I really don’t have much to say, but I figured I ought to get at least two posts in for February, and seeing as it isn’t a leap year, I guess I better get one in today. Back in the olden days, if there was an Olympics then it was leap year. But somewhere along the way they changed that and now they’ve got one every couple of years. I don’t know if that’s why the Olympics have become uninteresting to me (not quite as special as they used to be), or if it’s just because I’m an old man now and nothing is all that interesting to me anymore. Or maybe it’s just because back when there were only four teevee channels anything different was a big deal.

Actually, we got a fifth channel (off and on) when I was a kid. When atmospheric conditions permitted, we’d pick up Channel 11 from Kingston Ontario. So while everyone seemed enthralled by Curling at this year’s Olympics, it was old hat to me ‘cuz we’d watch Curling every Saturday morning in the winter. Winter, because there weren’t any fancy indoor arenas for that sort of thing back then – instead it was played outdoors on a frozen lake or something. And they didn’t have any fancy fiberglass and nylon brooms, either. Pretty sure they just grabbed a broom from the closet and headed out to the pond. Ah, those were the days.

I did watch about 15 minutes of Canada vs. Norway (or maybe it was Sweden, I don’t know – lots of white people either way) Curling, but that was about it. When I was a kid I really got into the ski jumping and of course the downhill skiing (anybody remember Jean-Claude Killy?).

If I was running the US Olympic Committee, I’d save a ton of money by just having Donald Trump be on every team. Pretty sure there’s nothing he can’t do and he’s an incredible athlete, from what I understand. But maybe the summer games are more his style. I know you ladies are just dying to see him in track shorts or – if your hearts can take it – in Speedos for the Platform Diving. And in the swimming events, he wouldn’t need a swim cap – he can just take his hair off to be hydrodynamic.

But he might turn the water orange.

Now that the weather’s warming up around here, I’ve been able to wear the waxed canvass rain jacket I bought last fall, just before the weather turned to shit. It’s very nice, but the problem with it is that it’s Irish (I went on a bit of an Irish shopping binge last year – mostly Irish wool sweaters, a knit cap, and a wool scarf. What can I say, I’m a sucker for that Irish shit. My mother would be so happy) and apparently a lot of European shit has the bass-ackward zippers and buttons (I even had to double-check my order, ‘cuz I thought I’d somehow managed to by a women’s jacket). Something to do with the high-class people having servants to dress them back in the day, so all the posh stuff has left-handed fasteners.

I know you women have been forced to deal with this stupidity all your lives, so I won’t complain too much, but it’s amazing to me how goddamn difficult it’s been to get used to zipping the thing up (never mind the snaps). You wouldn’t think it would be that big a deal (and maybe I’m just spastic, I dunno), but, damn, it’s surprisingly difficult.

Oh well, I suppose I ought to get back to doing whatever it is I ought to be doing. Here’s to hoping we have an early spring and a better summer than last year.

I was watching – trying to ignore, actually – an ad for Volvo’s President’s Day sale on Hulu the other morning and it declared something like “what we really love about America is that anybody can become President.” And they showed an ethnic and gender diverse collection of people who are apparently running in 2020 (or at least *could* be). And I thought, well, that’s not right. I’ll grant you that we might have slightly more ethnic diversity in our politics than Sweden does (I mean, I don’t really know that, but it seems like a safe bet), though the Riksdag (that’s the Swedish Parliament, and, no, I didn’t know that without looking it up) is something like 45% female, which is slightly more than double the percentage of women in the US House of Representatives (and the US Senate, too).

But as far as the Presidency goes, let’s face it. You have to be a dude (not counting Edith Wilson), and you pretty much have to be white – with one exception and he was half white and I don’t think we’re gonna have another one of those guys anytime soon. You also have to at least say you’re a Christian (you don’t actually have to *act* like one, of course – unless you get caught doing something immoral, in which case you can always invite Franklin Graham over for dinner to “pray” it away).

So, “sorry, Volvo,” I thought. But not anyone can be President here.

But then I thought maybe they weren’t talking about diversity (despite they happy shiny multicultural faces in their commercial). Maybe they meant that any fucking loser idiot can now be President of the United States, no matter how ignorant, immoral, incompetent, and downright disgusting.

If that’s what they meant, then I guess I have to reluctantly (sadly) agree with that. Truly, no bar is too low anymore.

Although I didn’t watch any of it (didn’t even know the score until I had it thrust upon me this morning), I’m sure that everybody (with the exception of my wife) knows that yesterday was the Super Bowl. There was a time when I cared about that, but that time has long since passed. And even if I actually did care, yesterday’s game was between two teams that I really can’t stand. Though I guess I hate New England more than I hate Philly, so other than a career-ending injury to Tom Brady on the opening play, I guess yesterday’s result was about as good as it could be.

Mostly, though, I don’t care.

Not so for our Dear Leader, though. He somehow found a way to carve time out of his busy schedule of tweetin’ and releasin’ memos and whatnot to host a Super Bowl party down at the Trump International Golf Club, where he was able to fondle ogle shake hands with a bunch of Florida Atlantic University cheerleaders. Sadly for Trump, his wife was there. Plus his boys Brady and Belichick came out on the short end of this one.

A darn shame.

Oh well, halfway to getting Monday over with. That’s about the best thing I can say about today.