We loves us some some, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

Get it?
Hillary Clinton spoke at the Democratic Convention last night and it got emotional. It got so emotional at one point, Bill Clinton was crying so hard his date had to blow his nose.

Diva with a capital B
Nastia Luikin returned to the United States but refused to sign autographs for fans; now I don’t want to say she’s a diva, but insider’s say Nastia’s personality has a 5.5 degree of difficulty.

Amazing
You know the amazing thing about the Democratic convention? In the first hour, Michael Phelps won another gold medal.


Hillary Clinton spoke at the Democratic Convention last night. If you look carefully at Hillary’s speech you can see she is blinking in Morse code: Hillary for President. Hillary for President.


Hillary Clinton spoke at the Democratic Convention last night and she wasn’t fooling around; she had on her Game Day Pantsuit.

You go, girl
Hillary Clinton spoke at the Democratic Convention last night and endorsed Barrack Obama. But Hillary’s loyal delegates aren’t giving up. They want Hillary to keep commanding them from inside her bunker.

Not clear on the concept
With the Chicago Cubs in first place Cubs fans are trying to get used to the idea of the Cubs being in the playoffs. Some Cubs fans don’t get it. When told the Cubs could be playing in October, one Cub fan said; “How are the Cubs going to play football?”

Since you asked:
At Cardiff-by-the-sea beach they built a statue of a surfer. Great idea, right? Except that the statue-guy who is supposedly surfing is quite the dainty little sexually ambiguous fellow posed in the most flamboyantly effete stance possible, awkwardly bent over with arms out as if he is flapping his pretty little wings with wrists bent and fingers pointed with flair like a ballerina. Let’s put it this way, if a statue could have a lisp, it would be this one. This statue makes Michelangelo’s David look straight.

Not a big winner with the “I eat reefs for breakfast” macho surf dudes. So, naturally, the surf statue has been turned into a running joke dressed by vandals with silly hats, costumes and ballerina tutus.

But that derision took an ugly turn recently.

Somebody put a stand up paddle in his hand and placed a sign that said “No Sweepers Allowed.” (Sweepers is the old crotchety surfer’s term for us stand up paddleboard surfers because the rowing motion simulates that of somebody working a broom)

That’s fine, I don’t have anything to do with those burnt-out morons anyway. I stay out of their way and don’t talk to them unless they say something friendly. And nobody has said anything negative. But then most surfers aren’t very big.

But, just so you know, old crotchety surfers, if your world is so small and sad that it is threatened by somebody because they choose to surf with a paddle in their hand, the problem is not with us SUP’s. What’s that expression? If you can’t spot the loser at the poker game, it’s you? Let me put it another way. What separates humans from animals is also what separates Stand Up Paddleboard surfers from surfers: the ability to use a tool.

When both sides try and fail
Bryan Clay’s “Late Show With David Letterman” appearance

If there is anyone who is uniquely positioned to try and appreciate both sides of this appearance, it is me. As somebody who participated in and loves the Decathlon, I know what a truly amazing, noble, tough, beautiful and historic event it is. And I also understand how hard it is to try and be funny and entertaining in front of an audience without making a fool of yourself.

Letterman didn’t mean any disrespect and in fact was very knowledgeable and respectful about the Decathlon. And his love and enthusiasm for the high jump and pole vault is genuine, although I think people think he was making fun of it. And Bryan Clay is an interesting guy but I got the feeling he is earnest, shy and quiet and more than a little nervous. Clay is much more confident on a track than being talked about which is about par for most serious athletes. There just aren’t that many Charles Barkley’s.

The interview was fine if not a little drawn out. Clay did well and Dave was funny. But then, after the interview segment, they had Clay go out on 34th street and throw the shot, discus and javelin at a cab. Not even a moving cab, just a stupid cab that was twenty feet away from Clay. It wasn’t at all funny, which Letterman was hoping for, and it made Clay look like a goof ball, which nobody wanted.

(Oh, by the way, if Clay is five feet ten inches, I am six feet six inches. He is 5.8 at best which makes high jumping 6.10 and owning the world record in the Decathlon discus even more amazing)

Bryan was a good sport for trying, but that was a badly conceived idea from Letterman’s segment producers. Have Clay race Letterman and a chubby intern. Have Clay challenge the jumping dogs in the pool. Get Letterman to pole vault. Throw the shot at the cab from the roof. Have Clay try to hit a launched watermelon with the javelin. Anything but what they did. The guy is the freaking gold medal winner in the Olympic Decathlon, don’t have him stand in the middle of the street like some jamoke vandalizing a city cab.

Don’t be hatin’ on a playa, put yo hands in the aye-year (air) like a you just don’ cay-year (care) Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

Name game
Now I don’t want to say NBC is desperate to keep those Olympic ratings, but they just changed the name of their sitcom “My Name Is Earl” to “My Name is Michael Phelps.”

Not the same
Now we go from the Beijing Olympics to the Democratic Convention. Oh goody. That’s like going from a naked super model hot tub party to a root canal appointment.


The Beijing Olympics are over and now it is the Democratic Convention. The Olympic Motto is Swifter, Higher, Stronger. The Democratic Convention motto is Grovel, Pander, Yammer.

Oh, let’s hope not
Scientists are close to developing a cloak that makes the wearer invisible. Let’s all hope and pray this invisibility cloak does not fall into the wrong hands. Namely, Idaho Senator Larry Craig.

Its official name
There is an actual medical term for the withdrawal symptoms from missing watching the Olympics on NBC. It’s called Bob Costas-atosis.

Bird brains
The only thing about the Olympics I won’t miss are those two annoying chickens in the Foster Farms commercials. How could chickens be so stupid that they beg to be slaughtered, plucked, cooked and eaten, and yet they’re smart enough to talk?

Since you asked:
Seriously, Joe Frickin’ Biden? The guy personifies political sleaze and phoniness. First of all, the guy is the Senator from Delaware. No offense, but Delaware is more of a small region than a state, like the panhandle of Florida or The upper peninsula of Michigan. How many people live in Delaware? Ten? OK, more than that, but I know it’s not a million. Being the Senator from Delaware is like being the head of the Catholic Church in Utah.

Secondly, the guy got caught plagiarizing at least ten times. And he just didn’t steal a line or two, he swiped an entire English guy’s speech. And I thought I read that the guy got caught plagiarizing in law school and got an F as a result. In other words, a bunch of lawyers thought he was lying. That’s like being kicked off of an NBC sitcom for bad acting.

But my biggest problem with Biden? The bad hair plugs. Honestly, there is no shame at all in being bald. Some of the coolest guys in the world are bald. Jason Taylor football stud and “Dancing With the Stars” babe magnet is bald. Women pass out over that guy.

No, the problem starts when a guy goes bald and then tries to cover it up. Something turns rotten in their soul and they fester into lying, slimy dirt bags. Without question the three biggest scuz-bags I have ever known all had bad comb-overs. Two were my boss at one point, one in New York, one in San Diego. Truly heinous schmucks with cruel, twisted and sad souls.

(Although, I have to admit, my first boss in downtown San Diego had a bit of a bad comb-over and he was one of the nicest and most genuinely loyal and great guys I’ve ever known. But his replacement with the really bad comb-over and striped “slimming” shirts had cloven hooves)

Need proof that people with comb-overs are evil? Two words, Donald Trump. No lie, I knew a guy in college at UC Santa Barbara who was a nice enough guy. Now he is a big shot real estate dude in San Diego and without question one of the most pompous, arrogant and humorless jerks in Carmel Valley – and that is really saying something - and he has a fricken shiny weasel of a toupee on top of his head. I’m not kidding, it’s a pelt.

This Biden guy is a douche bag. Barack Obama has been kicking ass this campaign – to beat Hillary Clinton, who is an amazing campaigner, is impressive - but this Biden thing was a bad move.

Nature provides its beasts with warning signs for those who will heed them. The rattle on the rattlesnake, the hoof pawing the earth prior to a charge from a bull, the forward ears, mouth and high tail of a growling dog.

For people the warning signs are much more vague, but they are there. Driving a Hummer. A religious fish on the back of the car. Too much cologne. Anyone who addresses a group as “People.” The loud shuffling of feet. People who interrupt you to say to their ringing cell phone “I’ve got to take this” The littering of sentences with FYI, lifestyle, it is what it is and “can I be honest with you?” (Sure, you can be honest with me, but that means you admit you’ve been lying until now)

But the surest warning sign that a person is trouble is a bad comb-over or hair-plugs, like Joe Frickin’ Biden.