Don't Hold Your Breath

I have my Summer Olympics Tivo set for Dara Torres. No pressure. I am gay for Dara. I know she wants me. The Natatorium is an indoor venue isn’t it? All those new billion dollar Chinese sports complexes look like gossamer, erector sets in the hands of young methed architects. I do not want my slightly asthmatic, darling Dara sucking in bad air in her freestyle sprints , or her goggles getting all smogged up. Unless I do it.
Gray skies are gonna clear up. Not really. No matter how many odd/even car use days the Chinese government imposes or how many southern factories they shut down, they cannot do anything about the sandy particulate blowing in from the fourth largest dessert, the Gobi. Get out those old Gobi boots. It is deep.
Put on a happy face. George has left the country to attend the Summer Olympics; it is #29 on his Bucket List. We are told he is attending just as a spectator. How else would he attend? As a competitor? Although who would not want to see someone broadside him in a BMX open field event? Can’t wait to see him high-fiving President Hu Jintao in the stands – “Heckuva job, Hooey.” I am already sick of Bob Costas.
While Barack Obama was on his Olympian tour, and the crowds were going wild because he was not Bush, John McScary hired some old Rovians for his Presidential “Embrace Your Extinction” Tour. Within days the Straight Talk Express became the “I Know You Are, But What Am I?” Digress. They dragged out Paris Hilton, Britney Spears. In addition to accusing Obama of personally running up gas prices and losing the war, they accused Obama of being black and running for president. So far they have stopped short of calling him an uppity Negro who does not know his place. So far.
While the Bread and Circus Product Placement Olympi-ad mercifully distracts some from crashing banks, anthrax cover-ups and sub-penis envy, I am doing last minute lobbying of OOC for larger time clock numbers at the pool for my myopic 41 year old naiad shero. Let the Games begin.