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KNICKS ACHIEVEMENT OF THE DAY:
They lost by fewer than 30 points to Dallas! (28). They had fewer than 25 turnovers (24!) and only 5 of them were 24 second violations. Plus, while their 10 straight losses marks their longest futility streak in 21 years, it is NOT their longest ever! So they've got that going for them. And, let's not forget, 12 different players managed to log at least 5 minutes on the floor and get a brisk aerobic workout--something studies indicate is good for long term cardiovascular heatlh. Finally, and best of all: No players shot a 78 year old man in the face with buckshot, mistaking him for a quail.
PROOF THAT I STILL HAVE A HEART: (A VALENTINE'S DAY HIGH-ESTROGEN MOMENT FOR VEGAS)
I turned on the Olympics at 11:15 p.m., just as this pair of Chinese skaters stepped onto the ice. I figured I'd watch for a few mintues, listen to Dick Buttons flex his exquisistely developed fault finding muscles and call it a night. I was in a semi-detached, semi-ironic state--hoping the experience would occasion some quip-worthy observation for my blog. As the pair skated to the center of the ice, the announcers informed us that they were in contention for a medal and would be attempting something that had never been done before in the olympics: A quadruple twist triple axel half gainer or some such. Less than 30 seconds into their routine, one of the commentators alerted us "Here it comes!" and, on cue, the man lifted the petite woman and tossed her spinning high into the air. Her quickly twisting body traced an elegant arc through space and then with consummate grace -BAM!! --smashed on the ground. There was a huge collective gasp as she spun inertly-and obviously hurt- across the ice and into the boards. The brutal interruption of the gracefully choreographed routine was shocking. The music continued to play as her partner attended to her--the two of them going through a globally broadcast medley of shock, shame, disappointment, pain, and grief. As they made their way to the side of the rink, the young woman was clearly in physical and emotional agony and her partner was trying to console her. By the time they got to the edge of the rink and consulted with their coach and the officials, the music had been turned off and we were all together--announcers, viewers, participants, competitors-- in this excruciatingly awkward Olympic limbo. The injured skater and her stoic partner continued their intimate (and globally broadcast) dialogue and the announcers were speaking compassionately of the heartbreak of their cruelly aborted dream...when suddenly the woman signalled that she wanted to finish the program. As people realized what was happening, a buzz ran through the crowd. I felt the hairs on my arm stand up. When the pair returned to the center of the ice, the murmur of excitement built to a roar The music for their routine began again and they skated loosely...going through the motions until they could resume where they had left off. The pair skated past the scene of the trauma (the soundtrack must have felt to her at that point like the theme from Jaws) and then, magically, instantly, in a single decisive stride, they exited the gravity-bound realm of messy misfortune and returned to the graced space of dance. I have to confess I had chills. And I even had tears in my eyes. The chaos of emotion, resolving itself in this courageous and redemptive act...It was really extraordinary. That they continued on to perform a wonderful program (indeed, she landed a lesser version of the ill-fated move) and emerge with a silver medal was almost beside the point. Seldom if ever have I seen the agony of defeat transformed into the thrill of victory in such an emotionally stirring and immediate manner. It was one of those moments that reclaims the whole triumph of the human spirit business from the province of cliche. "Damn," I thought to myself. " I still have a heart."
BACK TO EARTH:
Wouldn't it be great if the fellow Cheney had accidentally shot in the face while hunting quail was in fact Dan Quayle? Then he couldn't get off with the whole "I mistook him for a quail" defense.
QUESTION OF THE DAY:
A guy I know went into White Castle by himself and ordered about 100 burgers, 100 fries and 100 drinks for a big gathering. The person taking the order asked without irony "Will that be for here or to go?"
WORST VALENTINE'S STORY OF THE DAY: (PART I)
A poor guy I know who had a Valentine's night that felt like it was co-written by Larry David and Brian De Palma. Briefly: He hadn't been getting along too well with his wife lately but when she told him that she'd bought him a present, he scrambled to get something nice for her at the last minute--stopping at Zale's on the way home to buy her a lovely necklace with a three part white gold pendant which had "past", "present" and "future" written on the back. He also bought a red rose for her and pink roses for each of his two young daughters. Anyhow, he had to stay a bit late to work and got home a bit late. He rushed out of his car and entered the house, roses in hand, and a smile on his face. His daughters ran up to him excitedly and he presented them each with a pink rose. Then he turned heroically and handed the red rose to his beloved...only to discover that there was no rose on the rose, merely a stem and some garnish. His wife stared with horror at the headless offering...at which point he remembered the thud he'd felt moments earlier when he'd hit the three roses on the ceiling of his car upon his hasty exit. He ran back out and, after much, searching, located the severed --and now partially crushed--rose. When he returned...well, I've gotta run off..but let's just say that hijinx ensued. To Be Continued....
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Posted on 2/15/2006
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