Next Time, Reality Check Is Part Of The Prelims
Poor Johnny Weir.
If only he had spent as much time practicing his Triple Lutz as he has refining his political commentary, he would not have plummeted off of the medal stand in what can only be termed a spectacularly awful performance that subsituted creative hand gestures for actual technical skill. Alongside such heavyweights as Pleshenko--who actually landed quadruple-triple-double combinations and not the wussy Loops that Weir thought could sustain his previous marks--he looked downright, well, awful.
There was no one more qualified to represent America in the Mens finals, than a figure skater who describes himself as "princessy," once compared the performance to a "shot of vodka and a snort of coke" and refused to complete the short program without his beloved red glove, Camille, who in a stunning turn of events did not make an appearance in the long program (though we believe its not co-habitating with Michael Jacksons rhinestone number on auction on eBay). Mr. Pinky ring himself even has a MySpace which touts his amazing repertoire of Christina Aguilera music and poor fashion choices (post-Soviet kitch died around the time the Soviets themselves embraced McDonalds). Its like a car wreck: a perfect explosion of everything wrong with the world of figure skating that the sport is desperately trying to improve. If anyone has done wonders for the Case Against the Flamboyantly Artistic Yet Ridiculously Unathletic--and thats no commentary on his sexuality--its him (with Dick Button in a close second).
Hes just bad at skating, that's all, which was evidenced by his disappointing fifth place finish. At this point, we're betting that he's going to need a day job, and we hear Katie's Today Show gig is opening up. He's already proven his moonbat worth; the only thing more weenie than Johnnys skating is his toe of the company line:
Nice. But thats only unnecessary quip he's issued recently.
Afraid of what he means to the sport? Its figure skating. By now, we've all long since accepted that there is a certain inherent gay-ness (though his MySpace claims differently). We don't even ask anymore because frankly, we don't care; it was "revolutionary" with Rudy Galindo, by now, Johnny Weir is just a throwback to a theory that, oddly enough, has never proven a successful distraction from the actual skating part of the competition. The most decorated figure skaters have been far more concerned with their technical performance over their costume.
Do what you want on your own time, Johnny, just don't waste our tax dollars applying Bumble and Bumble to your, and soaking up the GLAAD memos, instead of landing a Quad.
Cross-posted from American Princess.
If only he had spent as much time practicing his Triple Lutz as he has refining his political commentary, he would not have plummeted off of the medal stand in what can only be termed a spectacularly awful performance that subsituted creative hand gestures for actual technical skill. Alongside such heavyweights as Pleshenko--who actually landed quadruple-triple-double combinations and not the wussy Loops that Weir thought could sustain his previous marks--he looked downright, well, awful.
There was no one more qualified to represent America in the Mens finals, than a figure skater who describes himself as "princessy," once compared the performance to a "shot of vodka and a snort of coke" and refused to complete the short program without his beloved red glove, Camille, who in a stunning turn of events did not make an appearance in the long program (though we believe its not co-habitating with Michael Jacksons rhinestone number on auction on eBay). Mr. Pinky ring himself even has a MySpace which touts his amazing repertoire of Christina Aguilera music and poor fashion choices (post-Soviet kitch died around the time the Soviets themselves embraced McDonalds). Its like a car wreck: a perfect explosion of everything wrong with the world of figure skating that the sport is desperately trying to improve. If anyone has done wonders for the Case Against the Flamboyantly Artistic Yet Ridiculously Unathletic--and thats no commentary on his sexuality--its him (with Dick Button in a close second).
Hes just bad at skating, that's all, which was evidenced by his disappointing fifth place finish. At this point, we're betting that he's going to need a day job, and we hear Katie's Today Show gig is opening up. He's already proven his moonbat worth; the only thing more weenie than Johnnys skating is his toe of the company line:
Interviewed on CBS' Early Show this morning, Weir explained that he knew he asn't at his best on the day of the long program, and in particular wasn't "feeling pretty." Then, waxing philosophical, he noted that things aren't always perfect. If they were, Michelle Kwan would be skating, and "we wouldn't be in Iraq."
Nice. But thats only unnecessary quip he's issued recently.
"I know that a lot of people, especially the more Republican-style people, are very afraid of what I mean to the sport and what I’m going to say, what kind of revolutionary, crazy things are going to come out of my mouth. And good for them. They should be scared."
Afraid of what he means to the sport? Its figure skating. By now, we've all long since accepted that there is a certain inherent gay-ness (though his MySpace claims differently). We don't even ask anymore because frankly, we don't care; it was "revolutionary" with Rudy Galindo, by now, Johnny Weir is just a throwback to a theory that, oddly enough, has never proven a successful distraction from the actual skating part of the competition. The most decorated figure skaters have been far more concerned with their technical performance over their costume.
Do what you want on your own time, Johnny, just don't waste our tax dollars applying Bumble and Bumble to your, and soaking up the GLAAD memos, instead of landing a Quad.
Cross-posted from American Princess.
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