Sugar and Spice

In case you haven’t heard already, Eph Chip Knight unfortunately did not medal at these Olympic games. He fell on his first run, disqualifying him from higher competition. Personally, we cannot accept this explanation. Rather, we subscribe to a more plausible theory. One giant slalom skier had the misfortune of falling during his run, too – right in the middle of an earthquake tremor! In our minds, Chip was just another victim of the same natural phenomenon. We congratulate him whole-heartedly on making it as far as he did. Chip’s Olympic performance, both prior to and at the games, is something in which we can all take great pride.

Now, time to take on the rest of the athletes. We were most impressed by the gold medal performance of Ilia Kulik. However, his shirt just didn’t do the trick for us. Though Spice has proclaimed her love for animal prints in the past, we found the giraffe motif queer. The tiger’s wild, a leopard is sultry, and a jaguar is smooth, but what the hell is a giraffe: long and skinny? Oh, whoops, we’re a little slow. Elvis “I-don’t-have-a-feminine-side” (yeah, right; you just go join Ben Affleck on that GQ cover) Stojko took home the men’s silver. He gave a commendable performance despite having sprained his groin the night before in some late night antics (giraffe anyone?). In a related story, American Todd Eldredge attributed his sub-par showing to a sore ass.

On the flip side of the gender coin, poor little Michelle Kwan bawled her way all the way to the podium, unable to deal with only a silver. Sucks to her ass-mar. Tiny Tara Lipinski, who snatched gold, makes a much more interesting story. For one thing, she realized her life-long goal (yep, all six years) of becoming an Olympic champion. More importantly, we are positively convinced that she is really Jonathan Lipnicki in drag. Go watch Jerry Maguire for the twentieth time and we guarantee you’ll see it our way. Besides, that explains her chirpy questions like “Did you know that Michelle Kwan weighs eight pounds?” and “Did you know what Elvis Stojko does with his three rabbits?”

Speaking of bestiality and other perverse sexual acts, a Williamstown Police Officer was accused of being a pedophiliac. Apparently, this made last week’s Berkshire Briefs and a previous issue of the Eagle, but as five out of every five Williams students probably do not read either (unless, of course, you’re from the area and half of your family writes for the Eagle), we thought a recap was in order. Not only was the cop found to be in possession of kiddie porn, but he also used town computers to access child pornography. Maybe it’s time the WPD gave us and our beleaguered party policy a break and looked at their lousy, stinking selves. We personally think that a couple of drunk college kids at a rowhouse pose less of a threat to society than a police chief who gets off on children. It’s a damn good thing we didn’t run that adorable baby picture ofa diapered Spice; who wants to run the risk of that pervert getting way too excited by it anyway.

On the children tangent, Elle Macpherson recently shed her milk ad image and got a hell of a lot thinner. She delivered a baby boy last week named (get this) Arpad Flynn Busson. Now that’s just cruel. While Spice predicts he will be filling the shoes of Ben Affleck on the cover of GQ (surprise, surprise–that’s a new one, Spice), Sugar more readily foresees an elementary school overrun with hideously-named celebrities’ kids. Young Flynn (as he will be known) will join the ranks of Rumer, Scout, Tallulah, Heavenly and Searles. When they run out of options, let’s hope that they don’t resort to disgraces like Putrid, Raunchy, or Boot. Uniqueness has a limit.

There’s another detestable name in the news who long ago shed her childhood innocence. Monica Lewinsky reportedly kept a dress that Clinton jizzed on, sighing dreamily, “I’ll never wash it again.” That’s about as disgusting as they come. Given the same scenario, we would not only wash it (repeatedly), but also slap the Prez with the dry cleaning bill. Apparently, what’s cutting edge news to us is yesterday’s news to most of the nation. According to Time magazine this week, “only the most media-starved Americans were unaware” of this fact. The Bubble strikes again! Nonetheless, we’re still looking forward to our spring break in Iraq.

We were recently surprised to learn that no, Gerald Ford is not dead yet (give him a year). In fact, knowing the demand for aging, semi-incompetent presidents is waning, Entertainment Weekly decided to extend a charitable hand and allow Ford to do reviews of newly released videos. The former prez wrote, of Air Force One, “Harrison and I are both Fords.” Ha-ha, good one. Maybe he should write for us. We could use someone like that to make us look better in light of all the bad publicity weve been getting lately. Speaking of near dead Presidents, we hear they’re going to rename the National Airport in Washington D.C. for Ronald Reagan. Now, while this excites us as much as a Thompson Twins reunion, it does lead us to ask why must they wait until people are dead or senile to honor them? (Lest we forget Frank Sinatra’s painful acceptance speech at the Oscars a few years ago (mercifully cut short)?) As if they can appreciate it. We would now like to bestow an honor of the week. It goes to Lizzie O’Leary for finishing her column before anyone else (before us, even, let us assure you this is being pecked out amidst Monday night layout), in fact before we even assigned it. Go, Lizzie! Maybe one day we’ll learn from your shining example.

We’d like to pause for a moment and honor the hate mail we received last week. With the exception of Nacho and Sausage, who have accepted our offer to write for this section in the future, we thought they were pretty poorly written. So someone used to be on the Record Staff? How long did that last? Three issues?

Well, we’ll wrap up now, seeing as we’re exceedingly tired and writing any further seems about as desirable as reading a Martin Buber book (just kidding, Spice really likes him) or getting our toenails yanked out one by one. Au Revoir.

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