March 4th, 2013

My Bad

Hey. How's it going. No one cares. I want to get straight to the point.

You're a smart person. You can kind of get the sense that I am not enjoying myself. It's not just that I am oblivious to sports, it's that I actively try to avoid it. So when writing this column, accuracy isn't going to really be my “thing.”

This. This is my thing.

My job is to poke at the keyboard until full, coherent sentences are displayed on the screen. And they don't always have to be coherent. They can be very much have done so, if you will.

My colleagues are telling me that I may have missed some important points. And not just in last week's column, but the week before that and the week before that, and...no wait, I think that's it. In any case, glaring errors have been following me from the very beginning. And apparently I have to issue a few retractions and a couple of corrections. I think like seven of one and four of the other. Or vice versa.

Okay, first off: I have not been selected as The Galactic Crayon's senior sports writer. The title is just: sports writer. Although I'm thinking of having it changed to “sports rider.” Yeah. That would be cool. Turns out you can't be the senior without any juniors to senior over. Or interns or freshmen or what the hell ever.

"That's cool. I'll get my own coffee."

I'm not sure if that was a retraction or a correction. In fact, I can't clearly classify these with any degree of confidence. But that means neither can you, so we'll keep going.

Next: the length of a football field is not actually a mile as I stated in the first installment on February 11th. The width and the circumference are a mile. The length is about three miles. I know football is our readership's most valued treasure, so I apologize for the mistake, but you're welcome. Because I finally fixed it. SPORTS!

This is actually kind of fun. Let's keep this CorrecTrain chugging.

I left out an ENTIRE PARAGRAPH in February 18th's issue. And these things come out on Monday, when everyone's brains are having trouble comprehending simple bits of information as it is. Then I pop out of my little trash corner and give you stories with more holes than a Tennessee stop sign. My bad.

To rectify this, I have included said missing paragraph here in its entirety. Again, you're welcome:

The International Olympic Committee has decided to ditch wrestling from its repertoire of athletic torture trials. And while the reason for the exclusion has yet to be revealed, I have a few theories of my own. Either no one is taking their steroids, thus creating more boring, roid-rage-free matches; or somebody failed to pay the monthly bribe.

Last week, I said the Daytona 500 was held in Dayton, Ohio. Turns out: no. The Daytona 500 gets its name from the weight of the sun, which is 500 day tons. But en Espanol, 500 day tons is expressed as “Daytona 500” or “Daytona quinientos.” The Daytona 500 is actually held in Albuquerque.

Representin' in the A-B-Q.

Lastly, Ronda Rousey (AKA Rowdy Rousey. Ronda Rowdy. Rowdy Ronda. YEAH! Rowdy Ronda, that's the keeper) and Liz Camouche (AKA The Clobberin' Camouche) could not have possibly made history the weekend of February 23rd by being the first women to square off in a UFC fight. If I had done any semblance of research, I would have discovered that Rowdy Ronda already has a UFC belt.

To be fair though, she got it when she disguised herself as a male MMA fighter (Rowdy Johnathan) and fought an actual dude. He's fully recovered. His figurative and physical manhood, however...we won't get into that.

Stanford beat Utah 84-66.

NEXT WEEK: Ice cream. Lots and lots of ice cream.

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