The official column of the Olympics

As most of you know, I hang out with “President” Bush most weekends. Usually, we just rent a T&A flick and finish off a pony keg, but this weekend he insisted on going to the Olympics.

At first I was upset that he had stood me up. But as I watched the opening ceremonies unfold on television, suddenly I wasn’t upset anymore. I was proud. Proud to be an American.

Apparently, in the wake of Sept. 11 the Olympics were made a celebration of all things American. You know, sort of like the Super Bowl, but with more Norwegians. Neither the Taliban nor al Qaeda were able to field teams for this year’s Games, so we figured no one would mind.

A wagon train circled up on the field in a reenactment of that great American journey, the Mormon exodus. In a tribute to Manifest Destiny, the chiefs of five Utah Indian tribes said “Why don’t we have representation at the Olympics?” in their native languages. And during the parade of nations, even the French were waving U.S. flags.

Dubya officially opened the games “on behalf of a proud, determined, and grateful nation.” And to cap it off, the Olympic flame, perhaps the ultimate symbol of global unity, was lit by a bunch of hockey players chanting, “U.S.A., U.S.A., U.S.A.!” I realized that these American games provided the perfect opportunity to introduce to the world my revolutionary new idea for the international anti-terrorist campaign.

So far, we’ve been grossly unable to catch Osama bin Laden, right? Well, remember “Hands Across America?” I would call my operation “Hands Around Afghanistan.” Here’s how it works:

We round up all the cutest little children in the world and have them stand along the entire perimeter of Afghanistan, holding hands and singing songs of peace and harmony. Afghanistan’s border is 5,529 km around, so I figure we’ll need about six million 5-year-olds. Then, we have them all walk toward the center. It’s that simple. Eventually, some of them will run into Osama bin Laden, and all they have to do is give him a big hug. Then we’ve GOT HIM, baby!

Of course, some say that bin Laden has already left Afghanistan, that he successfully evaded U.S. Special Forces by disguising himself as a 6-foot-6-inch Afghan woman. Well, fine, so we’ll expand my plan to “Hands Around the Axis of Evil.” We might need to hire a few more kids to do this right, and we might run out of adorable ones, so we’ll have to make sure to space the ugly children evenly.

Anyway, that’s my plan. And who better to present this plan to the global community than the leader of the free world?

So I called the “President” on his cell phone.

But of course, I couldn’t get through. This always happens. He forgets to turn the damn phone on.

I thought I was out of luck, but then Uncle Sam smiled down at me from heaven. As I was watching the opening ceremony on TV, they showed “President” Bush, and sitting next to him at the stadium in Salt Lake City was Sasha, this hot chick who slipped me her digits last month at a party on Dwight street. Turns out, she’s a figure skater! (Go figure!) I called her up:

Sasha Cohen: Hello?

JP: Hey, baby, how’s it going?

Sasha Cohen: Uh, who is this? I’m kind of busy right now.

JP: It’s the King, baby.

Sasha Cohen: The who?

JP: Baby, let me remind you: the BD house, a bottle of Wild Turkey, a dozen blue carnations from Gourmet…

Sasha Cohen: Uh, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Can I help you?

JP: Yeah, baby, can I talk to the guy sitting next to you?

Sasha Cohen: Uh, the one wearing the stupid beret?

JP: No, the one with the power tie.

Sasha Cohen: Oh. Excuse me, sir, it’s for you.

Dubya: Howdy ho!

I explained my plan to the “President.” He told me that he had suggested the same thing a couple months ago, but the plan was rejected because Condi Rice can’t stand children.

JP: Doesn’t like children! How is that possible?

Dubya: She’s allergic or something. Well, gotta go, partner!

Oh, well. To make a long story short, the opening ceremony concluded without my input. That’s okay. There’s plenty of other things to worry about. Will the United States dominate the medal count? How many people will die in the skeleton event before they ban it again? And most importantly: what the hell is curling? I have a sinking suspicion that it’s shuffleboard on ice. If that’s true, then I have no choice but to believe what a guy said to me at the gym the other day: “Next thing you know, Yahtzee will be an exhibition sport.”

Well, that’s fine with me, as long as the Americans win.



JP Nogues is a senior in Davenport College. Happy Valentine’s Day, Lauren!

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