Adios Futbol, Hello Starbucks

Hola amigos.  You feel a little different today don't you?  Perhaps a little less care free and no longer in harmony with your brethren around the planet.

As you should, Americans across the country are feeling hung-over (four shots of whiskey, six beers, and a baker's dozen Yagermeister night caps, hung-over).  The effects from our month-long binge into universal culture have caught up to us.  With Spain's victory over the Netherlands, our European inspired global holiday has come to an end.

Do you hear that?  I don't either.  It's silence.  We may never hear the soothing sounds of the vuvuzela ever again.  Thanks to their Gulfstream IV jet engine equivalent sound pressure, we might not hear anything else either.  But, that would be a blessing.  What earthly sound could ever replace those heavenly horns, the screams of intoxicated, Harry Potter scarf wearing fans, or grown men's cries of Shakespearian agony as they plummet 27 inches down to the unforgiving, grassy surface below?  Anything else would leave us feeling empty and longing for the good old days when soccer was futbol and a 32 year-old heterosexual American male need not feel shame in ordering a pint of Birra Moretti.

So, my dear friends, the sun has set on our utopian paradise.  Our freakish tans from shotgun-like sun block application juxtaposed with our "jealous of Caucasian" skin are fading.  Please turn in your Universal Citizenship cards at your departure gates.  It's time to put that Adidas track suit back in the closet until Halloween, stop using that fake British accent to impress the girls at the pub, start using that fake Australian accent to pick up the ladies at the bar, and do what the Greeks won't do - go to work.  And if you want to make good on your promise to perm your hair like Carles Puyol, that's your call, but don't expect me to be your wingman.  I already have plans that year.

Until 2014, we must don the cloak of Americanism and press on, pretending not to pine for the world's acceptance and resigning ourselves to watch other "sports" with much less drama.  I’m referring games that brutishly score much more than once within a 190 minute period.  As unsophisticated as baseball and American futbol may seem, we must break open a case of Coors and fool one another into thinking we are having a better time than the rest of the world, one inflammable hot wing-flavored belch at a time.   

What's that?  Yeah, I know we have a professional league here, but let's face it; Dick’s Sporting Goods Park in Commerce City, Colorado lacks the international zest of a Nelson Mandela Bay Stadium in Port Elizabeth, South Africa.  It also lacks the vuvuzelas. 

The World Cup is like the Olympics - a competition between sovereign nations every four years.  When national pride - and potentially nuclear war - is at stake, anything can be interesting, like Ping Pong.  

The MLS is the equivalent of a U.S. Gymnastics League, if such a league existed.  Would you really want to watch the Topeka Springers take on the Chattanooga Chalks in a regular season Pommel Horse match?  I didn't think so, but throw in Kim Jong-Il and a sponsorship from South Korean based Samsung, and hot-shit we got ourselves a battle.  I'll go grab the red, white, and blue tights and you get the hand wraps - we wouldn't want to sprain our wrists slamming down the pints.        

  

Hung Like a Papuan

Hey everyone.  Sorry I haven't posted in a while.  Did you miss me?  No, I didn't think so.  I was on vacation.  There's nothing like driving for hours through desolate, lifeless landscape to clear the mind and get the creative juices flowing.  So what inspiration has my desert trekking and soul searching journey led me to? 

Enlarged sex organs, duh . . .    

From where else?  Reuters:

(Reuters) - Forget about getting a job as a police officer in Indonesia's Papua if you have had your penis enlarged. You won't get it, according to local media reports citing the Papua police chief.

An applicant "will be asked whether or not his vital organ has been enlarged," said Papua police chief Bekto Suprapto.  "If he has, he will be considered unfit to join the police or the military."  The ban was applied since the unnatural size causes "hindrance during training."

So apparently we're on the honor system, which invites an intriguing quandry for the police recruits:  confess you've had work done and fail to get the job, or answer no and admit your gun fires small caliber bullets. 

What's an ego-driven man to do?
  
You may contend:  'But Cynicus, just because they haven't had work done, doesn't mean they're automatically swift runners.'

False.  According to this article it's the societal norm for Papuans to gourd themselves:

Papuans use a local technique to achieve the enlargement, according to a sexologist quoted by local newspaper Jakarta Globe, wrapping the penis with leaves from the "gatal-gatal" (itchy) tree so that it swells up "like it has been stung by a bee," the expert said.

Therefore, ipso facto, the pythagorean theorem applies.  If you're a cop in Papua, you're the perfect candidate for the 100M Hurdles - the landing gear is already up and prepped for flight.

So, what kind of classes are needed to become an expert on the itchy-itchy tree anyway?  Maybe the police officers can use this "gatal-gatal" on their hands and feet.  You know, to attract the ladies.

In all seriousness, this ban is perfectly logical.  Countless on-the-job hazards would undoubtedly arise  for these gorged and gourded gentlemen.  Here's a just few counted examples . . .

COUNTDOWN!    
Top 5 On-The-Job Hazards for Law Enforcement Officers Packing More Heat Than A Well-Endowed Habanero Chile:

5.  Their attempt to draw their weapon gets confused with an overt display of machismo when they grab the wrong gun, resulting in an escalation of an already dangerous situation.

4.  The physical inability to move their foot from the gas pedal over to the brake, resulting in the unintentional high speed chase - I like to call this one the Prius Effect.

3.  Confusion on the part of female culprits when they answer door and, after being handcuffed, officer doesn't break out boombox and remove uniform, resulting in psychologically damaging slander.

2.  Pursuit on foot is "hindered" by apparent "three-leg race" technique employed by officer, resulting in scrapes and bruises from officer stopping his fall and perpetrator getting away.      

And the number 1 On-The-Job Hazard . . .

1.  Elementary school Resource Officers are mistaken for sexual predators and are brutally beaten by good parents. 

Melting Ice

This article at People.com draws our attention to some disparaging comments about uber-fab skater Johnny Weir made by some pseudo-French broadcasters:

Last week, broadcasters Claude Mailhot and Alain Goldberg of RDS, a French-language sports channel in Quebec, mused on air if Weir was unfavorably judged during one of his typically flamboyant routines because he wore a semi-see-through pink and black outfit. 

Okay, we have two French-speaking broadcasters, named Claude and Alain, covering men's figure skating.  So far things seem pretty standard.  But then they stray from the program after Johnny comes out with an outfit deemed a little two feminine by these two.

Looks like somebody gave them some bad info on the scoring categories, because they're obviously under the assumption that the judges score the effectiveness of the skater's apparel to, as they say, "pull the wool."

They didn't draw the same conclusion on the other competitors, so apparently, in their opinion, the other skater's costumes were up to heterosexual par.  Yes, because nothing says testosterone like lace, fringe, and sequins - as long as they are dark manly colors and not the least bit see-through.
    
Alain then dropped this golden muse:

. . . Weir's mannerisms might hurt other men competing in the sport. "They'll think all the boys who skate will end up like him," he said. "It sets a bad example." 

Yes, of course.  We wouldn't want any of our future playboys - who just happen to have an affinity for fabulous designs and dignified grace - off put by someone with similar tastes.  God forbid the boys with adequate levels of manliness - as decided by Claude and Alain - are pushed to something undignified like hockey.

The two then go on to suggest Johnny Weir be subject to a gender test.  I think somebody needs to "come out" of the broadcaster's booth.  They're clearly trying to deflect their insecurities about their own sexuality.

Mr. Weir responds:

"It wasn't these two men criticizing my skating, it was them criticizing me as a person, and that was something that really, frankly, pissed me off," Weir told reporters. "Nobody knows me. … I think masculinity is what you believe it to be."

Whoa there Johnny, let's not go overboard.  There is a definition to masculinity and your routine ain't it.  You're still a man, just not a masculine man.  But who cares?  Be your magnificent, 3-time U.S. Champion self and do what you do best.  Show the world what it means to melt the ice.

Gold Medal Celebrations

The Canadian Women's Hockey Team knows how to party.  After winning gold, they treated the frozen pond like the lastest VIP-only NYC novelty nightclub.  The only thing missing was Justin Timberlake.

The International Olympic Committee will investigate the actions of Canadian women's hockey players who celebrated their gold medal victory Thursday night by swigging beer and smoking cigars on the ice in Vancouver.

Gilbert Felli, the IOC's executive director of the Olympic Games, said that drinking in public was "not what we want to see" from athletes at an Olympic venue. The organization will investigate the actions and will speak with the international hockey federation and Canadian Olympic Committee and ask them to "act accordingly."

It's their home ice - let them do what they do.  For all we know they smoke stogies and kick back brewskies after every practice.   

I don't know about you, but I'd like to see this kind of revelling from the other winning athletes.  Imagine how liberating it would be to see equally awesome celebrations from the other competitions.  Scratch that, it's not fair that I ask you to strain yourself on a Friday; therefore, I've come up with another COUNTDOWN!

Top 5 Classic Winter Olympic Gold Medal Celebrations You Wish Happened:

5.  1980 Men's Hockey - The USA Hockey team's infamous gold-medal victory over Finland, which followed the victory over the USSR dubbed the "Miracle on Ice," led to an even more stunning miracle of a celebration.  That's right God's Son Himself made a brief appearance to don the shocked players with their well-earned gold medals and even stayed long enough for the singing of our national anthem.  USA team captain, Mike Eruzione, was quoted post-game as saying, "I can't believe it.  I prayed for Him to be with us, but I never actually thought he'd make it to the rink.  You know, with the traffic and all.  It's a Miracle on Ice." 

4.  2002 Men's Speed Skating - After Apollo Ohno falls, Stephen Bradbury wins Australia's first Winter Olympic gold medal.  Within seconds, a crew of Australian lifeguards sporting speedos assist Bradbury in spreading 12,000 pounds of sand out onto the ice, building and firing up a "Barbie" pit - sponsored by Outback - on which a variety of native fish and steaks are grilled, and tapping into 13 kegs of that elusive gold medal beer - Fosters.  The party ended just in time for the Turino games in '06.

3.  1994 Women's Figure Skating - Defeating Nancy Kerrigan for the gold, Ukrainian Oksana Baiul grabs a bouquet of flowers from an adoring fan and clubs Nancy Kerrigan's good leg.  Although no physical damage was afflicted, the psychological affect on Ms. Kerrigan was undeniable as tears streamed several layers of makeup down her face.  Amongst the tears, she could be seen mouthing "why, why."  Oksana went on to do a traditional Ukrainian Folk Dance for the crowd, gracefully slicing-up Kerrigan's frozen tears.   

2. 1998 Men's Skating - Upon capturing the gold, Brian Boitano (from South Park fame) called the whole Jamaican bobsled team (Cool Runnings, mon) out on the ice to celebrate.  Although the Jamaicans did not medal - hell they didn't even finish - they were well-prepared to celebrate.  That's right, they converted their bobsled into the world's fastest bong.  What did Brian Boitano do?  He took a lung full a la Michael Phelps-style and blew out the ganj smoke in shapes of perfectly-formed hearts. 

And the number 1 Classic Winter Olympic Fictionary Gold Medal Celebration . . .