But I'm tired of being "informative" and "timely," trying to keep up with the sports columnists at the Seattle Times. I've got to bust out and just be me, man. I didn't get where I am today by doing the same thing over and over and over. I refuse to wallow in the cesspool of mediocrity with other sports writers. As God is my witness, I will luxuriate in the hot tub of ingenuity! So from now on, don't expect more of the same! Expect the kind of cutting edge thinking that brought you the cell phone digital camera.
Olympics? Well I'm pretty sure the Olympics start in August, but you know what? I don't care! I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired of the terrorists who are going to bomb the Olympics.
And who gives a shit if Mike Tyson was knocked out in the first round by a British boxer named Danny Williams? What can you expect from a fat 38-year-old who likes the taste of human ears? What I want to know is what the fuck happened to Mike Tyson's money? He owes his creditors $43 million. The guy was worth $400 million. I know, I know, Don King allegedly swindled a lot of it away from him--big deal. What kind of idiot loses, or spends, $400 million dollars in less than 10 years? I can find you an entire tropical island with two white-sand beaches that only costs around $6 million. What else does a person need besides a cooler and some snacks?
My whole point is that sometimes I think I should quit writing about sports altogether and devote myself to organizing all of Seattle to jump up and down simultaneously. The resulting massive tsunami might make people realize what they can accomplish if they all join together in doing a little exercise. Screw voting! It's about turning off The Love Boat, getting off your soggy Seattle ass, going outside, and jumping up and down.
