I've yet to get confirmation, but I've got to assume that Bob Costas' contract stipulates that he must not be on screen with a taller man, who is not an athlete; because I swear to God they've put a 6-foot dude in a stuffed bra and a brown wig, and named him Mary Carillo. She got a voice like a fucking violone, for Pete's sake.

On the other end of the spectrum, we have Kerri Walsh. As if Women's Beach Volleyball needed the ratings boost. Thank you sweet baby Jesus.

Gymnastics, for all it's prancing, arm-lifting, ribbon-twirling flamboyance; is a staggering display of atheleticism. I tried gymnastics when I was in middle school. It lasted until we got to the rings, and my instructor noted, rather nonchalantly, that if we swung incorrectly we would dislocate one or both shoulders. I was like "Oh hey, um. I was just looking for something to do between soccer seasons, so I'm just going to ah, bow out at this point...given the...that um, the idea of two simultaneously dislocated shoulders made my balls shrivel into my abdominal cavity. So, ya'll have fun." Those people are strong to, like chimpanzees they are.

Just watched Phelps win his 9th career gold medal in the 200m freestyle; breaking the world record just for good measure. The only two Americans to ever win that many golds were two randoms named Carl Lewis and Mark Spitz. Whoever they are. I mean, who watches the Olympics anyways, right?

Posted by: shank at 09:28 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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