Are you watching the Olympics? Sam and I are. We really like the women’s beach volleyball. And how about that swimmer, Melissa Franklin? What a dazzling smile and personality she has. She could charm Sam and I any day.
Too bad England time is 13 hours ahead of our time. Our television news people warn us that we shouldn’t look at the list of medal winners at six o’clock if we don’t want to know who won (or lost) until Olympic coverage comes on the telly at eight. But shoot, who can resist the temptation? Then when you watch Ryan Lochte get blown away by a French guy in the 200-meter swim you already know it’s going to happen and you get the bad news twice; could be though, that seeing on the evening news that Lochte lost softens the blow a little later when we actually watch him do it. So far, he hasn’t looked like the champion everybody touted him to be. He is not going to replace Michael Phelps as America’s male swimming hero.
Melissa Franklin, on the other hand, could become American’s new female hero. Is it as interesting to you, as it is to Sam and me, that the U.S. seems like it’s becoming a nation dominated by female achievers now rather than male achievers? Our winning school sports teams, our professional sports teams, our Halls of Congress all seem lately to be ruled by winning women. That reminds me of when my stepfather used to read these rather smutty magazine stories about giant and/or sexy women who lived in remote jungle villages and ruled those places and explorers would accidentally discover them. But never mind, this is not an “adult content” blog.
Couple the stories about winning and/or superior women together with all the TV ads promising to help guys with their erections, their prostate, their incontinence, their low testosterone, their weak hearts and so on, and you can’t help but wonder what the heck is going on. It’s sort of like watching our supposedly invincible guy’s beach volleyball team almost lose to one of those Slavic countries (good grief!) or watching the Mexican double high dive team blow us away with graceful somersaults and flips. And how about our favored-to-win men’s gymnastics team’s big belly flop?
Is it any wonder that so many guys these days don’t seem to mind being called one of Arnold Schwarzenegger’s so-called girly men? They’re coming out of the closets everywhere you look; they just want to be on the winning team. It all makes me sort of glad that my time is growing shorter and someday soon I won’t have to worry about it all. Anyway, excuse me now while Sam and I go to the park to find some trees to pee on. If he squats instead of raising his leg, I’ll give him away to the nearest humane shelter.
Three bags of poop on being a loser. It hurts too much. Poor Olympics competitors.
Too bad England time is 13 hours ahead of our time. Our television news people warn us that we shouldn’t look at the list of medal winners at six o’clock if we don’t want to know who won (or lost) until Olympic coverage comes on the telly at eight. But shoot, who can resist the temptation? Then when you watch Ryan Lochte get blown away by a French guy in the 200-meter swim you already know it’s going to happen and you get the bad news twice; could be though, that seeing on the evening news that Lochte lost softens the blow a little later when we actually watch him do it. So far, he hasn’t looked like the champion everybody touted him to be. He is not going to replace Michael Phelps as America’s male swimming hero.
Melissa Franklin, on the other hand, could become American’s new female hero. Is it as interesting to you, as it is to Sam and me, that the U.S. seems like it’s becoming a nation dominated by female achievers now rather than male achievers? Our winning school sports teams, our professional sports teams, our Halls of Congress all seem lately to be ruled by winning women. That reminds me of when my stepfather used to read these rather smutty magazine stories about giant and/or sexy women who lived in remote jungle villages and ruled those places and explorers would accidentally discover them. But never mind, this is not an “adult content” blog.
Couple the stories about winning and/or superior women together with all the TV ads promising to help guys with their erections, their prostate, their incontinence, their low testosterone, their weak hearts and so on, and you can’t help but wonder what the heck is going on. It’s sort of like watching our supposedly invincible guy’s beach volleyball team almost lose to one of those Slavic countries (good grief!) or watching the Mexican double high dive team blow us away with graceful somersaults and flips. And how about our favored-to-win men’s gymnastics team’s big belly flop?
Is it any wonder that so many guys these days don’t seem to mind being called one of Arnold Schwarzenegger’s so-called girly men? They’re coming out of the closets everywhere you look; they just want to be on the winning team. It all makes me sort of glad that my time is growing shorter and someday soon I won’t have to worry about it all. Anyway, excuse me now while Sam and I go to the park to find some trees to pee on. If he squats instead of raising his leg, I’ll give him away to the nearest humane shelter.
Three bags of poop on being a loser. It hurts too much. Poor Olympics competitors.
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