Tuesday, August 17, 2004

Olympic Shocker

Wait a minute. You'll have to forgive me. I was wading through nipple-deep mud all weekend and I missed this.

We were blown out by Puerto Rico at basketball at the Olympics using a roster of NBA millionaire superstars?

Actually, I kinda figured we were ripe for the taking when I watched our team celebrate our buzzer-beater win over Germany like the New Jersey Republican Party upon hearing of McGreevey's true self. Actually, all of that piling on and cavorting on the hardwood resembled what must have been going on in the NJ Statehouse for the last few years. So I guess that celebration resembled both Republicans and Democrats from New Jersey. Where you at, Gay Nader?

Anyway, how can we lose to Puerto Rico? We OWN Puerto Rico. That's like me losing a game of one-on-one to my T-shirt or a stapler or a Buick. I mean, even though my Buick has a nasty jump-hook, these things can't beat me because I OWN them, plus my Buick would never get the calls from the international referees. And if Puerto Rico can form its own team, why can't any part of the US or any country have a team. Shit, my Brooklyn Heights team would be a world power in events such as pedantic ranting about expressway construction or library perusal. (I'd love to see Denmark's face when we're done kicking their ass at library perusal. "Don't fuck with my Dewey Decimal, Tørvald!")

I also learned, when I stepped down from my RV's retractable last step yesterday, that American spirits are way down. That robot swimmer we have won't win 25 medals. Both our military and basketball hegemonies are on the wane. Our female gymnasts are getting boobies and falling off the apparati. Our version of the national anthem on the medal stand is toned down to elevator music. Oh, and everyone hates us!

But let me tell you, readers. America is doing just fine. This country was weaned on the teet of capitalism and, if this past weekend at Phish was any indication, that milk is still chock full of vitamins. Walking through the campgrounds, one could find most anything for sale: chocolate covered magic mushrooms, pure-style MDMA ecstacy tablets, heady nuggets of marijuana, pharmacological medicines, pick-up truck and ATV rides to and from the concert venue, $50 hipboots, both dank and super-dank versions of ganja gooballs, mass-produced but microbrew-marketed beers, reasonably-priced hugs, innovative T-shirts with names of Phish songs on familiar corporate logos, and $1 pulls from a de-boxed Franzia bag laced with LSD and an anti-rusting agent for silverware. So when a Namibian wins the 110-meter high hurdles and we suck ass for silver, just remember that that Namibian guy probably can't pay $10 for pot-laced brownies when he gets home. Although he might find an anonymous dead man in his tent. God bless you, and God bless America!


At 11:41 AM, Blogger hoobs said...

i'm excited for the guam vs. american samoa game tonight. i agree with you donnie, the ioc should really tighten it's country/territory policies. here's a potential band name from an olympic broadcast last night: Funnel of Drama.

At 1:22 PM, Blogger Ace Cowboy said...

Funnel of Drama is a good band name indeed...

Arriba Puerto Rico Hoops.


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