The musings of a madman...

       At the big-ass age of 45, I have been alive for 11 rounds of the summer Olympics. Two of the games have been held in the United States thus far, 1984 and 1996. I will not pretend to REMEMBER the ‘84 games, but had been about as attentive as one can be to the games since 1988 and on. I can say with absolute certainty that the last-week-concluded games seemed to gather the most interest and discussion of any in history. It could be that NBC/Peacock had round-the-clock coverage of the games, it could be that America’s Uncle Snoop Dogg seemed to have devised a means of being EVERYWHERE in Paris at the same damned time, or it could be the effective building of storylines across sporting disciplines gathering our collective interests.      LA is getting the games back in 2028 and will have big shoes to fill, given the can’t-look-away nature that the Paris games gave us. There is generally about a 2-full-weeks break between the regular Olympiad ...

       Another Thursday morning, another instance of me explaining where the hell I have been for the previous couple of weeks. The short answer, here, is “in Japan.”      The long answer is the one you’re getting though, and it perfectly aligns with the “menagerie of shit that could only happen to me” that you’ve become accustomed to. This all started back in late April with a phone call… Me: “Hello?” Caller: “Hi, this is [redacted] from the USOC, and--…” Me: “United…   States…   Olympic…   Commission?” Caller: “Correct, sir and we’re calling in reference to--…” Me: “And you’re aware that the last time I participated in any organized sport was 80 pounds ago, right?” Caller: “Well we’ve been recently advised of your RECENT prowess, and this is in an event that doesn’t necessarily require athletic acumen.” Me: “This should be good.   Which event?” Caller: “Skeet shooting.” Me: “HA!!! Hahahahahahahaha...