Saturday, August 16, 2008

Follow the Bouncing Ball, Dept.

Right, so we flick on the televisual apparatus on Monday 'cause we're shakin' with Olympic Fever™. Oh, and there's women's beach volleyball. Kerri Walsh and Misty May. We're told they're major players on the gridiron or in the sandbox or however sports scribes characterize the field of bikini-bound battle. Sure enough, they're kicking some lesser nation-state's ass. Okay. Interesting enough.

We flick on the apparatus on Tuesday and...oh, there's women's beach volleyball again. Misty and Kerri. They're in the middle of some major win streak. They're apparently the '92 Chicago Bulls-meets-the-'45 Château Haut-Brion of volleyball, except with firmer tannins, leaner mouthfeel and zero black people. So, yeah, they're still playing and still winning on the teevee.

Come Wednesday and...hoppla! it's beach volleyball bingo! Now it's a couple of dudes. They're winning too.

Thursday, hey, it's Mistyvision, now with Kerriophonic sound!

Friday, indoor men's volleyball!

Ummm...I don't want to piss in anyone's punchbowl but what the fuck, amigos? I mean, I totally get that U.S. women's beach volleyball combines two of our nation's defining themes, i.e., scantily clad women and crushing sports superiority, but aren't there, like, other, less-Tom-Hanks-evocative events we could be viewing?

For example, whatever happened to the most erotic of all Olympic events: rhythmic gymnastics (and please dial down the astonishingly crap soundtrack on the linked clip and substitute something like Prince's Gett Off)? I mean, can anything top a sport that instantly conjures up the Expert chapters of the Kama Sutra? Short answer: no. Longer answer: move over, chump, you're blocking my view of that lithe, gorgeous woman who can touch the tips of her toes to her chin. From behind.

I mean, mad props to Kerri and Misty (possibly also to Brandi, Kaylee, Shauntay and all the girls down at the Hard Knight's Day Gentlemen's Club) but I have needs, you know? And among them is the need to see something other than beach/indoor/underwater/freefall/transwarp volleyball every time I turn on my furshlugginer television.

But, in our Syllogism of the Day:

i) you can't argue with success and bikinis
ii) Kerri/Misty are undeniably successful, ergo
iii) Olympic Fever™: Go Pound Sand, America!


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