Tag Archives: exercise

The Wave

the-wave
America cannot consider itself a civilized nation until the scourge of the wave has been eliminated from sporting events. I do not care if you think it is a magical moment of community amongst fans. Any activity that leads to that much beer spilling can never be considered benevolent. No activity that involves unwarranted exercise can be considered joyous. The only possible benefit the wave has is the shaking of female bosoms caused by the rapid standing, but even on this account, the wave is organized all wrong. Everyone is facing the backside of everyone else. Instead of quivering tits, you get ass crack and back sweat. I came to watch sports, not to do rudimentary calisthenics while having my draft spilled to ghastly sights.

And let’s face it, after the opening ceremony of the Beijing Olympics no amount of mass coordinated movement will look cool again. Thanks China. So can we all agree that the wave is now unequivocally lame and desist from making asses of ourselves? If the Chinese want to prove how far they come by having thousands of people memorize basic actions and then perform them with slave-driver oversight type precision, that’s fine with me. They can have that honor. But this is American, the supposed land of cowboys and entrepreneurs – a country of self starting, independent thinkers – and the wave flies in the face of all of this. We are not a country of joiners; we are a nation of doers (and borrowers).

Anyhow, can we all hold off on doing the wave, at least until the Chinese call in our debts and we all have to learn Cantonese and synchronized box-crouching? That is all that I am asking.

Jeff

Swimming

ratner-natatorium

I should but don’t like swimming. I do not care that it is good exercise and easier on the joints. I do not find it fun, nor do I not find it relaxing. It is unnerving and tiring. Swimming is not a sport. It’s avoiding death.

When you fail at running, you fall, scrape your knees, and bleed a little. When you fail at swimming, you sink, have your lungs fill with water, and die. With my tendency to do most activities slightly snockered, I think it’s best that I avoid the pool. Any form of recreation where the downside is accidental death is not for me.

And what is up with all the hoopla that surrounds swimming events at the Olympics? It’s a bunch of men with not enough swimwear on, and a bunch of women with too much swimwear on. On top of the questionable aesthetics, they don’t even go fast. Next time you watch a swim meet, focus on the judges that *walk* alongside the edge of pool. With a measured gait, and in chinos and blue blazers, they match pace with the *fastest* swimmers in the world. What a lame event. D-bags in cruise-ship apparel keep up without breaking stride.

The most absurd of all swimming related activities are the polar bear clubs, where men prove how manly (and by extension hairy) they are by donning Speedos and jumping in freezing water and having their balls shrivel. I’d love to go back in time and explain these events to the passengers on the deck of the Titanic as it slowly sank. I bet they would take real solace in knowing that their soon to be deaths would become a yuppie pastime within the century.

Or maybe I don’t look good in a swimsuit.

Jeff

New Year’s Resolutions

January 2nd

Dear Everyone,

Your New Year’s resolution is dumb. Please stop trying to improve yourself; it is making me nauseous. The problem isn’t that you’re unattractive (well, at least not the main problem), or stupid (though that isn’t helping), or your crippling lack self-confidence (wait, who are you again?). The problem is that you are painfully boring. Remember, it is quite possible to lead a completely upstanding life, and never live a single day.

Wake up early, jog, eat breakfast, floss, say hi, and die. Have a job, wear your seatbelt, wait until marriage, look both ways, call her back when you say you will, and die. Count calories, wash your hands, watch your manners, buy insurance, jazzercise, and die. Smoke, drink, binge, purge, snort, shoot, fuck, speed, fight, shout, spit, and live. Care less, don’t plan, close your eyes while driving, dart across eight lanes of traffic, hit back, sleep for days, don’t sleep for days, forget when you last showered, and live. Of course, the more you live the sooner you die. Oh well.

Anyhow, if you still think self-improvement is a swell idea, don’t rule out self-destruction as the best way to get there. You want a packed funeral, right?

With much love,

Jeff

P.S. If you figure out how to get washboard abs, let me know.