Live & Direct from Boystown

That's right, you read that correctly. I have relocated. And not just relocated to a new apartment or merely a fresh new zip code. I've replaced neighboring Camden with neighboring Gary, IN, and I've substituted my beloved D'allesandros for a cleverly named hair stylist across the street, "Great Head." I am now operating from a new time zone, the home of Carl Winslow, Cousin Larry, and Jefferson D'Arcy. I have followed my hero to his hometown, and I have set up shop in unfamiliar surroundings. But none of those fine family men mentioned above lived where I live. I, Big Firm, have (by complete happenstance I assure you) settled in the bosom of diversity, where steroid induced men proudly walk down the street holding hands; where flamboyance is encouraged, ludicrous tank tops are flaunted, and heterosexuality makes you (and by you I mean me) unique. Whereas the tell of a homosexual in North Carolina was preferring Marlboro Milds to Reds, there is no such thing as a subtle statement in these parts. I, for one, can't wait to get spotted at the gym.

In other news, the Olympics have begun, and I'm told the opening ceremony cost 300 millions dollars, or roughly 2 trillion, 705 billion Zimbabwe Dollars. I'm also told it was a completely absurd display of ridiculousness, Chris Bosh made a beret look hard, and Yao is, indeed, quite tall. Nothing can top Muhammad Ali in Atlanta, but at the very least China could have saluted their most celebrated citizen in a more poignant manner. The man saves Dolphins people... with his bare hands! God forbid he have the pleasure of lighting a torch.

The combination of a brand spankin new television and no friends has made the Olympics the focal point of my weekend. Presently, I am watching miniature American girls with abs of steel flip, smile, and sretch in truly unnatural ways. Putting aside the fact that all of these young women appear to have penises, I have to say their strength is rather impressive. And their butt cheeks. Those are quite impressive too. But now I sound like Béla Károlyi, and I'd rather have nothing in common with him since he freaks me out. Oooooh, an American girl just fell off the bars and subsequently triggered an eating disorder for her early twenties. Ouch. Ah nah, ANOTHER American down on the bars! Her father's dreams down the shitter.

Other sports that have caught my eye today include beach volleyball, trap shooting, swimming, and of course, basketball. I took a few things away from the Americans dominating victory in Beijing this morning. For one, African-Americans are better at basketball than Chinese people. An astonishing development, indeed. Chinese people are better at synchronized opening ceremonies and creating pollution, but we (and by we I mean African-Americans) are better at jumping, running, dunking, dribbling, and blocking. And number two, Henry Kissinger is set to die any minute now. Like Fidel Castro any minute now. The shot of Dubya and his extended family waiving mini American flags was quite inspirational, but Kissinger directly behind him stole my attention. If death doesn't find that man in the next two years, get me on his diet because his lip was hanging below his belly button, and if I'm not mistaken, his eyes were completely closed. That means he missed American dunk after dunk after dunk, and hottie Sue Bird looking strong in the stands. For shame, Mr. Kissinger.

I also learned that Michael Phelps and Carmelo Anthony are becoming friends, you know, because they are both from Baltimore. And Beenie Sigel and I are two peas in a pod, too, in case you didn't know. Now call me crazy, but something tells me that Michael Phelps and Melo don't have as much in common as Doug Collins might like to think. A) I'm putting my money on Melo not being able to swim. At all. There's a better chance of Melo getting breast implants than doing the breast stroke. And there's NO CHANCE that he goes underwater without holding his nostrils closed. And Michael Phelps may be 6'4'' but again, my money is against him throwing down. There's a reason he's a swimmer and not a shooting guard. Well, actually there's a few reasons, but still. If anything, these two can discuss getting DUIs, but outside of that, I'm thinking this conversation is a short one...

And my last observation relates to beach volleyball. I watched pretty much the entire duration of an epic battle in the sand between very tall Chinese women and not quite as tall Greek women. Assuming Naughty By Nature were watching as well, they must have been quite relieved to find that "Hip Hop Hooray" is still getting burn in between points during beach volleyball matches. As is every other once great, now wack song from the early 90s, including Lou Bega's lyrical masterpiece, "Mambo Number 5." Also, the women hug after every point. EVERY POINT! It's been years since two people of the same gender demonstrated such assertive and proud appreciation for one another.

I urge anyone and everyone to visit me in Chicago. Even if I don't know you, come visit. And I've got an extra ticket to Phils-Cubbies August 30th, make it happen. Big Firm, out.