Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Eyes from around the globe are on the Pecking extravaganza as the latest chapter in this quadrennial saga is seared into the history books. As the assembled crowd marvels at the high-flying feats of our most shining specimens of athletics, any personage in attendance would have it be that this were the ultimate Olympiad, the games to end all games. I am with you today so it be known that this couldn't be further from the truth. For what is now held in high regard by our sporting companions is but a pale imitation of the unsullied games of yesteryear. With modern tinctures and tonics like EPO and hGH it is possible to be fast and strong, but where may I ask is the finesse, the style, the heart and soul? With little more than some ground ox testicle and elbow grease as training companions in the weeks leading up to the big event, I boldly transported a locomotive from Chicago to St. Louis using only my teeth to mark the opening ceremony of the 1904 Olympic Games in St. Louis. I went on to win three gold medals in the biceps curl, the situp, and the freestyle kettle ball prance. My kettle ball routine was so moving that men of good and low breeding alike were brought together in tears, weeping for weeks at my magnificence. How many men has Michael Phelps brought to tears?