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Olympics Crack UPDATE: Platinum Edition

Been logging all along, through panic, thankfulness, and Wheat Thins.  Oh, and if you'd care to revisit the fifty-seven hours of Tanith Belbin that was the Opening Ceremonies, I've updated it some and added even more horrifying pictures.

Medal Atrocity UPDATE: And in that post, I praised Vancouver's version of the Olympic medals, because let's face it, anything's an improvement over 2006's Joan Collins Memorial Bracelets of Glory. I hereby retract the awesomeness designation.

I've now gotten a side view of these things, and they look like somebody left them on the dashboard of a black minivan for a week and a half in the Sahara.  Canada's Olympic medals:  1% actual metal, 45% plastic, 64% maple syrup.

Zebra On Ice FAIL: Speaking of Tanith and horrifying:  How's fourth place feel, NBC?  Yeah, that's what I thought. The melty chocolate caramel coating on this is, after weeks and weeks of that zebra mane flailing in my face everywhere from ESPN to the monitor in the Wal-Mart register line, she's suddenly vanished from the media landscape.  I mean, it's a total security blackout.  In the space of two days, as Belbin and Agosto finished in fourth place after the compulsory dances and stayed there, NBC went from quarter-screen animated popups that were all "TANITH BELBIN and also, we suppose, this Ben Agosto fellow in eleven minutes!!!!" to "Uhhhhhh.... yeah, some ice dancing.... at some point."  And this with the national champions, Davis and White, who had beaten them head to head, firmly in silver medal position.  All Davis and White got were footage of them skating creepily together at the age of eight and a chat with Bob Costas at two in the morning.

The Airing of The Sequin-Based Grievances: Also from the figure skating realm:  Looks like Aunt Beth is gonna have to smack a beeotch.  The last time this site saw defending Olympic champion Yevgeny Plushenko, he was glaring at his silver medal and throwing a spangled hissy fit as only a male singles figure skater can. And he hasn't. shut. up. since.  Example:  "An Olympic champion who doesn't know how to jump a quad, well, I don't know.... it's not men's figure skating.  It's dancing."

I can see how Plushy is PMSing over this, as he did indeed skate a program which would have won him a gold medal... in 1992.  There was a quad, and then there was this crap.  The swiveling, the arm-flinging, the jumps which practically came with their own Looney Toons soundtrack.  You can't get away with that here in the Era of the Code of Points, and I for one welcome our new grades of performance overlords, because it prevents the likes of Alexei Urmanov winning gold on the basis of a puffy shirt, standing up on his toe picks while waving his knees back and forth, and having a (RUS) after his name.  And now Russia has gone and awarded Plushy  its very own "platinum medal."  Which he has placed on his website in place of his silver medal, because a fake platinum one from a nation whose primary  export is despair  is much better than an actual Olympic one.

Olympic Coverage Quote of the Week: "Here he goes, with his world class pole push!"

Okay, gotta go.  The ladies are skating, Brian Orser is screaming "AVENGE MEEEEEE!!!!!!" Mao Asada just threw a second triple axel, and Scott Hamilton has peed himself.  I must see to his catheter.

serious amplitude at:  mbe@drinktothelasses.com

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Reader Comments (2)

[...] Platinum Edition Share and Enjoy: [...]

Your arithmetic is still awful.

Your writing is still wonderful, but still only the barest shadow of all the wonder that is in you.

And alas, I am still broker than a stopped clock, so my feeble words will have to suffice. But don't be surprised if I scrabble together enough money to purchase another copy of DttL to replace the one I lent, against my better judgment, to my friends with six kids and a cat and still haven't seen since.

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