We waitin' on our score in the kiss and cry room, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers



Russian figure skater, Evengi Plushinko, continues to whine about not winning the gold medal; today he announced he his now calling his silver medal a platinum medal. As a result we are now calling Plushinko: Flushstinko.


Four Oregon football players have been arrested in one month; the program has no choice but to exact strict disciplinary measures, or change their name to Florida.



Wildly flamboyant men’s figure skater, Johnny Weir, has detailed his difficult time growing up. Well, at least Weir didn’t get teased because his last name rhymed with a pejorative term for gay people. Oh, shoot.



Golfer John Daly is endorsing a line of underwear called Slix. Really? Slix? Was the name Skids already taken?



Golfer John Daly endorsed boxers called Slix that Daly says are the most comfortable underwear ever. This is clever marketing because, after a 250 pound man has walked 18 holes on a hot golf course, who doesn’t want to think about his underwear?



Last night NBC aired mostly Olympic ice dancing where the contestants await their score in “The kiss and cry room.” This is not to be confused with our family room when my wife and daughter insisted I watch ice dancing, that was, thanks to me, “The hiss and sigh” room.


Doctors say the current colon cancer screen test doesn’t go far enough. They recommend a procedure that goes deeper into the colon, in fact, it goes so far into the colon it has to be administered by the IRS.

Since you asked:

Dear People who go out of their way to tell me they hate things I like:

For whatever reason, probably to let me know how much cooler they are than me, which has to be one of the easiest things to be in the world, people feel compelled to express to me, directly or indirectly, that they hate things I happen to like very much, namely, A, The Eagles, B, Jay Leno, C, Bob Costas.

Forget the fact that all three of these disparate things have one thing in common: there is nothing to hate about them. Maybe your tastes lie elsewhere, you have better preferences for other bands, comedians and sports announcers. But to go out of your way to announce you hate something that is practically utterly unobjectionable in almost every way, and that you know I like, speaks volumes about you. And what those volumes say have only one common theme: you are a pain-in-the-ass.

So thanks for identifying yourself ahead of time so I didn't have to.

Let's take the Eagles for example. (Oh, goody, because you haven't probably gone a whole month without prattling on about them)

Be quiet, inner tirade.

Yes, I have a love/hate thing going with the Eagles, but that derives from deep feelings of betrayal when MY band turned into exactly what they fought against being: a soulless corporate brand name. And that happened when they fired Don Felder.

But I still appreciate their music. Why wouldn't you? It is great voices singing catchy melodies in perfect harmony to well played guitars, bass and drums. Sure, most rock critics, like Lester Bangs, hated the Eagles, but Lester Bangs was the first to admit he was a freaking goofy weirdo.

Ever since "The Big Labowski" hipsters think it's cool to hate the Eagles because the Dude hated the Eagles. Did they forget the Dude is an utter stoner/loser? Lord knows, I loves me some his Royal Dudeness, but he is not portraying the harbinger of good taste. He drinks white Russians for the love of god.

You know who hated the Eagles? Punk rock fans. Have you listened to punk rock lately? It holds up about as well as avocado shag carpeting. Yes, it seemed rebellious and cool at the time, but punk rock, when heard with the clear ears of years of perspective from simply a musical standpoint, clearly sucked harder than Paris Hilton in the Judge's chambers trying to get a reduced jail sentence.

Some of the "pioneers" of punk rock, now senior citizens, laugh and joke in documentaries about how their bands didn't know how to play their instruments. And they didn't care.

Yes, I get the Eagles and Jay Leno and Bob Costas all fall under what I call the Hootie and the Blowfish syndrome. That is when something becomes so popular, the kids who were unpopular in high school, but now wear their unpopularity like a flag desperately believing it declares them cool, proclaim their hatred of said popular entity, thus making them feel even cooler. This is also filed under the "Any and all things hated by Janeane Garofalo."

Just look at how she spells her first name and you get some idea what a pain in the ass Janeane is. I bet she makes a big stink when people don't pronounce it the exact odd-ass way she want it pronounced. "Jahh aahh nee aaan. What a tool.



All Praise the Decathlete

Kudos to the sports world for recognizing the cross-over benefits of the incredible power-to-weight ratio, speed and and athleticism of Decathletes. At the winter Olympics many of the top Bobsleighs have Decathletes as pushers. Their combination of size and speed and make them perfect to push the sled and their size then acts as ballast to increase the speed and inertia down the hill.

Believe it or not, in the Sixties, Hollywood was the first entity outside of the track world to recognize the unique talents of Decathletes. Instead of just hiring cowboys for stuntmen, for action movies producers noticed the physical toughness and naturally muscularity of Decathletes translated perfectly as stuntmen. Gold and Silver 1960 Olympic medalists Rafer Johnson and CK Yang got work in the movie business. Believe it or not, '76 gold medalist Bruce Jenner had the inside shot at the role of Superman before Christoper Reeves. That was before they discovered Jenner couldn't act his way out of a wet paper bag. This was many years before Jenner's steroid inflated muscles deflated like a Macy Thanksgiving float shot by a gun and plastic surgery turned him into looking like a deranged lesbian prison warden.


The NFL has signed many Decathletes to be hybrid tight end/wide receivers. Their size, discipline and toughness make them amazing special teams players and blockers, and their coordination and speed make them great receivers.


Plus it never hurts a team's chemistry to inherit an athlete who knows what it feels like to train hard for six hours a day.