Sarah here . . . the one in Malibu. No, not that one – the one who . . . yeah, that’s the one, but I haven’t tried to pee out of a window since then. Anyway, I have something really important to talk to you about, so I hope you’ll listen, even if I am a total wreck.
See, I fell in love with the sport of gymnastics a few years ago, and I love watching it and talking about it. Huh? Well, no, Raluca and her boyfriend, Constantin, playing bondage games in a motel room isn’t exactly gymnastics, but there’s some relation, right? Don’t you think so, God?
Okay, well, the reason I’m praying is, I don’t watch TV, as you know, so I get all my news and stuff on the Internet. Well, I just found out a few minutes ago that the U.S. women’s gymnastics team won the Team gold medal at the London Olympics. Aside from the fact Romania should have won it, I have no problem with the American girls getting first place.
What I have a serious problem with is, Gabrielle Douglas, of all damn people, advancing to the All-Around, which is TOMORROW! So time is of the essence here, God! We CANNOT let that . . . person win the All-Around gold medal. Or ANY medal! Jesus Christ – how hard is this to see?
Look, I did some research, and here’s what The Washington Post said about her earlier today: “Now she’s aiming for more: another gold in the all-around competition Thursday.” I don’t have to tell you how my heart dropped when I read that, God, because, well, because you’re God, and you know everything. You know more than me on my best day.
Here’s more of what Gabrielle said:
“Man, I feel amazing right now. It just feels amazing to be the 2012 Olympic champion.”
U.S. gymnasts have never been the most eloquent speakers. Shawn Johnson can barely get a word out over her Mr. Ed teeth without confusing everybody listening to her. A-Suk is one of the most illiterate human beings I’ve ever heard talk. But “Gabby,” as Douglas has come to be known, is almost as bad as the 2008 lot.
“Man.” I say that sometimes, like Gabby did above, but I would never say it in an interview. As in: “Man, we shot those honkies and raided they stores during the riot.” Gabby says it “feels amazing” to be the Team champs. That’s okay, but what happens if she becomes the ALL-AROUND-CHAMP? Oh, my God! God, are you listening??? If you are, here is my biggest concern:
Top 10 Changes to USA Gymnastics if Gabriell Douglas Becomes the 2012 Olympics All-Around Gymnastics Champion
10. Fried Chicken at every practice.
9. Watermelon in every gymnast’s locker.
8. Routine drive-by shootings outside the gym.
7. Gibbon monkeys modeling leotards for the new catalog.
6. New jokes like: Gabby and her mother were on a plane. Suddenly, over the intercom, which the pilot doesn’t know is on, the pilot says, “You know, Chuck, I could sure go for a cup of coffee and a blow job.” Hearing this and not wanting the pilot to further embarrass himself, Gabby bolts from her seat and heads to the cockpit to tell the pilot his intercom is on. Gabby’s mom leans out into the aisle and yells, “Gabriella – don’t forget the coffee!”
5. Miller/Gutsu no longer an issue, when it should be until the earth collides with the sun.
4. Sacramone’s knockers no longer an issue, which it should be until she becomes a transsexual and nobody cares anymore.
3. Shawn who?
2. One big opportunity to prove that blacks can do anything whites can do, only not as good.
1. A question that will remain unanswered for the rest of time: We know how old Gabrielle was – but how the hell old was Kim Gwang Suk?
So in the end, God, I only pray that you will make Gabrielle sick or injured or whatever it takes to keep her from accidentally winning the AA at the London Olympics. You know how bad it was last time having Nasty, A-Suk and dimwit Shawn on our team – please don’t let us have a black AA champ – even though I’m not prejudiced – and neither is Aimee. In Jesus holy name, Amen.
I’m done. I’m going to need some time to get back into the swing, so bear with me. Hope you laughed a little. And pray with me that the AA will have a wonderful result.
Still trying . . .
Still trying . . .
I’m sure it was so romantic. Carly Patterson, the gymnast who was HANDED the All-Around gold medal at the Athens Olympics and her lover, Mark Caldwell, were just outside Dallas, and Carly thought they were going to look at a house Mark’s parents were buying.
First off, the article where I read this didn’t say which direction outside Dallas they were, but if it was north, and if they were in Highland Park, then Mark’s parents are seriously fucking rich. I know this because my grandparents live in Highland Park, in a mansion with live-in servants, yard boys, pool boys and several “personal assistants” running around at all hours.
The dizzy couple (Carly and Mark, not my grandparents) drove to a creek-side park, next to a waterfall . . . (this is all from the USAG website, so it might not be exactly accurate) . . . and they got out of the car. They’re in a park, probably deserted at that time of year (Jan. 21 – when it can get pretty cold and ugly in the Dallas area), and Carly lets this guy drive her into the middle of nowhere and get her out of the car.
She’s fortunate the cops didn’t find her body 18 days later in a plastic bag. But fortunately, they’re not married yet, so Mark would have had no reason to kill her.
Lucky the proposal didn’t go awry
Anyway, so they turn around a corner there in the park, and Carly sees rose petals and candles all over the ground along with a sign that said “Will you marry me?” USAG didn’t report what happened next, but I’m sure it was Carly saying, “Mark! How sweet! Some guy did all this to propose to his girl. Who do you think it was? Anybody we know? Where’s that house your parents want to buy? Can we find a bathroom pretty quick, cause those nachos are really zipping through me.”
(Remember, this is a girl who doesn’t know how long a balance beam is or how high it is off the ground, nor does she know the meaning of the word “resurgence.”)
Either way, Carly learned that all the crap in the park was from Mark, and he proposed, and she said yes, and blah blah blah.
The questionable couple’s photo on the USAG site reminds me of Karen and Richard Carpenter. Okay, Mark kind of reminds me of Richard. Carly is far too fat to remind me of Karen. But the Carpenters did tend to look a little goofy, and Mark and Carly definitely look that.
Several of the photos here look like they may have been taken in that park just outside Dallas. Which means, in addition to beforehand throwing rose petals in the dirt, lighting candles and hopefully not burning down the park, and writing an engagement request in language Carly could understand, Mark also arranged for a photographer to be on the scene, so they could capture Carly in all her fat ecstasy.
Ecstasy – no, not the drug, although pretty soon Mark might need some of it himself to keep the bed . . . active, because like Khorkina has been quoted as saying to Carly: “Your gold medal is fake and probably tarnish before you find some guy drunk enough to fuck you.”
Well, Carly found that guy. And according to USAG, they’re going to get married in 2013. Aside from the facts that Carly is as fat as a pig now and she didn’t deserve her gold medal in Athens, I have nothing against her, except for the fact she’s stupid and probably borderline illiterate like Moceanu. My problem is, I have no faith in marriage.
You’ll notice, Khorkina, who is a mother, is not a wife. No, she’s just a mother. She wanted a child, not a husband. Who knows how all that came together, but it shows you yet another difference between Sveta and Carly. Sveta did things HER way, Carly does things GOD’S way.
And when it comes to gymnastics (and marriage), God’s way always ends up in the toilet.
Dom’s came first and looks like Elena Mukhina
Oana pays tribute to her 2004 team with hers
I wrote about Oana Ban’s bobblehead doll in May of last year, right after we killed Osama bin Laden, and I knew from writing that story that Moceanu had a bobblehead of her own, but I guess I spaced it.
Lithi (screen name) reminded me about Moceanu’s doll, so I went over to her website, where she mentions it on her Profile page, in a list of “Recent” Highlights that dates back to 2004.
That list, which spans from January 2004 to June of this year (i.e., three months in the future, which means FUTURE, Dom, not recent), includes a total of 12 highlights. That’s an average of two highlights per year. I have more than two highlights in a given week, especially if I’m in Oceanside, like I am right now.
“The first child”
I love her December 2007 highlight: “Dominique gives birth to the first child, daughter Carmen Noel on Christmas Day.” There’s something wrong with that phrasing, “the first child.” Something grandiose about it, which makes sense, considering it has to do with Dominique.
Imagine you meet some old friends, and throughout the year in which you haven’t seen them, you’ve had a baby. They ask, “So what did you do this year?” and you say, “I gave birth to the first child.”
Okay, what I was getting to before I got sidetracked with the first child was a January 2004 highlight on her list: “Dominique releases a personalized bobblehead doll, a first for the gymnastics world.”
Just so you know, Dominique did not write her website, because aside from a glitch here and there, the English style and usage is pretty good. But she did INSTRUCT the writer on what to write, and the “a first for the gymnastics world” has Dom written all over it.
The problem with Dom’s doll is, it looks like Elena Mukhina, not Dominique. In a figurative sense, however, they did get the head/body proportion about right. Around the base, although she’s in her Atlanta leotard with the gold medal she was at best one-seventh responsible for, we see only her name: Dominique Moceanu.
I can’t find anything online about this doll, but since it’s not plastered all over her website, I’m guessing it’s not selling like hotcakes, because if it was, Dom would have a separate website just for it.
At least Oana’s doll kind of looks like her
Oana’s doll probably isn’t selling, either, but at least Romanian-Gymnastics.com has a little story about it. And at least it looks somewhat like Oana. And at least around the base it says, “Oana Ban, 2004 Olympic Gold Medalist,” which pays tribute to her team, because that’s the only gold medal Oana ever won.
This was a girl who was in hysterical tears of joy when the Romanians were announced as gold-medal winners in the Athens Olympics Team competition. You can watch that here, preceded by Daniela Sofronie, Oana, and Catalina Ponor, the last three on the floor in the final rotation, with one mission: go out there, don’t screw up, and bring home the gold medal where it belongs.
It’s all very exciting, especially since the footage is occasionally cut with shots of the sour Americans, including that Patterson girl, stuck on their bench, trying to figure out where the hell it all went.
Contrast Oana’s joy for winning the biggest medal in Romanian gymnastics (Team, as opposed to All-Around) with Dom on the medal stand in Atlanta. She lined up in the wrong place and acted like a bitch to Shannon when Shannon told her to get her ass down on the end where she belonged.
You can read a narrative of that debacle here. It’s about half-way down in the story.
The photo that Oana’s doll was modeled from was when she was at the 2003 World Championships, where she won a silver Team medal and a silver medal on Beam. Dom’s doll was modeled from when she was on a bed in the Cayman Islands, arms outstretched, but legs still closed. (This was probably just the first night.)
Based on what is said on Romanian-Gymnastics.com, Oana’s doll was released in 2006, i.e., two years after Moceanu’s.
An article about the Elena Mukhina Foundation, which I had never heard of.
Two coaches, same gymnast problem
Can you tell which is which?
Here’s the second installment in this important quiz to test your knowledge of the difference between American gymnastics and Romanian gymnastics. Like before, you’ll read a scenario and then be given two different coach responses to the scenario. (Read part I here.)
Judging just by the responses in A and B, can you tell which is the American coach and which is the Romanian coach?
1. The gymnast has just shown up for practice and announced that she was invited to be on her respective country’s Dancing With The Stars show.
A. Oh, honey, I’m so proud of you! (Hugs.) Now, you better skip practice for the next few weeks so you can concentrate on your dance moves!
B. (Clears throat.) Like I was saying before interruption by this one, who for next three days won’t be engaged in that wonderful act called eating, now we get ready for strength conditioning, so everybody line up . . .
2. The gymnast painfully admits that she suffers from an eating disorder.
A. Okay, first thing is we’ll make sure we get a treatment team including therapists, counselors, psychologists and a psychiatrist. You’re gonna make it, don’t worry about anything. But you have such a nice body already, it’s hard to understand why you would want to starve yourself.
B. Yeah? You still look like fat pig, so you probably want to find a better eating disorder, cause this one’s not working too good.
3. The gymnast walks into the gym, bleeding profusely, with her left arm missing and explains that she got it caught in a branch-shredder.
A. Oh, my God! Hurry, somebody call 911 – get an ambulance before this girl dies!
B. Big concern here is how you’re gonna do bars. Probably do okay on floor, vault and beam with modification, but bars a different story. Thanks for screwing up all the work we put into you for last eight year.
4. The gymnast tells her coach that she’s pregnant.
A. Sweetie, everybody makes mistakes. Let’s drive you home and we’ll talk to your parents and find out the best and most empowering way to deal with this.
B. Okay, you do 100 Korbut Flikcs until you not pregnant no more. If that don’t work, I think we still got a curling iron around here somewhere . . .
5. The gymnast has been having vivid hallucinations about ten men with rifles chasing her. She asks her coach for help.
A. Well, the best thing would be a complete physical workup and possibly a talk with one of our staff psychologists. But before all that, let’s go get some cake!
B. None of them be able to hit you swinging on bars, so go over there and start practice.
6. The gymnast says she’s thinking of retiring.
A. Oh, but you still have so many good years ahead of you!
B. Yeah, one time I think of having sex-change operation, but I got back to my senses.
7. The gymnast announces she’s considering having a sex-change operation.
A. I understand and respect your feelings. But make sure you talk this over with Mom and Dad before you jump into it.
B. Sex-change? To which sex?
8. The gymnast is riding with her team on a plane to a competition. The stewardess learns that the gymnast weighs 68 pounds and says, “Sixty-eight pounds – oh, my God!”
A. And that’s why we want you to bring her a double portion of the halibut steak and mashed potatoes, please.
B. Tell me about it – ever since she has sixteen years old, you can’t keep the fat off her!
9. The gymnast has been working on a difficult beam skill for more than two hours. She has a sprained wrist, a bloody nose, a separated shoulder and one broken rib. Now she is sitting on the mat by the beam, crying. The coach walks over.
A. (Kneels down next to the girl.) I want to tell you something: I have never coached a girl who gave me as much effort as you do and was as committed as you are to perfection. Good job, but now let’s knock off for the day.
B. Well, it’s clear you don’t care about gymnastica.
10. The gymnast somehow manages to tear her leotard, exposing her vagina. She hides herself and bursts into tears of embarrassment.
A. It’s okay, honey – accidents happen. Let’s get you into another leo.
B. What’s the embarrassment? Nobody want it anyway. You probably couldn’t give it away on Strada Ion Campineanu if you included free candy bar!
Marked any “A” answer as Romanian: Somebody put something in your drink.
Marked any “B” answer as American: Somebody better put something in your drink fast.
Marked all “A” answers as American and all “B” answers as Romanian: There’s a job waiting for you in Bucharest!
PS: It’s rare that a Part 2 is better than a Part 1, but that never stops Hollywood.
Advice columnist to the curious, the troubled, and the generally confused.
I wanna lose weight but it’s hard. I got a treadmill but the sound of it reminds me of when I get scared of bats and have to hide in the closet. Every time I go running, people chase me because they think I’m the president of our country, who I look like but not that much. Except for my hair. Well, the president is a guy and I’m a girl, but I still have hair like him. I have to lose weight. I’m thinking of hiring a personal trainer. What do you think?
Bernice, Seattle, Washington
You don’t need personal trainer – you need psychiatrist.
Я беременная 16-летняя девушка и отец ребенка оставил меня. Я живу с родителями, так что все в порядке. Проблема в том, у меня есть, чтобы получить работу, и я не знаю, что делать с моим ребенком. Правильно ли это для меня, чтобы спросить маму смотреть, как мой ребенок, пока я на работе?
Катарина, Москва, Россия
Do I look like a Russian? You ever see me carrying around Russian flag? You ever see me cheating at gymnastica competition other than lying about my age?
My husband is planning to go hunting for wild bears in Siberia. If he does, what if he gets killed? He loves the outdoors, but mainly fishing. I have heard of people dying while trying to kill a bear. Then he tells me he wants to do this dangerous stunt before we have children, I guess so in case something bad does happen to him, he won’t leave behind kids. What can I do to stop him?
JoAnne, Birmingham, England
Let him go – who care if he dies? While he’s gone, find a man to get you pregnant and when he get back, tell him it is his sperm that do it.
PS: If he go at Siberia and meet that person in last letter, have him tell that person to learn Romanian like a normal person!
I am writing you from New Delhi, India. I have to make payments each month on my rickshaw, plus I pay for parents to live in decent apartment. The problem is, I have no job now and can’t find one. What should I do?
Rakesh, New Delhi, India
Do they shut down all the tech support call centers, or what?
u may have heard of me. my name is Shawn Johnson and im an american gymnast. theirs this guy that likes me and hes gr8 and everything but i cant focus on traning because hes alwyays on my thoughts and brain and all that. how can i still train and have a bf?
Shawn Johnson, West Des Moines, Iowa
How the hell do you get on this site? Remind me of when one time in Campuri father leave door wide open at night and skunk wander in and die behind stove, and for five days nobody know exactly what happen but we sure smell it!
My wife is a bitch. All she does is yell at our 10-year-old daughter and nitpick me to death about everything.. We never talk anymore. We only have sex when she wants it. I feel like my whole world is falling apart, and I’m considering divorce. Please help me!
Worried, Boston, Massachusetts
Maybe if you grow a set, things gonna get better. Write me back after testosterone is at normal levels.
I am going to marry the man I have always dreamed about in June. The thing is, he likes dressing in women’s clothes. Am I making a mistake?
Confused, Toronto, Canada
Find out how many of his clothes fit you. Also, do you dream about him on other months, or just June?
Want to write to Gina with your deepest, most difficult problems? Send all mail to:
Laughingstock Snail Farm
1522 Ceausescu Way
Deva, Romania, 330005
The 1987 Euros remind me of something important:
It IS humanely possible to do a creative, non-robotic floor exercise
One of the neat things about the Romanian gymnastics team through the years is, their #6 (or#7) girl, on any other team aside from the Russians and in some quads the Americans and Chinese, would be the superstar, the one the nation relied upon to lead them to victory.
I don’t know what seed-number Camelia Voinea was in 1987, but it wasn’t right at the top, because of Dobre and Silivas. But I do know that when I watched her floor exercise at that year’s European Championships a little while ago, I remembered how floor exercises USED to be performed before gymnastics turned into a bunch of little Popeyes running around in shiny, seal-skin, porn-worthy leotards.
I tried to find a decent single-routine video of Camelia on floor at those Euros, and because I wanted it, I couldn’t find it. So if you want to see her on floor there, you need to go here, which is one of several parts of the competition, with Camelia’s FX starting at 5:43.
But I did find a single-routine video of Camelia on floor – from the 1987 Tokyo International. By Seoul, they had changed her music and choreography from the Egyptian theme she performed in 1987. This theme suited her perfectly.
These are just two routines from one of the many talented girls the Romanian system has brought up since Nadia Comaneci. But in all those girls, you can see something that you didn’t see too much of back then (from countries like America, I mean) and see even less of today (especially from countries like America): Absolute commitment, drive, the willingness to sacrifice and the ability to take personal responsibility.
Definitions for those who need them
For all of you Shawn and Nasty fans, I’ll define each word above from the Oxford Desk Dictionary, so you can keep up with the rest of us.
Commitment: Obligation that restricts freedom of action.
But that might be too complicated, so I’ll put it in a way that makes sense to you:
like, say, ur mom says u can’t ride ur bike cuz she caughted u with ur bf’s finger way up u. so now ur on restrickshen and don’t got no freedom of action.
Drive: An urge in some direction, esp. forcibly.
Yet again, I need to put it in your English, rather than the Oxford Dictionary’s:
kay, lol, so now ur off restrickshen n ur bf is doin shit to hisself on webcam n ur gettin all hot and stuff. u got an urge to go in some direckshen but u cant find ur electrick tooth brush so u use ur moms neck pillow instead.
Sacrifice: Voluntary giving up of something valued.
In other words:
ur at this frat party and sum black dude give u roofies to knock u out so he can hit it wit u. this is not val . . . vul . . . whutevr that word is. but if u give it up to ur bf cause he threats to fuck ashley then its that word means unles u get knocked up, and its still that word but ur knock up so who cares. ROFLMAO1
(Sarah says: Avoid teenage sex altogether until you learn how to spell.)
Responsibility: Accountability; liability.
account . . . ability is like a class u take in collage or sumptin so u can b an acc . . . an acont . . . 1 of those ppl that like does shit w/ numbers. Lei . . . lai . . . that one that starts with l, that’s when u hit it wit your bffs bf n lie about it.
So much for that . . .
Okay, back to the real world. (I should have made this dictionary stuff a story by itself!) Like all her colleagues, Camelia Voinea, unlike her American counterparts, was far more interested in the success of the team than her own success. True – her own success is what would contribute to the team’s success, but she was not out there trying to win accolades or endorsement deals.
Not to say there’s anything wrong with earning $200,000 as a competitive gymnast and $18 million in the four years after you retire. I’m just saying that gymnastics, particularly in Russia and Romania, has a very deep and difficult history, and it really came onto the world’s stage at a time when national pride was all that was at stake.
To be rewarded for years of hard work by being named to the national team – wow, that was as good as it got! You then began even more years of hard work with a single goal: give your very best on every routine for your county, your coach, your team and yourself, in that order.
And don’t worry about a fucking Wheaties box or dancing with the goddamn stars.
Camelia’s competitive stats and bio (plus an outstanding photo of her butt, which I lifted and used above)
And I just found out as I was looking for links: TODAY, MARCH 1, IS CAMELIA’S BIRTHDAY! She’s 42.
It involves Aurelia Dobre’s breasts . . .
. . . and a whole bunch of naked 13-year-olds. Read on. You’ll be glad you did.
I’ve caught some flack recently from the Christian Right for posting photos of naked gymnasts on this website, not the least of which is Aurelia Dobre. Okay, maybe “Christian Extremists” might be a better description of my detractors.
Since I try to be as moral as possible in my life, even though I realize that God doesn’t love me nearly as much as he loves those brainwashed worthies who have prayed a ritual prayer to get saved, I gave the flack some serious thought.
After about four seconds of thought, I remembered that sinners like me aren’t the only ones who do bad things. A group that also was prone to curious shenanigans was known as the Puritans. Anybody remember them? No, of course not. The Church would like to sweep that black poison under the rug and leave it there along with the coagulating semen shot by priests into the asses of little boys.
Yes, the good old Puritans were the voice of God in America for many years. Here I want to focus on just two of those years: 1692 and 1693.
In the early 1600s, following religious conflicts with other false religions, the Puritans – a Calvinist-influenced [i.e., fucked-up] band of religious psychotics – migrated to New England and set up several colonies.
“Self-governance came naturally to [the Puritans], since building a society based on their religious beliefs was one of their goal[s]. Colonial leaders were elected by the freemen of the colony, who were those individuals who had had their religious experiences formally examined, and had been admitted to one of the colony’s Puritan congregations. The colonial leadership were prominent members of their congregations, and regularly consulted with the local ministers on issues facing the colony. [Emphasis mine.]
Well, you don’t have to be a fucking genius to see that that was going to lead to problems.
“In the small Salem Village as in the colony at large,” says Wikipedia, “all of life was governed by the precepts of the Church, which was Calvinist in the extreme.” [Emphasis mine.]
Rules in the colony included no music, no dancing, no holiday celebrations, no toys, no dolls, no day off, no rest, no food you like, no vacation, do bars, do beam . . . ooops, the last few were from the regime Olga Korbut lived under, not the citizens of colonial Massachusetts. Sorry.
Anyway, children in school in the colony learned only biblical doctrine, and all villagers were expected to attend three-hour sermons twice a week at the meeting house.
I’m going to skip a lot of details, because I don’t want to write something equal to a doctoral dissertation on the subject (and I’m sure you don’t want to read one). But suffice to say, you can see how the stage was set for the most inhumane act the satanic Christian church has ever pulled off and gotten away with: the Salem Witch Trials.
Witches, witches, everywhere!
In very brief capsulation: leading up to 1692, the fucking Christians believed that a lot of young teenage girls were acting weird, so they decided the girls were witches and tried and executed them. Please read the Wikipedia link above for full details.
This shows you that not only were the Christians vicious fucking child-killers, but they were also complete fucking idiots. (Christians today are also idiots, only few if any are child-killers, FYI.)
Yeah, whoever heard of a 13-year-old girl acting weird. Fucking unheard-of. Look at “Carrie White” in the Stephen King novel and movie Carrie. She had a religious psychotic for a mother, then she (Carrie) got her period, and the next thing you know, she set fire to the gymnasium and burnt all the students and teachers to a crisp. (John Travolta she blew up in a car.)
The village of Salem and several others (see Wikipedia) were caught up in a fit of religious psychotic hysteria, and panic spread, and more God-fearing Christians joined the lines of the enemy, and in the end, the poor girls never had a chance. By one method or another, many were executed.
“The episode [the witch trials] is one of the most famous cases of mass hysteria [on the part of the accusers, not the alleged witches],” says Wikipedia, “and has been used in political rhetoric and popular literature as a vivid cautionary tale about the dangers of isolationism, religious extremism, false accusations, lapses in due process, and local governmental intrusion on individual liberties.” [Emphasis mine.]
Fire from the depths of religious hell
Now, the Wikipedia article I’m citing from, interestingly, makes no mention of burning witches at the stake, but an article on Comcast.net does.
It leads with: “Burning at the stake was popular in Catholic and Protestant lands [i.e., America].”
Meaning, Catholics and Protestants believed burning people alive for their “sins” was a good idea.
The article notes three methods of burning someone at the stake, the second of which interests us:
“In the second method (popular in punishing witches), the prisoner again hung from a stake, but this time the wood was piled high around the victim so the observers could not see her pain and suffering as she burned.” [Parenthesis are in the original; emphasis is mine.]
Please take a moment to imagine being 13, being tried unfairly and convicted unfairly and then being tied to a stake and the wood below you being ignited as your wailing parents and brothers and sisters watch helplessly.
This is what the motherfucking Puritan Christians imagined and made happen!
So here’s my question, finally
And since I know you all came up with the right answer to that question, here’s something to keep in mind: the Christians you see loose on the street today are DIRECT SPIRITUAL DECENDANTS of the witch-burning, cocksucking Puritans. They may look a little different and they may act a little more hypocritically decent, but the same root of blackness resides.
So to coin a phrase: Put that in your pipe and smoke it.
Only think twice before lighting it.
And leave me alone about Aurelia.
Donetsk, Ukraine, Aug. 15, 1978
I wanted to re-post this story because I put it up back in May and NOBODY has made a comment on it. There are a lot of new readers here, so here it is, in case you missed it. I thought it was pretty damn funny.
It’s just past midnight, on a warm, overcast night. Kosma Podkopayeva and his wife, Lyudmilla, and Lyudmilla’s mother are anxiously awaiting the birth of Lyudmilla and Kosma’s second child. The three are sitting in the single room of the house Kosma bought before he was laid off from the steel plant. He now spends his days drinking vodka and dreading another child.
GRANDMA: (Gets off the couch.) Lyudmilla?
LYUDMILLA: Yes, Mama?
GRANDMA: Do you want that I should put more log on the fire? Are you cold still?
LYUDMILLA: Still a little cold. Baby is really kicking.
KOSMA: (From his spot, prone on the couch.) Let it kick! (Drinks from a bottle of vodka.) Let it kick till it kicks a hole in your stomach, stupid woman!
GRANDMA: Kosma – you want me to shove this fireplace iron up your ass?
KOSMA: Ha! Like to see you do it, old woman.
(Grandma puts another log in the fireplace.)
LYUDMILLA: Oooh, I feel it kick again! I will give her the middle name of Alexandrivna, after Cousin Alexandrivna.
KOSMA: Yeah, cause Cousin Alexandrivna kick like a mule. Wait – no, she look like a mule. Got it mix up.
GRANDMA: (Turns to Kosma with the fireplace shovel in her hand.) You don’t mind how she look when you do sex with her, неблагодарное неверных!
KOSMA: Look who calls me ungrateful!
LYUDMILLA: Shut up. Just lay there and drink. I thought you were going to hook up the ox cart.
KOSMA: (Swigs vodka.) Too hot.
LYUDMILLA: Is the middle of the night. How can it be too hot?
(Grandma goes to the stove and stirs a smoking kettle of borscht.)
GRANDMA: Too hot when you’re too lazy to work!
KOSMA: Hey, you two, get off my ass. Is Saturday night.
GRANDMA: Is Tuesday, глупый дурак!
LYUDMILLA: Kosma – baby is getting ready to come, and the ox cart ain’t even hooked up, and grandma got a bad back, so she can’t go out and hook it up.
(Thunder rolls across the sky.)
LYUDMILLA: Wow! Listen to that thunder!
KOSMA: You okay, Grandma?
GRANDMA: Sure, I’m okay. I’m just stirring the borscht.
KOSMA: Oh – I thought you crap your pants. Maybe it was thunder, like Lyudmilla says.
LYUDMILLA: Kosma, you ought to keep your mouth shut!
(Kosma starts laughing, and laughs so hard he falls off the couch.)
GRANDMA: (Turns to Kosma with the soup ladle in her hand.) I only hope none of your uncivilize genes go into baby Lilia, бесполезно бродяга!
KOSMA: Hey, old woman, this is my house!
GRANDMA: (Becoming dramatic.) And what a house it is! Look – there’s one whole room! Over there is fireplace and living room. Here is kitchen. Oh – dining room is right where you lay like a drunken dog! Bedroom on that side, bathroom on outside. How does my daughter get so lucky to have such a man as you to give her all this?
(Kosma, still on the floor, drinks from his bottle.)
LYUDMILLA: Ah-oh – the baby kick again. Hard one!
KOSMA: I tell you to abort it, but no, you don’t listen.
GRANDMA: (To Kosma.) You shouldda died when you were born.
KOSMA: Can’t! Devil keep me around long enough to marry your daughter and have to live with you. Where is the child we did want? (Yelling.) Mikhail! Mikhail!
GRANDMA: Shut up, idiot! Mikhail trying to sleep. (Dramatically sweeps her hand to the far side of the room, where a crib sits.) See – he’s in the nursery!
(Rain begins to fall, drumming against the tin roof.)
LYUDMILLA: Oh no – now the rain! Kosma, you better go hook up the ox cart, because this baby not waiting much longer.
KOSMA: Is raining, woman!
LYUDMILLA: (Screaming.) Baby don’t care if it’s raining! You think you gonna stop a baby with a little rain?
KOSMA: (Gets up off the floor.) We stop it if we use Grandma soup ladle to scrape it out of you!
GRANDMA: I’m gonna shove this soup ladle up your ass!
(Little Mikhail starts crying.)
GRANDMA: You happy now? Huh?
KOSMA: (Covers his eyes, then uncovers them and looks at Grandma.) No. You’re still here.
GRANDMA: Глупый муж вырожденных!
(Lyudmilla struggles out of her chair and goes to check on Mikhail.)
KOSMA: Anybody know what time it is?
GRANDMA: Yeah – time for you to hook up the ox cart so we can go to clinic!
KOSMA: Somebody need to hook you up to the ox cart and drive it off a cliff!
(Lyudmilla screams and falls to her knees. Grandma rushes to her.)
GRANDMA: Lyudmilla! Is it the baby?
LYUDMILLA: I think it is. And we can’t get to the clinic because Kosma don’t hook up the ox cart.
KOSMA: Ride one of the ox! Maybe it shake baby out of you and trample it to death on the dirt!
GRANDMA: Go out there, you drunk ублюдок, and hook up the cart!
KOSMA: (Staggers toward the door and looks through the curtain.) Raining like hell out there!
GRANDMA: You gonna deliver this baby right in this house?
KOSMA: What do I look like to you, old woman?
GRANDMA: A drunk bastard who need a bath. You gonna deliver this baby right in this house? If not, you better hook up ox cart.
LYUDMILLA: Mama! I can feel it. Is coming now!
KOSMA: I go hook up the ox cart. (He puts on a hat and stumbles outside.)
(Grandma helps Lyudmilla to the bed and lays her down.)
GRANDMA: Now, there’s nothing to worry about. That baby got blessed by the priest, so she’s gonna be okay no matter where she appear at.
LYUDMILLA: (Grasps her mother’s hand.) If I die in childbirth–
GRANDMA: Ssssh, you’re not dying in childbirth.
LYUDMILLA: But if I do, promise you’ll raise little Lilia.
GRANDMA: Lilia Alexandrivna. I would raise her like my own, and that ленивый неблагодарный you marry ain’t gonna have nothing to do with it.
(Lyudmilla pulls up her dress and opens her legs.)
GRANDMA: (Peers between Lyudmilla’s legs.) Ah-oh. (She runs to the door and slings it open. It is raining heavily outside.) Kosma! You got that cart hooked up yet?
KOSMA: Can’t find the ox!
GRANDMA: Ox in the barn! Where you think he is? You think he coming back from town waltzing down the road after date with sweetheart? Глупый идиот! Lyudmilla about to have a baby, so move like a man for the first time in your life! (She slams the door and runs back to the bed.)
LYUDMILLA: What’s he doing, Mama?
GRANDMA: (Taking off her sweater.) Oh, he’s standing out there in the rain like a drunk trying to find an ox.
LYUDMILLA: But ox is in the barn.
GRANDMA: I know that, and you know that, and the ox know that, but Kosma don’t know his ass from the hole in the ground.
LYUDMILLA: (Grasps her mother’s hand again.) The pain is bad.
GRANDMA: You think it’s close?
LYUDMILLA: I don’t think we’re gonna make it to the clinic. Tell me a story about baby Lilia to take mind off the pain.
GRANDMA: Okay. (She sits beside the bed and lights a candle.) Baby Lilia gonna be the most beautiful and best-behave baby in all the world. Kings and princes will smile down on her. Queens and princesses will be jealous of her. Then we gonna put her in gymnastik, and she gonna be the greatest champion Ukraine ever saw.
LYUDMILLA: Gonna be better than Tourischeva?
GRANDMA: Ha! (Smashes a cockroach with a magazine.) She gonna be better than Tourischeva, Korbut, Kim, all of them. And one day, she go to the Olympics. (Grandma puts a hand on her forehead.) I can see it now.
LYUDMILLA: Mama – are you having one of your premonitions?
GRANDMA: Yes, like when I premonit you should no marry Kosma.
LYUDMILLA: I’m sorry about that, Mama. But tell me about the Olympics. The baby is moving down, she not gonna wait much longer.
GRANDMA: Okay. At Olympics, baby Lilia gonna be best one there. But she have to work hard, cause competition is tough. I see Romanians – three of them – riding behind her in victory. But she will overcome for Ukraine.
LYUDMILLA: What about Americans?
GRANDMA: They fat and lazy, like Kosma.
LYUDMILLA: No, I mean at the Olympics.
GRANDMA: (Puts her hand on her forehead again.) Americans some threat, but only one that can challenge our Lilia. She is small and black-haired and very cute. Doesn’t really look like American.
LYUDMILLA: Maybe she is Romanian!
GRANDMA: I think maybe she is, but she compete for America. She is cute, but evil, and she has Дьявол on her side!
LYUDMILLA: Mama! The devil?
GRANDMA: But Lilia beat her, too, and devil, too. She is standing on medal stand, and . . . looks like she is crying.
LYUDMILLA: Wonder what she crying over. Maybe cause she feel sorry for those who lost.
GRANDMA: No, I think it’s cause she finally realize who her father is.
LYUDMILLA: (Grips her mother’s hand hard.) Is coming! Baby is coming! Lilia coming to get her gold medal!
(Grandma positions herself on the bed between Lyudmilla’s legs and watches the baby’s head appear. She gently helps the baby out as Lyudmilla pants and pushes.)
GRANDMA: Is a beautiful baby unlike any ever seen so far! Except you, but you had colic and I never get no peace for three month.
LYUDMILLA: Let me see, let me see!
(Grandma cuts the umbilical cord, spanks the baby to make her cry, wipes her off, and places her in her mother’s arms.)
LYUDMILLA: Oh, she’s so lovely. Sure has some lungs on her!
GRANDMA: Yeah, but no breast.
LYUDMILLA: Probably won’t get none of those till after she win her gold medal.
GRANDMA: Yeah probably.
(Kosma stomps into the house, shaking water off his clothes.)
KOSMA: Hope you’re happy! Got the ox cart all hooked up, and now I probably gonna catch pneumonia with the rain.
GRANDMA: We can’t be that lucky! But is too late, cause Lyudmilla just give birth to baby Lilia. You want to come see?
(Kosma passes out and falls on the floor.)
GRANDMA: Idiot. Дурак собираетесь пить себя до смерти один день! Maybe you can divorce him and turn him over to the prostitutes. Take him for everything he got, even though he don’t got nothing.
LYUDMILLA: I can do it. And I teach Lilia to do same thing if she ever marry a no-good задница.
GRANDMA: You’re a good daughter, Lyudmilla.
LYUDMILLA: But I don’t care about Kosma right now. Just little baby Lilia. Let’s count her fingers and toes to make sure she got all of them!
GRANDMA: Okay – you do fingers, I do toes.
(The women count.)
LYUDMILLA: She got all ten fingers.
GRANDMA: She got all ten toes, too. Plus she got her ankles all stretched out so toes point like ballerina.
LYUDMILLA: Maybe she be ballerina and gymnast.
GRANDMA: (Leans over to hug Lyudmilla and Lilia.) I make sure she gonna be both. Only hope I can live to see her at Olympics with gold medal.
LYUDMILLA: You will, Mama. If God is willing, you will.
GRANDMA: Yes, if God is willing, I will.
She’s up in Cleveland, embarrassing herself again – what else?
Plus: What to do about yeast infections
One thing you can say about Dominique Moceanu is, there’s no predicting what she’ll do next. The only thing you can predict is that it’ll probably have very little to do with the sport that gave her a name that allowed her to be unpredictable in the first place.
As most of you know, Marta Karolyi hit Dom in the head with a phone, then Dom found better coaches and her career fizzled, then she moved up to Cleveland and married a doctor named Mike. (She lost her virginity in the Cayman Islands before moving to Cleveland, FYI.)
Based on all of her blatant self-promotion on her numerous online homes, it’s difficult to say what Dominique is trying to accomplish with herself. She and Mike did that silly Lady Gaga video in March 2010, which basically was soft-core porn, which is fine with me, because what else is somebody like Dominique, a woman pushing 30 with two babies, going to do?
The queen of gymnastics
If you listen to Dom, she single-handedly re-directed the course of gymnastics by winning a team gold medal in Atlanta. She got fame and fortune by being the smallest, cutest, most pedophile-inciting member of the 1996 U.S. gymnastics team.
But the world became too big for such a little girl. Not long after Atlanta, even though Dom didn’t realize it, the world forgot about her and turned its attention to Vanessa Atler trying to hang on to the bars and Shannon Miller’s vain attempts to recapture the glory she had and deserved when she was a 68-pound rubber band in Barcelona.
That’s when Dom flew to the Cayman Islands to give up the only thing she had left. After that, it was downhill pretty fast.
Then she got the bright idea to get married and move to a little pond, where she had a chance to become the Big Fish. I don’t know if the marriage happened first or the move, but either way, she’s up in Cleveland now and it appears she’s trying to take over.
That was a very wordy introduction to get to the point here, which is three videos. Bri (screen name) sent me the first, and Deluxe (screen name) sent me the second and third. Let’s watch all the videos, and I’ll try to find something intelligent to say about them.
Dining in Cleveland
Dominique and Mike walk into a restaurant complaining of starvation. Dominique looks about as close to starvation as a brontosaurs. They’re a damn odd couple, Dom and Mike, but there’s something quirky about them that I like in spite of my better judgment.
I think what I like is their goofiness. Any couple who would do something like this has got a lot of guts. Plus as fat as Moceanu is, you’d think the LAST thing she’d want to do is portray herself being a pig at a dinner table.
Look at all the damn food those two are supposedly going to eat! And look at Mike tear into that disgusting whatever-it-is sandwich. I have to admit, I had a sexual thought when he did that, and I have to admit when he pulled that whatever-it-is sandwich away from his mouth and he had that big smear of white stuff on his face, well, it wasn’t pleasant on this end. So I went and talked to my mom about it.
ME: I want you to tell me the truth about something. What is Monistat 7 used for?
MOM: Monistat 7?
MOM: It’s for a yeast infection.
ME: Okay. So is it possible . . . like, does a yeast infection leave a white residue? Like a discharge or something?
MOM: Do you have a yeast infection?
ME: Oh, my God!
MOM: Sarah, what the hell are you talking about?
ME: I’m writing a story about Dominique Moceanu and her husband, Mike, and they’re at this restaurant and he bit into this big disgusting sandwich and he got something white all over his mouth.
(Mom just stares at me.)
ME: I just wanted to know if you can get white stuff all over your mouth from a yeast infection.
(Mom still just stares at me, because I’m 19 now and should know better.)
ME: Fine. I just asked a question. (Walking back to my room.) Whatever you make me to eat tonight, I don’t want any mayonnaise on it!
Then after Dom says another memorized line, we see Mike shoveling food into his mouth like it’s his last meal. At home he probably has to eat quick before it disappears. Interestingly, the only thing we SEE Dom eating is a damn french fry. Maybe she’s seen the tale of the tape and is finally on a much-needed diet.
PRODUCER: Mike’s going to eat everything in sight, Dominique. You need to do the same.
DOM: But I’m already fat with knockers that didn’t go down that much after the second baby!
PRODUCER: You can’t eat just a french fry! This is a commercial to make people want to go out to eat in Cleveland.
DOM: I’m not eating all that shit! I have a reputation as a world-class former gymnast to maintain!
PRODUCER: Gymnast? I thought you were that girl on Full House.
Shopping in Cleveland
The inappropriate song “Pretty Woman” opens this next little ditty, where Dom and Mike are trying to induce people to go shopping in Cleveland. Only this time, they’re doing some more role-playing, like they did in their soft-core-porn Lady Gaga video.
Mike is pretending to be a suave salesperson in a clothing store, and Dom is pretending she’s a normal person. She’s got on a SHORT sparkly silver mini-skirt and fuck-me heels, and with her oversized knockers and tree-trunk thighs, she looks like a man in drag.
Well, Dom prances around like she’s 18, even though she looks 38, and salesperson Mike brings her all this stuff to try on. I sooooooo wish they would have shot some footage of him helping her into the clothes in the dressing room, because you know how that went down.
MIKE: (Grunting and struggling to pull a normal-size blouse down over Dom’s head and knockers.) Try to suck in a little more, honey.
DOM: (Nearly suffocating.) I’m trying, but this is as far as I can suck.
DOM: What happened?
MIKE: I think I pulled a muscle. Maybe if you . . .
DOM: Goddamnit, Mike, I can’t fucking breathe!
MIKE: Stop yelling – everybody can hear you out there!
DOM: (Screaming.) I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe!
MIKE: (Pulls the blouse off of Dom.) I guess there’s no point in trying to get you into those pants, either.
DOM: (Looks at a size 8 pair of jeans.) No, we probably ought to stick with the loose stuff.
MIKE: Yeah, that’s what we’ve been doing for years. Or at least what I’ve been doing for years.
DOM: You wanted those babies – don’t fucking start.
I love the part where Dom (in the role of a sexual dominant) is walking left to right across the stage, and Mike is running after her with a dress. Then another Dom pops up and pretends to be a lioness, scratching at the air and making a little sexy growling sound.
Next thing you know, here’s Mike, looking like a goddamn Wheel of Fortune contestant, and he holds up a sign that says “9.8.”
No matter how much sexual innuendo they put into this thing, I’m pretty sure that “9.8” refers to a score, not a size. (Although if it was a size, it would explain a lot of things.)
A little more flirting and prancing, and now Mike has grown – I mean the score has grown to “9.9.” Then he gives her a “I Love 216” T-shirt, and he tops out at “10.”
I said the numbers are scores, but with the way these two feed their personal sex life into so much of their material, there’s no way to know for sure.
The toughest gymnast
This time, Dom and Mike go to a gym for a “friendly marital wager” to see who’s the toughest gymnast. Since Produnova, Shushunova and Amanar don’t show up anywhere in this video, it’s obviously going to be just husband and wife.
There’s little doubt in anybody’s mind that if it came down to it, Dominique could kick Mike’s ass. Mike might make most of the money and be the “professional” of the family with a legitimate career and a valid reason to go on living, but it’s easy to see in Dom’s man-like body that she’s definitely the superior physical specimen.
With the song “Eye of the Tiger” playing in the background, the questionable couple warm up for their contest. Dom does a double-biceps pose, furthering my “looks like a man in drag” theory, Mike does a back flip, then Dom does a back flip and it looks like the floor as well as her knee sockets are about to give way.
Then Dom performs a back flip on a beam and performs it quite well for a woman of her age and size. Then Mike does the same maneuver. I have to say that’s pretty impressive for someone who has to sleep with Dominique and eat as fast as he does in order to get his share.
“Okay, Moceanu,” Mike says, “but I bet I can mop the floor with you on these rings.” (Hope there’s no yeast infection on the rings, or they might be mopping all the live-long day!)
Mike manages a couple of seconds of whatever that move is when your arms are out to the side and you’re praying your chest doesn’t rip in half. Dom follows, and she looks really great – until we see that she’s standing on Mike.
This is very symbolic in two ways. One, it alludes to how, even though Dominique thinks she’s the cause of all this rising to the top of Cleveland society, it’s really Mike who’s the cause of it. She’s just standing on him for the ride.
Second, there are clear sexual overtones: Woman on top. Man oppressed. Woman dominator. Man beneath her. And man smiling and loving every minute of it.
Okay, finally, Dom tells the camera, “I think I’m gonna have to close the deal here.” I was hoping we were finally going to see where the yeast infection came from, but no, it’s just Dominique performing a version of the beam mount made famous by Silivas and Dobre.
And it’s not too bad. She’s a little lopsided, a little off-balance here and there, but like with her back flips earlier, it’s impressive that a woman that old and large can still do that level of gymnastics.
But wait! What’s this? Mike does the same beam mount! He’s all over the place, too, but if I was Elfi Schlegel or some other bona fide expert on the sport of gymnastics, I would give Mike a slightly higher score.
At the end, the two are sitting facing one another. Dom says, “I’m impressed. Let’s call it a draw.” Mike says, “Yeah, maybe we should leave the competition to the athletes on the floor.”
I don’t know if I’d go that far. Mike is probably almost as good at women’s gymnastics as Paul Hunt was back in the day. And Dom is definitely fit enough to join the Seniors Circuit.
If you watch that Paul Hunt video on the pink link above, you’ll notice two things. 1. Paul is a really good female gymnast, and 2. He might actually be better on beam than Dominique ever was, including back in 1996 when she single-handedly altered the course of gymnastics history by winning a medal.
But you’ll notice that Paul never took his fame and fortune to Cleveland and started doing commercials about eating and shopping there. That’s something only Dom could concoct. Single-handedly.
Raluca is still my favorite . . .
. . . even if WordPress sucks
As I fight through the changes that WordPress has FORCED upon me, I thought I would do a practice post with something easy: Raluca Haidu.
While on a search for something I can’t remember now, I wound up over at the Couch Gymnast’s page about the 2010 World Championships podium training. There are a bunch of cool pictures there, including this one of Raluca, with the caption: “Did I already post this? oh well, it is cute enough to be looked at twice!”
Raluca is cute enough to be looked at a lot more than twice. All you have to do is watch the first part of The Secret of Deva to know that Raluca had a soaringly high cute-factor, even if her gymnastics-quality-factor was in question.
But she was 8/9 then, and now she’s 16 and she’ll be 17 in London, and I know nobody wants to make the Romanian Olympic team more than her. And nobody wants her to win the All-Around gold over there more than me.
Now I’m going to try to format this thing and see if it creates so much anxiety I’ll just say fuck it and go walk on the beach and remember how easy life used to be.