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Things in K world have been bad. Perhaps at the nadir. But, things, as always, get better. But for now, I'll be posting infrequently. Once shit blows over, I'll be back, more K than ever.

He Shot The Friend, But He Didn't Shoot No Quail

So Cheney shot his friend in the face and chest, thinking him to be a quail. This shit happens, friends. I once mistook my friend for a walrus. Turns out, he had just grown an unfetching mustache. I still shot him, because, you know.

Is there symbolism in all this? Cheney shooting quails. Quayles, maybe? Dan Qualye was everything Cheney despised, a nitwit VP who was open and unorchestrated about it. And an easy mark like the farm-fed quails Cheney was shooting when he wasn't shooting his boy.

I hope he had a beer afterward and reflected on what happened to his buddy and all. What? He had a beer before hand...man, that dude is prescient.

The Unbearable Nothingness of Turin

In a few days, NBC will try and convince us that the world has a vested stake in ice dancing and those special athletes that can cross-country ski and shoot well...at the same time. The winter Olypmics are an age old tradition that date back to ancient Greece when Apollo challenged Athena to a sledding match on Mount Olypmus and won. Barely. Zeus was too busy shtumping a cow that would later birth Alexander the Great to compete.

Since then, world sporting officials have wisely constructed an elaborate series of sporting events that the vast majority of the world cannot compete in due to natural climate conditions. The winter games are basically a throw away to the sport insecurities of northern Europeans. I find it wholly uninteresting that some Norweigans may be able to go down the side of a mountain on thin flat fiberglass slats better than anyone else in the world. Curling? Since when did feathering hair because a sporting challenge? Am I missing something?

Winter sports are the provenance of the elite. They are also a theater of boredom. Wake me in a couple of weeks.

Abbreviated Super Bowl Pre-Game Analysis

I'll save you the seven hours (ESPN Gameday started coverage at 11AM) of Super Bowl pre-game analysis by summarizing it here:

The game is going to come down to who makes more plays. The team that makes more plays will win. Both teams have playmakers. They both see themselves as underdogs. And that's giving them some inspiration. They probably have butterflies, more as the game time comes nearer. But, big time players make big time plays in big time games. The great ones step it up in these types of games, and before this is over we'll be introduced to some great ones.

The battle is really going to be in the trenches. How the big guys match up. Both sides have some big time players on both sides of the ball. I am Hot Tequila Brown...wait, sorry, I got distracted by some Jamiroquai playing in the background.

Jerome Bettis is from Detroit. And he's nice.

Both coaches are great ones. You know they'll be doing everything to win the game. They're probably holed up in their hotel room going over tape and making adjustments. That's how they got here. Unfortunately, one one coach is going to be able to say he won Super Bowl XL. That's just the way it goes.

The hookers in Windsor are reall professionals. Real pros. (Ok they won't be saying that out loud).

Both teams will be looking for that one big play that will make the difference. It could happen at any time, and when it does, it could change everything. The players will have a full breakfast, waffles, pancakes, chicken. They'll need it. (actual quote).

We end with a query: when it comes to breakfast meats, why does pork seem more right?

My Sweet Love

I have blogged before about my attraction to thin, yet gluttonous women. I read this story about the 100 Sonya Thomas, the "Black Widow," who won a grilled cheese sandwich contest by eating 26 sandwiches in 10 minutes. I was at work at the time and had to wait a few minutes before I could stand up.

T's pretty thin. We had pizza the other night. She only got through three slices. And the damn thing was thin crust. I was really, really disapppointed.

Make It Stop

I was trotting along on the treadmill this morning watching music videos, which this terrible song came on by something called Robin Thicke. Apparently, its the son of "Growing Pains" star Alan Thicke. And its got this terrible song "Wanna Love You Girl."

Both Thicke and the song are remarkable for two reasons. First, the song (singing included) sucks terribly. Second, the guy is not exactly a sex symbol. It is ponderous that he is getting airplay. But he is.

And the song is terrible addictive. In a bad way, like crank. It gets stuck in your head and slowly drives you insane. It made me cry in shame at a stop light on the way home from work today.

I decided that I couldn't suffer this alone. The video was on tonight when T and I were hanging out. She was reading, and it started off as background noise. It snuck up on her. Next thing I knew, she'd ripped her ears off the side of her head and ran headfirst into a wall.

I told her to buck up and shake it off.