Start Running, Bob!

Suzanne Blais is loading her gun. Bob, beware. If you want in, e-mail her at [email protected]

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Bob Costas, your hair is not that color! Just trot out and buy yourself a box of "Just for Men" and fix that atrocity right this instant.

The evil little cretin must be stopped. He's making the Olympics almost painful to watch. I can't believe NBC gave him this gig, after his terrible puns and worse-than-my-drunk-Uncle-Larry's jokes nearly ruined the NBA Finals earlier this year. For example, when Rick Fox shot a three-pointer from way outside with two minutes to go, Costas, a.k.a. Mini-Satan, called the play like this - Mini-Satan: "What's Rick Fox doing? Is he crazy? ... And he scores! Yes, sports fans, he's craaaaaaaaaaaazy. CRAZY LIKE A FOX!!!!"

After the preliminary vomiting, I felt the urgent need to hit something. Anyone who has the initiative to create a "Bop Bob" doll will make a fortune, because people will rip the thing open with their bare hands and shred the thing with their teeth in order to take out their aggression on the greatest blight on American sports today. He makes doping seem like a non-issue when he makes comments such as the following, stated during the Sydney opening ceremonies last Friday - Olivia Newton-John, a breast cancer survivor and an Aussie who has clearly left her mark on American pop culture, was invited along with another Australian singing superstar to entertain the $1000-per-ticket crowd. As Newton-John made her way through the gathering of nearly 10,000 athletes, Bob solemnly reflected, "Ahh, Olivia Newton-John. She, much like the Olympics themselves, owes much to Greece." It is perhaps the single most ridiculous phrase ever to come dribbling out of his collagen-injected mouth.

I want to wire his jaw shut for the remainder of the Olympics or force him to relinquish his job to David Letterman's mother. Who could forget her commentary at the Winter Olympics in Norway? Fourteen days of "How cold is it, Mom?" never seemed to get old.

Not that anything short of a blazing inferno on my own sofa could pull me away from the screen. I am an admitted Olympic junkie. ("Please! Just a little more air rifle! Don't take it away ...!") Nothing, save a natural disaster or sale on Ginsu knives, makes me watch this much television. I am actually supporting Stanford athletes. They have become actual humans in my eyes during the United States' quest for gold. I think I've seen too many of those "Oh, Timmy can walk again and can now run a mile while reading to old ladies and saving kittens all at the same time" human interest stories, because my desire to kill any Cardinals that cross my path has recently been quelled.

Bob isn't the only criminal in the Olympic commentary game. Katie Couric, usually lacking obnoxious on-air comments, found it necessary to discuss with Bob, not once but twice, during the Opening Ceremonies the "inferiority complex Australians have" in regards to their status as a nation in the global arena and their early beginnings as a penal colony. Well, I've got news for ya, folks. Georgia started out the same way too, and there was no mention of any "inferiority complex" whatsoever during the Atlanta Games in 1996.

Would Mini-Satan even dare say something like that at home in the U.S. of A?

For instance -

Mini-Satan: "... the inferiority complex felt here in Utah, home of the 2002 Winter Olympics, you know, because they all have six wives and 22 kids ..."

Or what about our nation's perennial punching bag, Alabama?

Mini-Satan: "... the inferiority complex felt by Billy Bob due to the fact that his wife is his sister and his mother is his cousin ..."

I'm pretty sure the Aussies could kick Mini-Satan's ass if they had half a mind to do it, but if I followed Bob Costas' keen anthropological insights on the issue; they probably are too timid due to their supposed "inferiority complex." Besides, don't they have a lot of kangaroos to box against and boomerangs to throw? Do they really have time for Bob Costas anyway, what with the likes of voracious baby-eating dingos loose on the streets of Sydney? I can't wait for the evening when Bob's special guest isn't the newest gold medal winner but Crocodile Dundee himself. And what the hell do the Aussies really have to feel inferior about? They're a bunch of tanned, blond and gorgeous people who can still occasionally kick our relay team's ass in the pool.

There are, however, parts of the Olympics that make me feel guilty for watching. Is one supposed to feel bad for the athletes? Because when I watch the gymnasts, the rabid look in their eyes just makes me want to give the medals away to whichever one can produce the most heartbreakingly pathetic story. "... And then we had to sell Grandma Yetta to pay for Svetlana's vault lessons ..."

I am still having trouble sleeping after hearing that some Chinese gymnasts can only see their parents for two days a year and have lived in dormitories at their training site since the age of four, not to mention some of the so-called "distractions" they have to toil through. For example, men's all-around gold medalist Alexei Nemov who, having never seen his four-month-old son due to his training schedule, "was distracted by the birth of his son but still focused enough to win gold." Hello? Is this a problem for anyone else? To me, that medal is tainted by Nemov's selfishness.

The Olympics remind me of scrambled porn or car accidents - you don't want to watch, but you are inextricably drawn. Good, bad, indifferent, we're all drawn to the screen, even if it was just to see if the kid's wire would snap as she was flying over the opening ceremonies. My only question is this - do I get a gold medal if I bound and gag Bob Costas so we won't have to endure his wrath any longer?


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