Well it seems like the rumors are true, there are a lot of pretty dumb people out there.  Apparently there has been at least a notable amount of people trying to get to Vancouver BC for the winter Olympics, who end up in Vancouver, WA, USA.  Having lived in Vancouver, WA for most of my life, I’ve had to constantly deal with the ambiguity of my location.  Whenever I’m spinning tales of my homeland, people never know where I’m talking about.  I can’t say Vancouver, because that’s Canada.  I can’t say Washington, because that’s D.C.  I can’t say I live near Portland, OR because….it’s just really hard for people to figure out where that is for some reason. I had a slight feeling before the Olympics started that people would be confused as to where to book their flights and hotels, but it was more of a joke I thought.  Looking back I regret not capitalizing on this influx of crazy, luge loving tourists.

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In a shocking revelation about Lebron James’ past drug use, it appears as though he smoked marijuana repeatedly throughout his junior year of high school.  Never again after that, though.  Especially not when he made millions upon millions of dollars…right.  Is it really surprising that Lebron James smoked (smokes, for people that believe) weed?  Not even the well manicured analysts at ESPN were surprised. 

One on-air personality went on to say, “does it really matter?  It’s kind of like, who cares?”  Indeed, who cares.  Several million respectable Americans smoke weed everyday.  Michael Phelps was revealed as one of these people not so long ago if you do remember.  It was a huge scandle, lost tons of money, people freaked out, and he got his bong taken away.  Why is it that when Michael Phelps smokes pot, its horrible, but if Lebron James smokes pot, its not too shabby.

One could argue the media is telling white kids to not smoke pot by demoralizing their role model, and that they’re telling black kids that it’s alright to smoke pot, as long as you can make a lot of money while doing it.

In a really surprising turn of events (yeah right) the Panama-Mexico soccer match ended in an ugly barrage of lock neck bottle launching.  The fans disposed of their seemingly cheap beer in any way they could think of.  Flexing their few baseball muscles, these futbol fans attempted to throw their bottles and cups of beer overhand all over the arena, avoiding the embarassing underhand technique I tend to use.  Several fans spent the remainder of the day sticky…stickier.  You might wonder who could possibly benefit from such a ghastly display of partially subhuman wastefulness and unsportsmanship-like conduct.  The beer vendors.  The countless beer vendors.

They supply all the fuel for this pure adrenalin filled fiesta.  And they have their strategy down.  Each individual vendor makes a decent amount of money throughout the first 60-70 minutes of the game.  But it’s at this time that all of the fans have a “whoa, awesome.  I’m a little hammered,” moment.  After a bit more consumption, it’s time for them to get rowdy.  Shoving, biting, scratching, uncomfortable male to male kisses, fighting and nervous breakdowns spontaneously breakout in the large crowd of rougly 43,000.    But obviously the favorite activity is beer throwing.  Thus creating a large demand for more beer.  It’s an oddly magical sight to see so many Juans and Pedros running and trampling all over each other.  At an average of $12 a beer and another $1.45 for the use of a bottle opener, vendors stand to make a considerably humongous amount of money.  The math is too daunting a task to figure.   Reminds me of my childhood.

Beer vendors with a healthy cash flow.

If it’s a particularly lucky day in the soccer world, like today, the match ends in a tie.  All the fans then reach the drunk depression.  So sad that there was no prevail on either side, no outcome to justify their wild antics, and feel their only escape is to…buy a little more beer.

Some may say they are taking advantage of the situation, but I say they’re just adding to the game.  Soccer wouldn’t be what it is today without the drunken bafoons causing all sorts of untold structural, physical and probably emotional damage.  It makes the game for me.

Ron Artest is coming to Los Angeles, but it doesn’t seem like the Lakers are the only ones who are looking to pick up some muscle.  Local gangs have expressed some extreme interest in the small forward (who towers over the majority of gangbangers at six foot, eight inches).  The two largest, the Crips and the Bloods, are gaining widespread media attention (right now) over these proposed plans.

Speculation from Artest fans as to why this is happening have ranged from his rumored ties with charities that have the capability to transport large amount of product, to his pleasantly shocking outbursts towards fans and players alike.

One fan has stated, “I’ve seen him bonk four, five….even fiddy grown men on the head in one quarter.  It’s no wonder both the Crips and the Bloods keep on truckin’ towards him.”  It really isn’t a wonder, is it.

The Bloods have issued a statement offering Artest quite the hefty membership benefits including round the clock protection from all the other scary large men in his profession, his vintage Bulls jersey would be the gang mandatory decor, and when needed he has access to a small, yet cozy apartment in a not so good part of town.  Just like home.

The Crips are yet to issue any official statement but there are rumblings.  Oh yes, there are rumblings.  I don’t know what they’re saying or what their strategy is, but I do happen to think they may be a better fit for Artest.  They are both very cultured, taking part in our generations favorite art form, rap.  Also of note, both the Crips and Artest use mass amounts of symbolism in their business.  Poetic as hell.

I just hope that Artest at least continues his magnificent performance on the court and his wonderful sportsmanship in general.

Ron Artest has not acknowledged this subject and has not issued any statement regarding it.  Yet.

Recently Shaquille O’neal, our favorite Irishman, held a press conference to announce his arrival to the Cleveland Cavaliers.  His entrance was to be a grand one, walking through an amazing display of affection from little kids he doesn’t know and can’t understand.  Towards the end of the entrance, Shaq made eye contact with a grown man.  Being mentally thrown by this, Shaq reverted back to his days of catching child predators.  Doing as much as he used to when he was on the force, Shaq gave him a look that could stun any man under seven foot…and then broke his hand.  The grown man has since issued a statement saying he will not press charges if Shaq will record a new rap song for him and urges him to wear his costume from Kazaam while on the bench.