The Winter Olympics are back again. As far as I am concerned, if they happened every 20 years, that would be just fine with me. I moved to sunny California six years ago to avoid the ice, snow and frigid weather, so I am delighted to avoid anything that remotely reminds me of what I left behind. If I wanted to see people freezing, I could move to North Dakota or to Minnesota. I don’t have to watch them on TV.
Some of the events are just plain nutso. Tell me if I am wrong. A couple of Olympians slowly clean off a shuffleboard of ice with a dustpan, and they award a medal for that. I think they call this event something like “curling.” I would rather see paint dry. Perhaps they can give a medal for that.
Now if you think I am putting down “curling” or whatever they call it, I want to share with you some of what is written about this so-called sport: “When sweeping, pressure and speed of the brush head are key in slightly increasing the layer of moisture that builds up under the stone.” Are you hearing this? I’m not making this up. You would think this is a description of how to use your new vacuum cleaner, not an Olympic sport.
The description goes on, “One of the basic technical aspects of curling is knowing when to sweep.” I have a sneaking suspicion I once had a similar conversation with my cleaning lady.
CNBC proudly announced it would be presenting 46 hours of coverage, including its curling telecasts. If we really want our enemy combatants down in Guantanamo to spill the beans, I suggest we have them watch 46 hours of curling. That should do the trick. This is the only sport I have ever heard of that makes bowling seem scintillating.
As for me, I am going to wait two more years for the Summer Olympics when I am going to watch athletes exert themselves on hot, humid August days in Tokyo. Men and women will be hitting volleyballs on the beach, rowing and kayaking on the waterways of Japan, shooting arrows, riding horses and absolutely nobody will be shivering and wearing long johns.