In which I examine crappy local sports journalism on a state-by-state basis, progressing through the states in terms of an alphabetical ordering of the heights of their tallest points. Because I can.
If there was ever a week when 52 52 52 wasn't going to happen, it was probably this one. (Well, other than the four weeks I'm about to spend out of the country, but let's burn that bridge when we get to it.) After all, it's still Independence Weekend (and if that isn't the term, it should be), and I still am under no obligation to do anything other than affirm my love of all things America in the most jingoistic way possible. Which, as far as I'm concerned, involves blowing up Spanish battleships in the name of payback, "Remember the Maine" style. Because that's how I roll.
For after all, as the state motto of Vermont says, "Live free or die!" And if you think of blogging as synonymous with living free and not blogging as much like death, well then...
Ah, I see. I'm being told that "Live free or die" is actually New Hampshire's motto. Honest mistake, that. What's Vermont's? "Freedom and Unity", eh? Well then, if freedom is blogging, and unity is not taking July 4th weekend off, I think you can see how...ah, fuck it.
Point is, we're on Vermont this week, and its stylish Mount Mansfield, clocking in at 4,393 feet. I'd like to think Mount Mansfield was the source of a bunch of really immature jokes by Vermont schoolboys in the 1950s, thanks to the popularity of the truly spectacularly-chested Jayne Mansfield. You know, a lot of stuff about wanting to "mount Mansfield" and other similarly hilarious repartee passed around during hiking excursions. A man can dream. And, because this is still America dammit, a man can supplement the following three facts with pictures of Jayne Mansfield. Because I am, like my last post said, a motherfucking hero.
1. From Wikipedia: "Mount Mansfield is one of the two spots in Vermont where true alpine tundra survives from the ice ages." At the risk of a very, very hackneyed joke that is sure to piss off Djmmm, I think there's a definite chance I may have to revise that joke by 2018. You know, because of global warming. Melting ice, people. Fuck, I probably should have spent more time phrasing that joke and less time apologizing for it. Ah well, no need to apologize for this...
King of the segue, yes sir.
2. Mount Mansfield is the home of the Stowe skiing resort. I'm sure it's a very nice place, but I'm guessing it was at a slightly warmer clime that this photo was snapped...
Not that I'd complain with more ski-appropriate attire. Those fifties gals sure knew how to stretch a sweater. And, by that, I mean they had almost cartoonish busts. Eh, no "almost" about it.
3. Also from Wikipedia: "The mountain has the appearance of a (quite elongated) human face when viewed from the east or west with distinct forehead, nose, lips, chin (the highest point) and an Adam's apple."
I imagine much of that might also be true about Jayne Mansfield, but I haven't quite bothered to check yet. Well, apart from the Adam's apple. Hopefully. Eh, with breasts (or, as us classy folks call them, "gazongas") like that, I won't quibble.
Now that I'm good and horny (which is my preferred writing style, not unlike Oscar Wilde, and we all know how he turned out...wait, he turned out how?), let's talk some Vermont sports journalism. Kenneth Wells of the Newport Daily Express steps up with a piece on a Canadian NASCAR driver. I had vowed to never discuss Canada and NASCAR, but such is the world in which we find ourselves. Also, when the grammar and mechanics are this atrocious, I just can't resist. It's the pedantic dick in me. Mr. Wells?
He’s young, good looking and has that quality personality that fans and friends alike can root for.
"Quality personality"? Not to sound like a stereotypical horny dude in a shitty comedy (too late, I know), but when has that ever not been used as a euphemism? What does this dude have? Genital warts? I'm going to go with genital warts.
For Joliette, Qué. native Patrick Carpentier a big step towards respectability in his chosen profession was taken.
Oh, he's from Quebec. Close enough. To genital warts, I mean.
Man, this is one hell of a dirty post. I guess this is what I get for talking about Canada so soon after the 4th of July. John Adams must be spinning in his XXL grave.
He emerged as the NASCAR Pole sitter in the Lennox Industrial Equipment 301 race this past weekend.
Just to finish off the utterly juvenile trifecta: heh, heh...pole.
The 37 year old turned the mile oval in 29.349 seconds and called it his,"biggest" accomplishment in a career dating back more than a decade. Carpentier said, "Its amazing." There is going to be busloads of people down here, and that’s what the objective is, to grow the fan base of NASCAR here and bring more people in. A lot of people in Canada are starting to be fans.”
Here's a fun game - let's play "Count the grammatical, mechanical, and formatting errors!" in that last mess of text. The game's so fun, it's totally sick! Well, sic, at the very least. This man isn't just the editor of the sports section like last week's Sara Mettlen; he's the fucking publisher of the entire newspaper. For goodness sake, I think I could dig up articles I wrote for my middle school newspaper that are better written than that. And hell, I'm always looking for a new gimmick...
Patrick is smiling, and genuinely appreciative of his feat which could make him the perfect Canadian ambassador for the sport. He continued," I am really happy, and hopefully this will help me stick around for a few years.”
Him winning the pole in a minor NASCAR race makes him the perfect Canadian ambassador for the sport? The sad thing is, I totally buy that.
Patrick Carpentier, who makes his home in Las Vegas now is a likable person and his story is somewhat a Cinderella version.
Seriously...was this originally written in English? I'm perfectly willing to redact this post if this was actually a French language article badly translated but, but...I doubt it, somehow.
Honestly, this is like shooting fish in a barrel. If there was one fish that completely filled the barrel. And the water was frozen. And the gun was glued to the fish. And the gun was set to auto-fire. And even if you missed, it still counted as a successful shooting of fish in a barrel. That's how easy mocking this article is. It's almost beneath me. Thank goodness I'm unbelievably petty.
He is easy to pull, for less than two years ago he came to Loudon during the Sylvania 300 weekend to basically introduce himself to potential sponsors.
He's easy to pull? What, one can, as Wiktionary so eloquently puts it, "persuade [him] to have sex with one"? He really is Quebecois...
It's obvious that Kenneth Wells is forcing his children to write articles for him. Here's the real question though: was it his twelve-year-old or five-year-old? Keep in mind, his twelve-year-old is going through a bit of a geek phase, so you'd think there'd be some random Gundam Wing reference crowbarred in there somewhere. You know, much like I did there. Overall, I'm going with five-year-old on the day he learned to use spell check. Because, atrocious as the usage might be, at least some of the words are spelled correctly.
Carpentier has never finished higher than 23rd, but, if he can ever hang close enough and long enough to capture the checkers, there may well be a new national holiday up north.
If he wins one obscure NASCAR race, Canada will designate a national holiday? Look, I know the Stephen Harper premiership has gotten people down, but let's not take things to completely radical extremes.
See! I even know the name of Canada's prime minister. Admittedly, I thought it was James Harper until I looked it up, but isn't it the effort that counts? So, um...yay America!