Ho, ho. USA Cycling would like it known far and wide that four who served the Dark Lord on U.S. Postal/Discovery asked pretty please could they be removed from consideration for sentencing to the U.S. team bound for LimeyLand and the 2012 Watney’s Red Barrel Memorial Olympic Hide and Seek.

And who can blame them? My paternal granda fled the English for Canada and then the Benighted States, and none of his descendants has exactly been in a hurry to retrace his flight in bass-ackward fashion.

I don’t even have a passport, as if that would make any difference in my travel plans. I can’t even manage to get out of this fucking town, much less the country, both of which would probably be happy to see me go, if only for a little while so they could catch their breath.

I don’t suppose this has anything to do with Texus Maximus getting his Band-Aided triathlon titties sucked up into USADA’s wringer. Naw. Y’think? Naw.

Meanwhile, the furnishing of the Robert A. Heinlein Memorial Crooked House® continues apace. After locating a bargain queen-size bed on Craiglist Herself surfed today’s Old North End garage sale and came up with a stylin’ Ethan Allen Mission-style frame, plus some bedding and towels that look better than similar items that we use our own bad selves. I contributed, too, shifting an espresso machine, a bean grinder and some other kitchenware across the way between paying chores.

Sheeeeeee-yit. If we just installed a bimbo with a taste for the bizarre over there we’d have the mortgage covered before you could say, “Hel-lo, sailor.”