundup Shorts: so Thor Hushovd's still down and out, Frank Schlecks' *still* bitching about Grand Tours having downhills, and the sprinters still can't stop themselves from sissy-boy slapfights in any forum whatsoever. Aw, heck, can't *anyone* give us fans a break this season?

Holy Butt-Kiss, Batman--It's the RadioShack Tour de France Roster!

Back in the High Life Again: man, even if they are about to fire 'im, it sure pays to kiss Johan Bruyneel's !@#--nary a week after Chris Horner was left off the preliminary RadioSkank short list, mere days after the canny oldster totally coincidentally came out howling in rabid defense of Lance Armstrong's honor, and just moments since Frank Schleck ran screaming from the prospect of GC team leadership like a--well, like a Schleck--Horner magically gets nominated to the RadioSkank Tour de France squad, with no other potential rival but the now-disfavored Andreas Kloden for road supremacy. More, he managed to pull it off, apparently, without even being forced to deal with Johan actually on-site in July. Damn, there ain't no flies on Horner! And what of ex-Giro headliner/hope-o'-the-future/clueless ingenue Jakob Fuglsang? Yep, vengefully consigned to oblivion,despite a full recovery, for his unforgivable nostalgia for the relative calm and actual, y'know, focus on cycling of Saxo Bank. Now *that's* how you build a harmonious, winning Tour de France squad, kids--dang, bring Armstrong back, find a way to throw Contador under the bus, but totally blow the podium, and it's 2009 all over again! Am I the only one who thinks that somewhere, even good sports Cadel and Wiggo are blitzed outta their minds on champagne right now?

Don't Even Think About It, Hoogerland: okay, Johnny "Barbed Wire" Hoogerland is one tenacious hard-man. And, in addition to continuing to ride when he'd been punched full of more holes than Armstrong's doping denials by a 30-mph flyer into a nest of razor wire, he did earn, and nobly wear, the polka-dot jersey for a hell of a stretch last year. But I got this to say: that's we love Samuel Sanchez' and Euskaltel's climber's jersey dammit, and podium or no podium it's gonna stay that way you punk! Here, let's replay: We love you Johnny, and wish you many stage wins--but aupa, Samu!

Nucular Waste: finally, good luck tomorrow to dashing Pippo Pozzato, who heads before the Italian narcs to defend himself against allegations he sought medical assistance from Lance's own right-hand-man Michele Ferrari. I wouldn't worry, Pippo--just tell 'em you attended a "party" at his offi--uh, "house," and I'm sure that'll work just fine! Oh, well, at least you didn't try to buy dope off the faked-out Vansevenant...

How Do You Spell "Implode"? R-A-D-I-O-S-H-A-C-K

And, Armstrong Sics the Pit Bulls: yes, having sworn any further investigations into his alleged career-long systemic doping would be met with a shrug, a smirk, and wholly bored silence, Lance Armstrong has apparently changed his mind: not only has he changed his snarling mantra from a carefully-worded "I never tested positive" to a definitive "I never doped", but he's gonna find the "anonymous" !@#$er former teammates who ratted on him and make sure they, like Tyler Hamilton, never take a whiz in peace in a public men's room again. Dang, just when I thought we were done hearing from him about this !@#$! Anyway, the debate over whether USADA oughta go after him rages on, with former rivals like Simeoni and Andreu raising their heads blearily from their current gigs scrubbing floors to express surprise, the usual Lance-lovin' zombies leaping to his all-caps defense on every website, and his despised haters--you know, those bitter talentless loser miscreants who prefer clean cycling--conceding that while even they're sick of this stupid crap and would enjoy watching an actual race for once, openness and catharsis can only be good for the sport, its undoped practitioners, its fans, and its aspiring greats-of-tomorrow. Me--I'd rather the lid be blown off the whole dirty scene no matter who's done it and how disappointed we'd be to hear their names, on one condition--that everyone stop acting like it wholesale stopped in 2008, acknowledge that some stunning percentage of greedy cheatbags are still gonna try it and in fact are trying it right this very minute, and quit pretending that just admiring a few sunny squads and holding 'em up as moral examples justifies stickin' our heads back in the sands like we do after every Festina/Op Puerto/CERA variant/egregiously reckless Riccardo Ricco' fades under our excitement over the newest grand tour rock star. Can we all agree to at least try that?

So the question is, after Travis Tygart is done dodging rotten vegetables, what happens to Lance and his record-breaking seven maillots jaune? Let's face it, why bother with a formal stripping of titles--who the hell we gonna give 'em to, Ullrich? (Of course, if we want to give, say, his 2002 edition to Joseba Beloki, I'll concede the perfect wisdom of that point.) I'd say about all we can do this late in the game with one guy personally is to put a big fat asterisk next to all his victories in the history books, affirm unapologetically that being a genuinely inspirational and life-changing spokesperson on a crucial cause doesn't entitle anybody to claim overall sainthood for something else entirely, and, if he *does* go after guys who have been nothing but loyal and subservient to him for darn near a decade if they had the gall to finally draw a line at lying under oath, make sure they're treated fairly (if not incongruously lauded, either) for coming forward. Why the hell else would anybody bother in the future? On the broader front, the only solution I can see is holding the teams and their management responsible--because besides saying no to an icon and power-broker like Lance or even any rider bigwig, it's gotta be damn intimidating for some jailbait neo-pro Tour de France dreamer to even think of objecting to systemic dope-dealing by the DS who just gave them a job and can easily tank their incipient career. You hear that, Johan--one strike, and you're out for life! So good luck now and in the future, USADA--you know how history has treated the messengers!

House of Pain: speaking of Bruyneel, who absolutely proclaims his complete purity, the all-star 70s disaster movie that is Team RadioSkank continues to steamroll onwards, with current team sponsors and their Schleck-lovin' boss already throwing Johan under the bus, the normally-quiet man-o'-experience (and as Ullrich's ex-right-hand-man, he sure is experienced) Andreas Kloden breaking his self-imposed silence to opine that teams who don't all actively hate each other tend to perform at a wee bit higher level, and Chris Horner, of all people, aggressively waiving the flag for Lance's total innocence and smacking back at Klodi for unprofessionalism for, y'know, stating the truth. Jeez, even *I* don't know whether to buy another box of popcorn or look away in horror at this point!

Uh, I'm Riding! Over Here! On My Bike! You've Heard of These Things, Like In a Race?: finally, as the Tour de France shapes up and the Olympic rosters are announced, I gotta say, Taylor Phinney is a fantastic young rider, will undoubtedly figure prominently in the history books, and has surely earned all the accolades he gets--but just as I was gonna go on a rant how Dave Zabriskie's getting completely screwed being denied the single time trial slot, comes USA Cycling's press release that Dave, along with Hincapie, Leipheimer, and Vande Velde, all former teammates of guess-who--asked to be left out of the Olympic team. Holy !@#$, Dave--I know you're riding the Tour and will be justifiably knocked out and all--but really, is that assclown Armstrong worth *this*? You *blow*, Lance--just *look* at all the havoc you've wreaked with your selfishness!

Johan Bruyneel Is A Complete And Total Tool

Punk-!@# Move of the Year: look, Johan, I know you've got to justify the truly sick wad of dough you've had to spend on those enormous cash-sucking 2012 disappointments, the Schlecks. And sure, Chris Horner's older'n Moses. But what he's not, and what you are, is a total backstabbing bitch. What kind of bull!@#$ move is that to let someone who's busted his !@# for you, someone who's been nice to Lance Armstrong for you, someone who rode through a potentially catastrophic concussion on a stage he doesn't even remember for you, know that you're keeping him off the Tour team by his wife freakin' reading it on the internet? What a !@#damn wuss you are! Worse, you didn't even man up enough to say you didn't think he was strategically not the best choice for the team, the sponsor threatened to rip your nuts off--whatever was true, it might've been disagreed with, but anybody can respect honesty--so why, especially when you've been publicly dope-slapping the Schlecks every five minutes for being boo-boo-whinging crybaby simp-toddlers, are you gonna blame Horner from having a back problem he says he's been riding a century every damn day through? Oh, sure, Johan heard the hate and "clarified" that Horner was told to be at the Tour de Suisse or stay home--but you've been telling the Schlecks all season to quit sucking, and you're still still letting *them* go! You *blow* Johan--now own your mind-boggling low-class crappiness to a stand-up guy before he supersizes himself at McDonald's the rest of the season in gloomy self-pity, and apologize you tool!

George Hincapie and the One That Got Away: in other bummers, ever-underrated strongman George Hincapie is retiring, and while certainly his rock-solid ever-grateful Lanceian loyalty has always been a puzzlement to me anyway since it took LA like 14 seasons to even allow the man a Tour stage, I gotta say, it may be time, but it's the peloton's, and tifosi's, loss. He's totally sacrificed his own ambitions for others despite a huge natural (and hard-trained) personal talent, he's aggressively mentored younger riders, and he's remained optimistic, polite, and discreet in the face of a lot of crap he didn't cause. George, I'm sorry your bike exploded, 8 billion yokels crashed ahead of you and held you up, and you got devoured by a pack of snarling wolverines so that you never actually got to win Paris-Roubaix--but thanks for some pretty stellar memories!

Cav Hits the Slimfast: finally, Mark Cavendish apparently isn't satisfied merely being one of the great sprinters of all time, because now he's decided that his butt's too big to drag up the climbs, as well, and is perusing a lifetime supply of insecurity-inducing women's mags for weight-loss tips. Is it me, or is he already (1) not that big for a sprinter already; and (2) whatever-many kilos of solid muscle as it is? Don't sacrifice your power for lightness, Cav--like Petacchi and Hushovd before you, you may just age-and-experience into being a better mountain man anyway, so why not enjoy what even I've gotta salute as pretty darn perfect as long as you can?

Yer Holy !@#$ of the Week: Peter Sagan at the Tour de Suisse. Am I the only person thinkin' there's a whoooooole lotta guys on competing teams just wetting their chamois at the thought of this guy up against 'em all season?

Yer Thoughtful Analysis o' the Week: What the !@#$ Is Wrong With the Brothers Schleck?

Let's be fair: on paper, Frank and Andy Schleck are admirably accomplished. National champions (okay, Luxembourg), a buncha Classics, stage wins and an overall win at the Tour de France (I know, PJ, not really!), and Giro and Tour podiums before Andy was even out of diapers. But in reality, we know the problem: compared to the hype on 'em, these guys are !@#$ups. Why, and what can we do to help 'em turn it around? Here:

1. Leopard Trek. A great idea, but it wasn't given enough time to develop. And frankly, when you've got Fabian Cancellara workin' for ya, yer average beer-guzzling pudge-gutted nacho-scarfin' American sports nut, much less an actual cyclist, oughta be able to sit there in his Barcalounger with his finger up his nose scratchin' for canapes and still put in a fine placing in a road race. Solution: dammit sponsors are instant-gratification crybabies, give 'em two seasons to develop next time whyndontcha?

2. They're Codependent. There's brotherly love, and there's brotherly luuuuuuuuuuuuvvvvvvvv. Frank's been catchin' you worms too long, Andy. And as a little sister, I do understand. But it's time to spread those little wings and fly on your own. Solution: Separate squads and a little healthy family rivalry. One of you's gonna have to suck it up and try to beat the other guy!

3. Time Trials. Look, all the practice in the world can't turn this lovably gangly dork into the compact muscular efficiency of a Cadel or the preying-mantis sleekness of a Dave Zabriskie. But !@#dammit, *someone's* gotta be able to shave off a few seconds for this boy *somewhere*. Solution: bike-fit gurus, I have it on completely legitimate authority (uh, mine) that Johan Bruyneel will personally pay you 1 million buckaroos for the perfect machine. Hell, he's losin' more'n that on Andy at the moment, right?

4. Descents. Il Falco he ain't. And descents *are* scary--for good reason. But they can be learned. And if you can't get down the Galibier without gripping onto the tarmac with yer teeth, fingernails, eyeballs, and nether hairs, you're doomed to lose. Solution: start low. Strap the kid flat on a skateboard at the top of an Alp, pat his hand for comfort, and give 'im a good hard Olympic-luge-style push. At worst, he can only fall two inches to the ground, so he'll soon get his confidence after a coupla 70 kph switchbacks. Voila'!

5. Denial. It's rainy. It's sunny. It's windy. It's calm. I'm still smarting from the ultra-wedgie Johan Bruyneel gave me this morning. Andy, as even you've finally acknowledged, at some point you gotta *own* this pup. Contador and Cadel have got something on you, and you need to figure out what pronto. Solution: Alexandre Vinokourov. He'll either dope you, berate you, or break your kneecaps with his bare hands, but one thing he *won't* let you do is whinge (did I get that right dear Brits?) to the press like some aristocratic inbred ascot-wielding tea-drinkin' weenie. START WINNING YOU WEAK-WILLED BASTARD OR I'LL FEED YOU TO THE SHARKS LIKE A BLOODY CHUNK OF CHUM!

6. Security. No Kim, no win. You don't separate Linus from his blanket, Schroeder from his piano, or, god forbid, Tommeke from his smoothie-smooth masseuse. Johan, the chemistry just ain't workin'. Quit bein' a beeyotch and let Andy have Kim Andersen in the team car. After all, let's cut to the chase here, the boys were better before they started on your squad. Am I right, or what?

7. RadioSkank. You boys just aren't Lance Armstrong, and no matter what you accomplish for him or for you, Johan will never, ever forgive you for it. He'll never forgive *anyone* for it. Look what happened to Contador for chrissakes! Solution: get out, out, OUT!

Well folks, them's mine, and their guaranteed road to success. If you got another way(s) to fix the Schlecks, spit it out--they need all the help they can get!

It's Jensageddon--Aiiiiggghhhhhhh!

Don't Tell My Heart, My Achy-Breaky Heart: oh my god, Anonymous (thanks Anonymous!) is right--we love Jens Voigt has signed with RadioSkank! It's like that horrible opening scene in "Jaws" where some pretty teenager bips away from the party at the bonfire to cavort in the surf ahead of her laughing boyfriend, and this creepy anticipatory music kicks in, and everything goes dead still for a moment, and a giant Great White shark rears up out of nowhere with its gazillion enormous razor teeth and ruthlessly chomps her to pieces, except it's Johan Bruyneel's head coming out of the water and he's got one of those unattractive RadioSkank jerseys clutched in his teeth and he hands it to Jens instead! Oh, Jens, I'll remain faithful to your superior godliness and if you say you want this I'll try not to yack--but please, please tell me this is all some horrid B-movie hallucinatory nightmare! Okay, just staaaaaay calm everyone (okay, me), at least Jens will still spend next year in the peloton no matter who he's with...

RadioSkank Is Scr!@#d!

Oh, Poor Levi: first, yes, I *am* personally a former Tour de France winner who's personally guided one of the best cyclists in history *and* the little twerp upstart I screwed over for him and he still won anyway to like half the Tour wins in the last generation, so !#@$ off, I *do* have the right to this opinion. Second, what the hell is RadioSkank thinking? Four GC contenders? Figuring out halfway through the race which one's got the legs then putting the other three guys who've already whacked themselves senseless trying to get the honor half-uselessly at his service? And tho' neither Levi, Klodi, Horner, nor Janez have mercifully shown any irritating signs over their (largely) long careers that they've got insufferable Lance-ian egos, so I suppose we needn't worry about any of them smiling with their heads then trying to kick the nuts off their intra-team rivals with their feet, does anyone else remember what happened the last time Johan decided to let the best rider win? Yes, a win, to be fair, but arguably the single bitchiest-behaved team and podium in Tour de France history, and this time, Bruyneel ain't quite got those freaks-o-nature to rely on. Dang, Johan, all those guys have talent to spare--if you want more'n just some stage wins, at least give one of them a no-holds-barred blitz of undisputed 100% support from day one til the chosen one chokes before dissing 'im!

Aw, Rats!: and, the 'Skank's roster also leaves we love Robbie McEwen at home, which not only inevitably dulls the sprint finishes, but dumps the entire responsibility for aggressive head-butting, violent outbursts, and general fisticuffs on poor Mark Cavendish, who, though undeniably a brilliant (and yes, Cav fans, very dashing too) sprinter, has frankly already got enough to worry about with Thor and Tyler set to stomp him out of the green jersey. Don't worry Cav, you'll still get a good half the sprints--just pray your hired goons' antics don't show up on the replay!

The Union of the Snake is on the Cliiiii-iiiimb: meantime, fallout continues from banned cheat-weasel Riccardo "the Cobra" Ricco' (now claiming his catastrophic incapacitating health crisis wasn't due to bad blood, but a really, really bad cold)'s cheap-shot sneak into a local gran fondo to help his buds, mainly in the form of hysterical "free Ricco'!" screeching from his Manchurian-Candidate brainwashed fans and sensible pleas from calmer tifosi just begging the nasty little squirt to go away. Oh, so he's banned from riding on the entire planet by his own cycling fed--he could always be someone's really, really, really helpful soigneur, right? Wait, maybe that's not such a good idea...unless you *like* 250 visits from the narcs a day!

Bow, Quick Step!: in transfer news, I see we love Tom Boonen has graciously decided to stay with ungrateful smack-talking jerkface Patrick Lefevere over at Quick Step now that the latter's turned unctuously complimentary, which makes me think there's *some* possibility the squad might actually give Tom the support he needs from now on. Hint: negative reinforcement doesn't work with 'im, you troll--but can you *try* to find a happy medium that doesn't involve an OD's worth of saccharine?

Is He or Isn't He? Part Deux: finally, speculation's still high as to Andy Schleck's form leading up to the Tour de France, with estimates continuing to range from "crap" to "don't worry! He's super! I swear!" Me, I'm just hoping that, with Rabobank sworn to revenge in July over Leopard-Trek heartily picking up the pace during the pleasant Bauke Mollema's ill-timed flat at the Tour de Suisse, Andy finally quits wanking about Chaingate from now on. He sure sounds confident: Oh, Schlecks, if we love Jens has your back, I've got no choice but to root for you anyway...

PS: I'm delighted, as I'm sure everyone is, to hear that Mauricio Soler continues to improve, and it looks like he has, fortunately, escaped any spinal cord injury. Keep it up Mauricio!

My Fantasy Lance Armstrong Team RadioShack Pre-Tour Pep Talk

Lance Armstrong: Good morning. I SAID GOOD MORNING, DAMMIT LEVI IF YOU CLINK THAT SPOON IN YOUR COFFEE CUP ONE MORE TIME WHILE I'M TALKING I'M GONNA JAM IT IN YOUR !@#$ING EYEBALL! First, I'd like to--(swigs drink, spits out onto first row of teammates)--GODDAMMIT POPO, I TOLD YOU I WANTED THE LEMON-LIME GATORADE, WHAT IS THIS ORANGE !@#$?! (wings full bottle at Popovych's head) Get out of my sight, you worm!

Anyway, first I'd like to say what an honor it is to work "with" every single one of you. Now, just because Dirk Demol said you were all picked because you're completely whipped doesn't mean he didn't call you 'pure slaves' in a complimentary way. Klodi--I've never seen my shorts and baselayers look so white. Horner, it was ultra-cool of you to stop slagging me in the press every day once I hired you just because you like me so much. How's that new Ferrari runnin' by the way? Paulinho, I really--damn, I dropped a crumb from my bagel on the floor. Lick it up, you dog! (he does) Hey Leipheimer, drop and give me twenty! (Levi complies) Ha, that was funny!

Okay, let's talk rivals. Contador, as you know, is !@#$ed with that half-!@#ed team and that erratic freak Vinokourov at the helm. Evans and Menchov? Uh-huuuuuuuh. Now, Andy Schleck, *he* scares me. Muravyev, you bushwhack that older brother he clings to in the mountains like a frightened baby monkey and he's already halfway to toast! If that doesn't work, Johan Bruyneel will immediately put Operation Total Lying Bulls!@#-I mean, Operation He Never Even Came Back To Win It Again In The First Place into effect. Anyone caught not following said protocol and covering my !@# will be immediately be taken out back of the team bus and executed. Capische?

Now, let's discuss doping. As you can see, Bernard Hinault here has not only won the Tour de France 5 times, but even more importantly, he's gonna be in charge of security. Naturally, after tackling interlopers off the podium the last two years, he's the perfect choice, if that betraying sack of crap Floyd Landis or even worse that crybaby whiner Greg Lemond tries to heckle me at a press conference, to cause them truly bloody and spine-mangling bodily harm. Thanks, Bernard!

Now pay attention you guys, this is crucial--Brajkovic here rode so well at the Dauphine that he gets to manage all my gratuitous celebrity suckups. While the full 21-day schedule is in your folders, and you *are* expected to memorize it, I'd just like to highlight that I've still got a restraining order against Ben Stiller for touching my bike last year, but Lady Gaga, Ben Affleck, and the cast of "Twilight" are in, plus, as a special surprise, Mel Gibson will be joining us for the stage to Ventoux with Bernard here ready to punch his teeth out if he starts to slip into one of his weird anti-Semitic rants. Jani, keep 'im off the booze, alright!

Finally, lest any of you forget how much I respect and value my bitc--I mean, domestiques--I remind you that it only took George Hincapie 7 straight years of completely sacrificing his incredible talent to my own ambition for me to reward him by letting him off the leash for a single stage win of which he was perfectly capable on multiple occasions that didn't inconvenience me personally in any way whatsoever. Therefore, in keeping with my incredible selflessness and generosity, I hereby promise Klodi, Levi and Horner that you, too, will be exactly so rewarded, which means, unfortunately, that since this is my last Tour de France, and none of you have put your seven consecutive years in, you're all completely !@#$ed. Thanks for all your hard work, you saps--now, on to the Tour!

An Honest Question for UCI (For Once)

And No Honest Answer Forthcoming, Of Course: all right, UCI, I may find your stupid disputes, petty favored-rider coddling, and total impotence annoying, but here's a sincere question for you: you've been crowing over the Italians' fearless pursuit of Alejandro Valverde for the last two years, so why the heck, with the Italians having just equally fearlessly kicked a whole squad out of the Baby Giro for allegedly having a bunch of suspicious medical supplies on hand, haven't you had the stones to take on Lance Armstrong's Astana (hell, even Caisse d'Epargne, and we know you already hate them) for allegedly doing the exact same thing (allegedly!) at the mildly more well-known and prestigious Tour de France last year? Now, before the fanatic Armstrong acolytes come out to screech at me, I'm sure, in addition to the whole rumor being entirely and completely false, either (1) one, some or all of the best athletes in the world at Astana were in fact so grossly debilitated by ailments every day that they couldn't make from the team bus to their hotel rooms without utilizing a surfeit of bizarre blood-related equipment or (2) some silly soigneur simply misread the word "aspirin" off the daily grocery list and inadvertently came home with the kind of stuff meth addicts usually have to break into hospitals to find. So truly--if this *did* seem legit enough for even the hated French to investigate, why isn't--particularly amidst their allegations of you schmoes being soft on dopers--UCI demanding that Johan's squad,like other teams not actually currently proven to be engaging in wrong-doing before it, be preemptively cut out of the Tour this year? Not that I'm suggesting it oughta be--I'm just genuinely curious. Well?

Down To Business: meantime, Contador certainly made his point to his former best-buddy-ever on the Alpe d'Huez this week--as a really smashing Janez Brajkovic clearly earned the overall--so with Lance looking on fine form at the Tour of Luxembourg and now at the Tour de Suisse, the question is, with Astana perhaps somewhat weaker as a whole but RadioSkank having likely lost crucial mountain goat Haimar Zubeldia to his broken wrist, who, a few weeks out, has got the edge for the Tour in July? Me, I'm so hoping either we love Levi Klodi or Horner is allowed a stage win instead I actually don't much care where their GC contender lands, so long as either Baby Schleck or even that aggravating rugrat Contador wipes the floor with 'im, but I gotta say, if Vino and Pereiro can hold it halfway together, I'm giving so far the slight bet on Alberto. So, in keeping with my fine tradition of losing choices, allez allez Schlecks!

Reading Is Fundamental: finally, class, for your summer vacation I'm going to assign you (because I'm too cheap to buy it, and I'm still saving up for Simoni's book, besides which the brash child ought to have *some* consolation for losing the green jersey at the Tour de France to Thor Hushovd *again* this year) Mark Cavendish's wildly-anticipated and splendiforously-received new tome, Boy Racer: My Journey to Tour de France Record-Breaker." While again, I can't personally speak for the contents, I *can* say on the "Surprise Me!" selection I pulled up on Amazon, I did learn more than one had ever anticipated about a top pro cyclist's breast-feeding and potty-training competitive streaks. Congratulations on your literary debut, Cav--and far better an autobio from you than another, say, Landis book!