Jesse James
I think the only person on Jesse James’ side right now is Tiger Woods. This new sex scandal is absolutely perfect for Tiger. He can now just focus on his return to competitive golf, while the media hounds can focus their attention to, rightfully, tearing apart Mr. James.
James committed the cardinal sin when it comes to celebrity adultery. Never, under any circumstances, cheat on your significant other if he or she is more famous than you. Look, Tiger’s actions were reprehensible, but is anyone really surprised a guy with hundreds of millions of dollars in his bank account and worldwide fame wants to sleep with lots of women?
As I’ve said before, all Tiger has to do is come back and play winning golf and this scandal will eventually be forgotten. Sure, people feel bad for his wife, but no one really knows who she is. Right now, it’s only women who dislike Tiger and most women aren’t golf fans in the first place. Every guy just wants to see Tiger return and kick ass.
This is where Jesse James is screwed. He’s a complete nobody (I have literally never heard of him before this story came out) and his wife is a super famous actress who everyone loves. Seriously, who doesn’t like Sandra Bullock? She is lusted after by men and absolutely BELOVED by women. I’m not kidding. Mama and Sister Tewks were legitimately crushed when news of James’ infidelity came out.
The backlash against James will be unbelievably vitriolic. People will not forget this story as long as Sandra Bullock remains in the public eye. How do you cheat on someone like her? And with tattooed freaks? Plus, there’s nothing he can do to get back in people’s good graces. He’s toast. He threw it all away for disease-ridden sex.
What an idiot.
Mike Weir
This story is nowhere near the magnitude of the one above, but it irked me this morning nonetheless. In the first round of the Bay Hill Invitational, Mike Weir shot a 67 to be one stroke behind the leaders at Arnold Palmer’s tournament.
Apparently, Weir had skipped the tournament four years in a row at the beginning of the last decade. That’s not a big deal; most golfers don’t play every tournament on the PGA Tour schedule.
What pissed me off was Weir’s reasoning for skipping Bay Hill. He didn’t play well there earlier in his career, so he decided to stop playing because the course was too tough.
Are you kidding me?
And now, the only reason he’s back playing at Bay Hill is because tournament organizers made the course easier. How can Weir call himself a professional athlete with that type of attitude? His exact quote is “I didn’t see the point [in playing] if I couldn’t contend.” What a horrible message that sends for kids.
If you can’t play really well, don’t bother trying. In what other sport would such an admission of weakness be allowed? Can you imagine if Roy Halladay refused to pitch against the Yankees when he was with the Jays because New York’s batting lineup was too good? Or Kobe not wanting to suit up against LeBron?
I think it’s fairly obvious now why Weir hasn’t done anything since winning the Masters seven years ago. He lacks the competitive fire needed to compete at a high level. How can he call himself Canadian after making comments like that?
Tween Girls
They are ruining American Idol. They are the only people in America dumb enough to spend money texting in votes for their favourite singers and the viewing (and listening) public has to suffer the consequences.
These girls successfully ensured that four great singers were robbed of a spot in the Top 12, in favour of dweebs who look like they don’t have a drop of testosterone (or talent) in their bodies.
Furthermore, when the Top 12 was named, it was quite evident to everyone not a teenaged girl that the women were much stronger singers than the men.
What’s happening? The women are being systematically picked off while some terrible guys have remained in the competition. I can’t argue with Paige being sent home on Wednesday night. I am admittedly a horrible singer and I think I could have performed “Against All Odds” better than her.
But, there are now 6 guys and 4 girls remaining. Mark my words: Crystal and Siobhan are going to be in big trouble because tween girls have no desire to buy their records or listen to their voices. They would rather see Tim Urban stumble blandly through another song he doesn’t understand or Little Aaron mug for the cameras.
With Simon leaving after this season, this could legitimately be the end for American Idol. The performances are getting worse, not better. There are only a handful of people who even belong on that stage. You could not give me enough money to see the Top 10 on their summer tour.
What a horrible experience that would be.
Before I delve into last night’s episode of Survivor, I’d like to comment on a seminal moment in my athletic career.
I played my last game of competitive indoor volleyball last night. My knees can no longer take the pounding. The continuous jumping has wreaked havoc on my joints. If I want to continue to Crossfit and play baseball, then my volleyball days have to cease.
Of course, I will still play beach volleyball on my Caribbean vacations. Depriving the women on the island the opportunity to see me sweaty and shirtless would just be cruel.
Anyway, I ended my career as an A division champion as my team won the title in three straight games. It was a dominating performance and a fitting end to my career. Next winter, I will begin to tackle curling.
Another stellar episode of Survivor. This show just gets better and better.
The conversation between Russell and Rob at the beginning of the episode was like watching Professor Xavier and Magneto square off in a verbal joust before the inevitable physical clash (that might be the geekiest sentence I will ever write).
Has anyone noticed that, in the opening credits, every female and jacked male contestant is shown greased up in baby oil from that sliding competition a few weeks ago? It’s an underrated treat. I have Danielle’s three second clip running on a continuous loop. What a fantastic editing decision.
I loved the looks of shock on the Villains' faces when the Heroes walked into the immunity challenge avec James and sans Tom. Even the Villains know the Heroes are retarded.
Was there any doubt whatsoever that Boston Rob would win individual immunity and a hot dog feast for his tribe? The guy is absolutely incredible. At this point, I would have sex with him and not even think twice. I don’t even think it’d be a gay thing. I would just want some of his greatness to rub off on me (Ok, that was kind of gay).
The strategy espoused by both Rob and Russell last night was impressive to witness. My head hurt just trying to figure the moves each guy was trying to pull off. Rob’s misdirection of making Russell think he was going to be voted off, when Parvarti was really going, was pure genius.
Not to be outdone, Russell correctly determined the ruse and made his own counter move. Then Rob adjusted his own plan to ensure he still had the correct numbers. It was like watching a chess mach.
Colby’s apparent throwing in the towel was disheartening to watch. I agreed wholeheartedly with James’ assertion that Colby wasn’t himself: “It’s like finding out Superman is wearing a fat suit.”
Unbelievably, I found James growing on me throughout this episode. The race between James and JT was exactly like the second Apollo Creed/Rocky Balboa beach run in Rocky III. All that was missing was a homoerotic man hug in the surf.
There is nothing to be said about the Villains’ tribal council except WOW. I have no idea how Russell pulled that off, but it was one of the most amazing things I have ever seen on this show. Basically, it all boiled down to Tyson being a moron, but Russell was responsible for planting that seed.
Rob’s face after realizing Russell had gotten the best of him was priceless. He was like King Xerxes in 300. A very human chill crawled up Rob’s spine. The game is now on. Both Russell and Rob have finally found an adversary worthy of their respective talents.
The Heroes tribe just doesn’t get it. Why vote James out now? You could have both Tom and Colby and could have gotten rid of that whiny tool Amanda instead. That would be a tribe to be reckoned with. Their stupidity just astounds me.
Last Wednesday, I threw my hat into the March Madness and tried my hand at picking the first two rounds of the NCAA tournament, with the promise of revisiting my picks today.
What a horrible idea.
Out of 16 teams, I successfully predicted five making it to the Sweet 16 (Michigan State, Kansas State, Kentucky, West Virginia and Purdue). Since you’re supposed to dance with who brung ya (unless someone hotter comes along), I am sticking with four of these five to make it to the Final Four.
I’ve decided to let someone who knows a lot more about this stuff than I do take over for the Talkin’ with Tewks March Madness coverage. CSzem’s column is below. I have no idea what the hell he is talking about half the time, but it sounds smart. Unfortunately, he actually uses research, data and ‘facts’ to write his column, which goes against everything I believe in as a writer.
"Unfit in Ontario on my Sectional”
I can’t help but notice the stark contrast between the weekend that Tewks had and the weekend that I had. Saturday afternoon, while your regular blogger was competing in a challenge to be considered the Fittest Man in the World, I was competing in an epic adventure centred on drinking and gambling (or as I usually call it “Saturday”).
As Tewks has correctly pointed out, March Madness is a sacred time for people like me (support meetings are every Wednesday). Quite simply, the tournament provides a veritable smorgasbord of betting options. It’s like the Super Bowl, but spread out over 4 weeks. The most popular form of gambling this time of year is, of course, the bracket. Everyone’s got one. Your boss has one. That annoying woman from Accounting has one. Your pregnant wife has one (that’s the one that’s beating yours). This is the one with all the bragging rights. Sadly, it’s also the least lucrative of any of the gambling options (and certainly the one you’re least likely to win).
With the Sweet 16 now set, and another great weekend ahead of us, I’ll try my hand at some picks for the world to see (and ultimately ridicule). The irony of this is that Tewks makes his picks based on who’s seeded higher and/or where he’d rather go to school. My picks are derived from literally hours upon hours of watching games, breaking down stats, analyzing gambling trends, and devouring any other information I can find to make an informed decision. And our success rate will probably be nearly identical.
THE PICKS
Butler (+7) v. Syracuse
I like Syracuse to win, but I think Butler grinds it out and keeps within striking distance.
Prediction: 64-60 ‘Cuse
West Virginia (-4.5) v. Washington
Washington’s hot play from the latter half of the Pac-10 Regular Season and Conference Tournament certainly carried over into the first weekend of the tournament. It’s also entirely possible that Marquette was never any good and New Mexico, despite their nice season, simply wasn’t ready for prime time.
Prediction: 79-70 West Virginia
Kansas State (-4.5) v. Xavier
K-State was easily among the most impressive teams in the first two rounds. They’re an elite team, and can absolutely win the whole thing, especially after their in-state nemesis (Kansas) was taken out by a team led by a little white kid named Ali Falkjflakfjlkasdfjalsdfjlasdjfdlkjasflkjfasdlkasdfj.
Prediction: 81-68 K-State
Kentucky (-9) v. Cornell
5 years from now the only time any of these people will be in the same room is if John Wall needs his taxes done or DeMarcus Cousins needs an attorney to get him out of jail.
Prediction: 77-60 Kentucky
Ohio St. (-4.5) v. Tennessee
Tennessee just isn’t that good. They were lucky to beat San Diego St. and then lucked into playing Ohio. Conversely, Evan Turner is VERY good.
Prediction: 74-66 Ohio St.
St. Mary’s (+3.5) v. Baylor
The Upset Special: At the very least, St. Mary’s has the ability to keep this thing close till the end.
Prediction: 74-73 St. Mary’s
Duke (-8) v. Purdue
Would prison really be that bad, Tewks? I mean, you get your meals all taken care of, you get to exercise regularly. Sure, there is that “other thing”.....but I’m not nearly as pretty as Tewks, so I think I’d be OK. Let’s forget we talked about this.
Prediction: 68-54 Duke
Michigan St (-1.5) v. Northern Iowa
Everyone and their cousin are going to be riding Northern Iowa, completely ignoring the fact that they had never heard of them a week ago. UNI took out Kansas, Michigan St. isn’t as good as Kansas, so this should be no problem. The betting public is going to LOVE Northern Iowa. Of course, Vegas wasn’t built because the uninformed betting public has a high success rate. I think MSU guts it out and UNI doesn’t live up to their newfound expectations.
Prediction: 62-60 Michigan St.
Elite Eight
Kentucky over West Virginia, 79-77 in a thriller.
Syracuse over K-State, 74-70. The Orange’s destruction of Gonzaga brought me back on board.
Duke over St. Mary’s, 69-62. Nice run for the Gaels, but these are the big boy games now.
Ohio St. over Michigan St., 71-65. They were better in the Big-10, they’ll be better here.
I swear these predictions have absolutely nothing to do with the litany of bets I have remaining. Absolutely nothing.
Here’s what I don’t understand about Toronto Maple Leaf fans. The team is putrid; and not just a ‘they just aren’t that competitive’ putrid. I am talking about a team that is ‘once in a generation’ terrible.
That’s not even a joke. The Leafs have not been this bad since the 1980s when Harold Ballard imposed his reign of terror at the corner of Church and Carlton. Now, instead of being embarrassed at cheering for such a lacklustre product, what do Leaf fans do?
They debate and discuss which players deserve to be bestowed with the Captain’s ‘C’ with such verve and vigour that you would think they were in Rome trying to decide who should be the next Pope.
Coincidentally, both tasks involve the blowing of white smoke: in Rome, they release smoke from the Vatican to signal the selection of a new Pope. In Toronto, MLSE blows smoke up fans’ asses that the team is actually committed to, you know, winning.
The top names bandied about for Toronto’s vacant captaincy are: Dion Phaneuf, Mike Komisarek, Phil Kessel and Francois Beauchemin.
You have to eliminate Kessel right away. More so in hockey than other sports, a team needs a captain who will be vocal in the dressing room and not be afraid to get in guys' faces. From what I’ve seen of Kessel in media interviews, I don’t think he’d be comfortable speaking up at the dinner table, let alone a professional hockey locker room.
I suppose Komisarek and Beauchemin would make compelling choices, but do either of those guys scream ‘Captain of the Toronto Maple Leafs’?
I agree with Brian Burke and Ron Wilson’s claim during training camp that they weren’t going to select a captain just for the hell of it. Remember, the next Leafs captain has to follow in the footsteps of Wendell Clark, Doug Gilmour and Mats Sundin. Does anyone on the current roster come close to comparing to those Leaf greats?
Phaneuf would have the most potential to be in that group, but he really needs to be a part of the organization for more than two months. Also, I would think it would be prudent to see if Dion can actually make the team better and no longer languish in last place in the Eastern Conference.
However, do these guys even want to be captain of the Leafs at this point? I wouldn’t want to be the leader of such a dysfunctional franchise. It would be akin to being named Captain of the Titanic after the original was swept up in that wave.
Who wants to be the leader of a sinking ship?
Well I am still alive. Barely.
What a crazy weekend. Click the link to this week's podcast to hear about the Crossfit Sectional in general and my performance, which I was pretty happy with considering I am terrible at some of the movements.
Talkin' with Tewks Live - Crossfit Sectional Recap
In the podcast, I discuss my hands being torn to shit, which they were from the horrible pullup bar that we had to use in the third workout. Check out the picture below to see the ghastly results.
Also, check out this Youtube clip I found of my rowing heat. I'm on the left side. I was the only guy in my heat (the first for the men) to row without a shirt on. Obviously.
I will be back next year. I have the taste for competition now. And I am not satisfied with 38th place.
One last thing, I forgot to thank everyone for the support they gave me before I embarked on this journey. I appreciate it.
Those of you who are long time followers of the blog know that I am a willing disciple of Crossfit. I first saw the light a little over two years when preparing for an all-inclusive trip to Cuba. To get yourself up to speed on what Crossfit is all about read this column from April 2008.
Each year in July, there is a Crossfit Games held in California. Its purpose is to find the World’s Fittest Man and Woman through a variety of strength and metabolic conditioning events. To get to California, one must enter a Sectional. Place high enough in the Sectional and you move on to a Regional competition. The cream of the crop then descends upon Aromas, California to see who can make legitimate claim to being the Fittest Man and Woman on earth.
Tomorrow, the Ontario Sectional competition begins with approximately 150 athletes taking part in four workouts over two days. The top 15 men and top 15 women will qualify for the Canadian Regionals in Calgary at the end of May.
I’ve been training in earnest since the last week of 2009. I have never fully committed myself both physically and mentally to something before.
Not only were my workouts consistent (five workouts a week for four months), but they were also unparalleled in intensity. I worked my ass off. There were times when I just didn’t want to go the gym, but I pushed myself past my comfort zone and put my work in day in and day out.
For the first time in my life, I really paid attention to nutrition and what I put in my body. I’ve always eaten fairly well (not a huge fan of sweets or other junk food), but I made conscious decisions to only put healthy food into my body while in training. I don’t think I’ve eaten fried food in 2010.
Alcohol intake was another huge factor. I haven’t been drunk at all this year. I was even sober on New Year’s Eve. I gained my weekends back. No longer did I have waste days away sleeping off a hangover; it was fantastic.
Conversely, my alcohol tolerance is pathetic. I went to the casino on Wednesday and had one beer and one small glass of wine. I woke up with a headache. This does not bode well for my inevitable return to drinking.
The workouts for this weekend were posted yesterday morning. The Saturday workouts are below; Sunday’s final event is being cloaked in secrecy:
Workout #1
3000m Row for time
This will actually play to my strengths. I am bigger than the average Crossfitter which means I can generate more power (row faster) than most competitors. I need a top time here to have any chance of qualifying for the Regionals.
Workout #2
3 Rounds for time
10 Overhead Squats (95lbs)
10 Burpees
This is not a good workout for me. Overhead squats are a technical lift and I am terrible at things that require comprehension and actual thought. The weight is light enough for me to manage, but my poor form will not stand a chance against those who could do this workout in their sleep.
Workout #3
As Many Rounds as Possible in 12 minutes
5 Deadlifts (235lbs)
10 Pullups
5 Ring Dips
I have a very good deadlift and an advantage over most guys but, unfortunately, the weight is not heavy enough to separate the bigger guys from the smaller guys. 235lbs will not give me an advantage. If it was 315lbs, I would feel a lot more confident about this workout as the weight would impede the smaller guys.
But with 235lbs, I will only to be able to gain a fractional advantage, something I will lose at the pullups and dips. Both of these exercises are catered to smaller guys as they are bodyweight movements. They are moving less mass; therefore they can get more work done faster.
In fact, both workout #2 and #3 are predisposed to smaller frames. It will be a miracle for me to qualify, unless Sunday is an absolute perfect workout for me.
Tune in on Monday for a full Sectionals recap.
Just a few quick hits today on a variety of topics as I have a big 72 hours coming up. This afternoon, I am embarking on the first session of my new life goal of representing Canada at the 2022 Winter Olympics in curling.
I have a ‘Learn to Curl’ class with Sister Tewks (Hey, even the best have to start somewhere). I am hoping that my session will be led by Cheryl Bernard. If that’s the case, I will do whatever it takes to obtain some extra credit. I’ll bring my rock straight to her button.
This weekend, I will be competing in the event that I’ve been training excessively hard for over the last four months, the details of which I will divulge in tomorrow’s column.
The Iditarod
For reasons that remain unclear, my good friend and avid reader, Thy Drunken Rookie, is a closeted fan of the Iditarod. For those of you not up to speed on the world of competitive sled dog racing, the Iditarod is like the World Series of this niche sport.
It takes place in Alaska every year and it’s basically just a test of who can’t die in the frigid, Alaskan weather while leading a team of 11 huskies through the wilderness for a little over a week.
I don’t understand the point of it either.
Apparently, this year’s winner, Lance Mackey, won his fourth consecutive Iditarod which is apparently akin to Roger Federer winning six Wimbledon titles in a row.
Congratulations, Lance! See a picture of Mr. Mackey here. Yikes. Now, I have a few other questions. Like what is the probability that Mr. Mackie does not engage in group orgies with his dogs at night? There’s a little too much chlorine in that gene pool.
Ron Washington Admits to Cocaine Use
At first glance, I was nonplussed at the revelation of Texas Rangers manager Ron Washington admitting to cocaine use. The guy played in the majors in the 70s and 80s when such drug use was a rampant problem.
Then I read the story a little more in-depth and found out that Washington failed a major league drug test LAST YEAR!
What?
The best part of the story is that Washington says that he only used cocaine once. I am calling supreme bullshit on that one. You experiment with recreational drugs in your twenties when you’re young and dumb. You don’t ‘try cocaine once’ when you’re fifty-seven years old.
I have a feeling this is not the last time we will hear about this story. Fifty bucks says Washington and Josh Hamilton took their nostrils to Santa’s village at some point during last season (Did that analogy make any sense at all?).
Argos Sign Canadian QB
The big news out of the Toronto sports world is that the Argonauts signed local boy, Danny Brannagan, to a three year contract. I actually went to university with Brannagan which makes this story hit close to home, as it reminds me of my failed dreams of professional sports glory.
I don’t really understand why Canadian quarterbacks are shunned so vehemently by the CFL. I can see that there is a talent drop-off from their American counterparts, but I would think playing in a Canadian system for four years would give the Canucks a competitive advantage.
Most Canadians don’t understand CFL rules, how are Americans going to?
Full disclosure: I don’t know that much about NCAA college basketball.
However, when have I ever let something as insignificant as knowledge stop me from writing a column before?
The reason I don’t know a lot about March Madness is that I don’t follow the game during the regular season. I am not watching a sport when the best players in the world aren’t playing. What’s the point of that?
I know March Madness is one of the (many) pre-eminent events on a degenerate gambler’s social calendar. In fact, I’ll bet CSzem has retreated to his man cave, placed some calls to his bookie, and will not return to civilization until Easter.
Unfortunately for your man Tewks, to be a degenerate gambler, you need money which is something that I don’t have. I consider myself to be a cursory viewer of March Madness. The first two weeks of play are always the most exciting for me because I can toggle between games and focus my attention on the close nail biters and possible upsets.
To keep myself accountable for my March Madness picks (guaranteed winners or your money back), I’m going to do this in stages. Today, I’ll pick the teams that I think will make it to the Sweet 16 and next Wednesday we will revisit the picks to see how I did.
How I pick winners is a very complicated scientific process that involves a number of large algorithms designed by a bunch of nerds at NASA. Basically, I pick the lower seeded team if the game involves a double digit seed. For all other games, I pick whatever school I’ve heard of before/would want to attend.
For example, if UCLA played the University of Alaska and they were both single digit seeds, I’m going with UCLA.
On to the picks:
Midwest Region
#1 Kansas (Some of you may wonder why I would rather go to Kansas than the University of Las Vegas Nevada. Because if I went to UNLV, I would be dead before first semester midterms)
#5 Michigan State (I saw all I need to see of Maryland on The Wire)
#3 Georgetown (I would love to be a Hoya)
#7 Oklahoma State (I have a soft spot for Oklahoma and the state’s Southern Belle inhabitants)
West Region
#9 Florida State (My upset special; and what a great place to go to college)
#4 Vanderbilt (It was them or Butler. I’m a fan of old money)
#3 Pittsburgh (I could live at Mario Lemieux’s house with Sidney Crosby)
#2 Kansas State (I am not going to school with a bunch of Mormons at BYU)
East Region
#1 Kentucky (John Wall is the only player in the NCAA that I’ve heard of before this week)
#4 Wisconsin (I wouldn’t really want to go to school in Wisconsin, but I have no idea what Temple is)
#3 University of New Mexico (It’s a depressing state, but it has great weather and I don’t know where Marquette is)
#2 West Virginia (Where the hell is Clemson?)
South Region
#8 California (I’d rather go to prison than Duke)
#4 Purdue (I am not going to an Agricultural and Mechanical school; I wouldn’t last the first day)
#6 Notre Dame (I would recreate every scene in Rudy every chance I could)
#2 Villanova (It sounds like a tasty dessert)
Good luck in your own brackets.
Happy St. Patrick’s Day!
I didn’t really plan on seeing She’s out of My League over the weekend, but the other choices at the theatre were less than stellar:
Green Zone? I‘ve already seen three Jason Bourne movies, thanks.
Shutter Island? I can’t watch scary movies.
Remember Me? How is that dolt from Twilight getting more movie roles? Is there that much of a need for brooding, excessively pale, monosyllabic douchebags in film these days?
Basically, it was decided to go with the lesser of evils. I wasn’t overly enthused with the previews that have been shown for She’s out of My League over the last few weeks. It just didn’t look that funny and they kept beating the “hot girl doesn’t wear underwear joke” into the ground.
The entire premise of the movie just made me upset and I couldn’t relate to it at all. Were we actually supposed to buy the ridiculous plot? Take their looks out of the equation for a second. I guarantee there is not a woman on earth who would be attracted to an insecure guy who can’t put a coherent sentence together because of nerves and has zero self-confidence.
It’s not ‘cute’ or ‘sweet’. It’s pathetic and a normal woman would get turned off by such behaviour by the end of date one.
Plus, I wasn’t in the target male demographic for the film. I have never experienced the problem of having a lady who is out of my league. I mean, let’s be honest, if you use the ‘10’ rating system, your buddy Tewks is like Spinal Tap: I go all the way to 11.
The only scenario where a member of the fairer sex would be so far above my level to be termed “out of my league” is if I tried dating the Princess of Monaco. Or Miley Cyrus.
All that being said, I thought the movie was fantastic.
It was really, really well done and had me laughing out loud throughout. The strength of the film was the supporting cast, especially Kirk’s (Jay Baruchel) group of friends. The scene stealer was, without a doubt, Kirk’s fat friend, Devon (Nate Torrence).
Devon’s lines were delivered with impeccable comedic timing and a perfect deadpan expression. As the lone married guy in the group, he loved living vicariously through Kirk and his dating exploits. Throughout the movie, Devon had a look of pure child-like wonder on his face at all times. It was hilarious. His riff on Aladdin and Princess Jasmine killed me.
Kirk’s family was also terrific in terms of craziness, complete with the off-the-wall and oafish, immature older brother.
The laughs were consistent throughout and, at times, you could almost believe that Kirk and Molly (Alice Eve) could possibly date in real life.
That all changed during the Third Act crisis scene where Kirk and Molly are about to get it on. Kirk has possibly one of the worst bodies I have ever seen in a movie. He makes Michael Cera in Superbad look like Matthew McConaughey. I literally had to avert my eyes when his chest came on the screen.
On the other hand, Molly’s body was . . . well, I am not a good enough writer to accurately capture such beauty. She looked unreal in that black bra and matching panties. So much so that I have no idea what transpired during that entire scene because I was so transfixed by her bountiful bosom.
I definitely recommend this movie for anyone looking to have a few laughs on a weekend night. In fact, I plan on having another viewing when She’s out of My League comes out on DVD to catch all the jokes I missed while laughing (although I don’t think I could watch Kirk’s pubic hair shaving scene again. Don’t say I didn’t warn you).
Verdict: 4 Huge Alice Eve Boobs out of 5
Today's episode of Talkin' with Tewks Live is pretty self-explanatory. CSzem and I discuss Tiger Wood's impending comeback to the game of golf; how much adversity will he face; does he have any fans remaining; how he will he play etc.
Talkin' with Tewks Live - Recorded March 14 2010
Enjoy.
What a great episode last night. Although, the stupidity and illogical thought processes of the Heroes tribe has me concerned for their sanity over the next three weeks.
What is going on with that tribe? It’s almost like they want the Villains to walk all over them at the merge. They constantly bicker back and forth and are more concerned with keeping their alliances than forming a strong tribe capable of, you know, actually winning a challenge.
Contrast their backbiting and pursuit of individual gain with the Villians’ cohesive, well-oiled unit. I mean the Villains were a guitar away from singing Kumbaya at the beginning of the episode. How Coach convinced the entire tribe (sans Russell) to take a Tai Chi lesson from him I will never know, but it’s indicative of how well their tribe is currently working together.
Maybe it’s because I’m a man, but I do not understand the wild reaction provided by the ladies when Probst told them of the chocolate reward. Really? Chocolate is going to get you that fired up?
I loved Colby’s reaction when Probst handed him the small pieces of chocolate as a tease. It was basically, “Get that shit away from me.” I would have done the exact same thing.
Speaking of the reward challenge, this may be in poor taste, but did anyone else find it funny that in a challenge that was basically a game of basketball, the black guy was the one who got hurt? Shouldn’t he have dominated that challenge?
What? I was the only one? Ok, moving on.
After James hurt his knee, Amanda said something extremely telling. Apparently, this is the second time a serious injury has felled James while playing Survivor.
Follow this train of logic: Steroids make you big and muscular. James is big and muscular. Steroids make your tendons and ligaments weaker because your body cannot adjust to that much muscle mass in a short period of time. James is taken down by a knee ligament.
Throw in his James’ bitch fit at the immunity challenge when he berated his blindfolded tribe members and it’s pretty evident that the guy is on the juice.
The Villains won the reward and got to ‘enjoy’ a chocolate feast. Was anyone else disgusted by the spread? That is the absolute last thing I would have wanted to eat. I guarantee every one of them puked their guts after eating all that crap.
Russell knighting Coach was one of the greatest things I have ever seen. Conversely, I really hate Parvarti. Can we agree that she is not hot? Her mouth looks like one of those carnival games when you have to shoot the water into the clown’s mouth.
The immunity challenge was great. It’s always fun to see blindfolded people try to complete simple tasks. The two best moments from that portion of the challenge were JT standing around by himself flailing at the air and Rob, after taking a few shots to the gut, walking around with one hand covering his junk.
How dumb are the Heroes? They have gotten destroyed in every challenge that requires just a modicum of brainpower. Are they really that bad at puzzles or are Boston Rob and the gang just that good?
The idiocy of the Heroes in the immunity challenge was surpassed only by their decision that James, with a full brace on his leg and unable to walk, was more beneficial from a physical standpoint than Tom.
Are you kidding me?
How could they even say that to Probst at Tribal Council with a straight face? You can tell Probst is getting fed up with this tribe as well. Their consistently stupid decisions are starting to piss him off as all of the drama built up through the season will be lost when the Heroes have one tribe member left at the inevitable merge.
It sucks that Tom was voted off. He will be missed. Colby is the only person I care about now on the Heroes tribe. I’ll give Tom the last words in the column, when he described James thusly: “All mass, no class.”
(Which is the same thing people say about my penis)
Why are we still talking about head shots? Why are general managers so reticent to ban vicious blows to the brains of their players?
Back in November, I covered this issue in some detail and proffered my own suggestions on how such wanton violence could be curtailed. Let’s revisit my hypotheses, shall we:
However, something needs to be done about head shots as NHL players have been dropping like flies with concussions in this fledgling season. The safety of players is paramount, along with their intelligence. Concussions have been proven to have adverse effects on mental acuity and, let’s be honest, hockey players can’t afford to be any dumber.
Everyone knows the danger and severity and concussions, but no one at the NHL seems willing to make a conscious decision to do anything about it. Not surprisingly, many of these guys are ex-players, which gives credence to my last point.
In terms of solutions to the head shot dilemma, here’s what I had to say:
To fix the problem in the NHL, forget about making the game less violent. To quote my buddy Brian Burke, “this isn’t ringette.” I think you have to look at the equipment. Players are ensconced in heavy duty plastic from head to toe: it offers too much protection. Guys race around the ice throwing their bodies at opponents with reckless abandon. Not to mention today’s players are so big and fast – it’s a recipe for disaster.
If you soften the equipment (especially shoulder pads), players will think twice about turning themselves into human battering rams. Less vicious hits, fewer concussions, safer playing conditions, better hockey.
It’s evident to me now that the dinosaurs running the game will never take progressive measures like softening today’s gladiatorial-like protective equipment, so I have come up with another proposal.
It’s exceedingly simple and I can’t quite figure out why the head honchos at the NHL are so slow to adopt this measure because they’re terrified of “taking the physicality out of the game.”
Any hit where just the head is contacted, by a shoulder or an elbow, is an immediate five minute major penalty and a game misconduct. A hit that contacts both the head and the body is legal.
For example, Mike Richards hit on David Booth and Matt Cooke’s hit on Marc Savard would fall into the former category. Alex Ovechkin’s hit on Jaromir Jagr in the Olympics would be in the latter category.
It’s impossible to eliminate head and body shots completely and players know there is an inherent risk in playing the game. Accidental blows to the head can occur because of size discrepancies between players, guys not skating with their heads up, or putting their bodies in a vulnerable position.
That being said, the Richards and Cooke hits were cowardly and deserved to be punished severely. The NHL really dropped the ball on that one.
Now, for a feel good NHL note. Chris Chelios, at the age of 48, has been called up to play for the Atlanta Thrashers after playing extraordinarily well in the AHL (plus 35 on the year).
Chelios made his debut in 1984. Let me say it again. He is 48 years old! I don’t think Papa Tewks could do a pullup when he was forty-eight and Chelios will be playing the NHL. It’s no secret how Chelios is able to pull this off as he keeps himself in tremendous physical condition. He could probably give me a run for my money.
I know Gordie Howe played in the NHL when he was 52, but, to me, this is more impressive. Back then, guys would smoke and drink beer in the dressing room after games. They considered offseason training to be a one mile jog on the first day of training camp. Now, guys train all year round and for Chelios to be able to keep up at that age is nothing short of incredible.
I hope he kicks ass. I would love for him to beat the shit out of Patrick Kane at some point over the next six weeks. That is my wish.
I’m a big fan of optimism. If I wasn’t, then my choice to pursue a career in the writing, film/TV or radio genres would be downright terrifying. But, I have an unshakeable belief in myself and my talents (some might say that’s my first problem).
Cynicism has never gotten anyone anywhere. It’s poison. Life is more enjoyable when you look at the glass as being half full. Surrounding yourself with negativity is a sure-fire way to become stagnant and watch life pass you by.
That being said, I think the gorgeous weather Southern Ontario is currently experiencing has adversely affected the rational and logic centre of baseball fans’ brains.
I’ve had two conversations with Papa Tewks and Gretzpo respectively over the past two days and they both are planning the World Series Parade for the Blue Jays based on the team’s 5-1 spring training record thus far and the plethora of young arms in camp.
The saddest part is that they were both serious.
I do my best to ignore the results of spring training games as their use as a barometer for future success is highly suspect. I do read player profiles and game notes, but I specifically avoid watching highlights and game action at all costs, so I don’t get too excited or too depressed for the upcoming season (Plus, I’m a little busy getting the thunderbolt called my left arm ready for my own baseball season).
Let’s tackle Papa Tewks and Gretzpo’s lunacy one point at a time. Basing any merit whatsoever on the final score of Grapefruit League games is dumber than using lottery tickets as a retirement plan.
Any player signed to a major league contract doesn’t give two shits how they play in March. Do you know the most pressing issues on an established veteran’s mind: When am I getting pulled from this game so I can squeeze in a quick nine holes before dinner and can I make it the entire month of March without breaking a sweat?
Then, you have the youngsters working their asses off and trying way too hard to be assigned to the major league roster. These guys are running full out on every play, stealing bases, stretching singles into doubles and throwing curveballs on 3-2 counts.
The veterans hate these guys. Especially older catchers forced to crouch for millionaire bonus babies looking to make an impression. Do you think a 35 year old guy with two bad knees wants to crouch in the hot sun for two hours while some first round jerkoff nibbles at the corners?
Therefore, you have half the players not giving a shit and trying their best not to get hurt and the other half busting their tails for an opportunity to head north with the big club. That is the worst possible combination for taking stock of a team’s chances.
While discussing the Jays novice pitching staff with Gretzpo, the question of who gets the Opening Day Start arose. Let’s look at five possible arms and you will see how depressing the 2010 season will be (Granted, I will concede that the Jays staff has a tremendous upside for years to come, but there will be significant growing pains).
Ricky Romero: The numbers choice. He’s the best pitcher remaining from last year’s staff (which is a terrifying thought in itself). Romero has great natural talent, but I think he’s a little bit of a diva. He has zero mental fortitude; he’s like soft-serve ice cream. His nickname should be Dairy Queen
Shaun Marcum: The obvious choice based on his 2008 numbers, except for the tiny, little problem that he shredded his shoulder and hasn’t pitched in eighteen months. Do you really want him facing other teams’ ace night in and night out?
Dustin McGowan: Another guy who didn’t pitch last year because of a shredded shoulder. The Jays should really think about trying Crossfit. I’ve never had an arm injury. What? It’s because I don’t throw hard enough? Touché.
Brian Tallet: Tallet’s much too inconsistent for this position. I wouldn’t trust him to start for my beer league team. The only time Brian Tallet should ever be considered the best at something among Jays pitchers is if they have a mustache growing competition.
Dana Eveland: An offseason pickup from Oakland. On the plus side, he’s a big, strong, hard throwing lefty. On the minus side, his name is Dana.
And that ends the Pu Pu platter of players auditioning to be Toronto’s ace. Still excited about a postseason run?
I have to admit, I was initially very worried about today’s column. Without The Bachelor to make fun of and dissect, was there enough going on the world of sports to write an interesting column?
My fears were assuaged once I found out that Ben Roethlisberger, quarterback for the Pittsburgh Steelers, never got the memo that ‘No means No’. For those of you not up to speed on the trials and tribulations of Big Ben, allow me to summarize:
Ben is currently being sued by a woman who claims he raped her in Lake Tahoe in 2008. Apparently, she worked at a resort in guest services, Ben invited her up to his room and then, according to the woman, raped her.
Some of you may be wondering why Roethlisberger is only being sued for the alleged rape and not facing criminal charges; I believe there was not enough evidence to file a conviction.
In this recent case, a 20 year old college coed accused Big Ben of sexually assaulting her in a Georgia nightclub, a charge which Roethlisberger vehemently denies. As we found with the Eric Tillman story, there are many definitions of sexual assault (Tillman was charged after grabbing a teenage girl’s clothed hips).
So, we don’t know exactly what Big Ben did to constitute the sexual assault. Interestingly, the police force in charge of the investigation said they have yet to take a DNA sample from Roethlisberger, but probably will.
Now, I have some questions.
I assume that the request for DNA means it is thought that Benny made a romance explosion somewhere near the vicinity of the supposed victim. How did said explosion take place inside the bar? For this to happen, that means that Roethlisberger’s Big Ben must have been out and ready for action.
No one else saw that? In a crowded nightclub? I could see if the sexual assault was just a question of Ben grabbing either the woman’s T or A, but for a specimen of Big Ben’s seed to be requested adds another layer entirely to this sordid affair.
There are usually two schools of thought when it comes to such accusations against high profile athletes and celebrities:
1. These guys are just assholes who think the rules don’t apply to them and they deserve any woman they want, regardless if she’s interested or not.
2. The women are nothing more than groupies looking to extort money from professional athletes. They hop into bed with these guys at the first sign of cash or fame and make up wild accusations when the guy in question wants nothing to do with them afterward.
Personally, I think it’s a mix between the two. Look at Big Ben. In his first case, the woman went to visit Roethlisberger in his suite to see if “he needed anything.” Seriously? We’re expected to believe this woman went up to Ben’s room with pure intentions?
If it was indeed rape, wouldn’t Roethlisberger be in jail right now? My feeling is that the sex, or whatever took place, was consensual and this woman decided to make up a story.
There’s a very good chance that this new case is the exact same scenario. The coed is looking for money or notoriety, so she makes up some untrue story about Big Ben.
The problem is that the stories are not mutually exclusive and the common thread is Ben Roethlisberger. One story, the media and public can dismiss it as nonsense. Two stories and then people start asking questions.
Typically, when there’s smoke, there’s fire.
It’s too much of a coincidence that Ben is not at fault both times. Something is definitely amiss. Maybe all Roethlisberger is at fault for is bad judgement. Or maybe he needs to realize that just because he plays in the NFL does not mean that every woman he meets can be his sexual plaything.
Before listening to today's podcast, I have to ask all of you to do a little research first. CSzem and I discuss the following two articles at length. The first details the idiocy of an American journalist who had the gall to compare Canada's patriotism at the Olympics to Nazi Germany (I'm not kidding).
Read it here.
The second discusses the moronic suggestion circulating around Parliament that the lyrics of 'O Canada' need to be changed to make it more "gender-sensitive" towards women. I can't make this crap up.
It's not hard to figure out where we stand on the above articles.
Talkin' with Tewks Live - Recorded March 7 2010
Post thoughts to comments.
Even though I’m ecstatic that spring training has started in earnest, which means that warm weather is right around the corner, I am somewhat melancholic at the news of Roy Halladay’s first Grapefruit League start.
He was typical Doc yesterday afternoon. In his two innings of work, only one batter reached base (on an error) and Halladay threw an incredible 21 strikes in 23 pitches. That type of perfection is unheard of, even from the best pitchers in the game.
Now, I have to listen to Phillies fans and the American media wax poetic on how great Roy is; something that we Toronto fans have known for years. It’s tough to listen to these guys fawn all over Roy, knowing that I will never see him pitch in a Blue Jays uniform again. He’s going to win thirty games this year and hopefully get the World Series ring he so richly deserves.
Truthfully, it’s going to be hard to be a Jays fan this year. I honestly don’t know if I can do it. Sure, I’ll watch the games and follow the team, but it’s going to take a little while for the team to gain back my fandom.
I’m kind of like a scorned politician’s wife whose husband cheated on her. Yes, I’m going to stay with him, but it’s going to take some time for me to forgive his infidelities.
What an excellent Survivor episode last night. After a lacklustre episode last week, Probst and company really brought the goods this time.
I feel remiss that I stopped watching Survivor before Coach’s inaugural season. I mean the guy is an absolutely tremendous reality show character.
For all of his egomaniacal blustering, he’s surprisingly deep and multi-layered. I had no idea that his macho act was such a façade and masked with such rampant insecurity. He’s also surprisingly feminine, evidenced by his teary, emotional blubbering when Sandra had the audacity to call him lazy.
The scene after Tribal Council when Coach was talking to Tyson just killed me. I was transfixed by what lay before my eyes on the screen. Tyson talking Coach off the ledge felt like a scene ripped from the script of Good Will Hunting.
“Coach, it’s not your fault.”
"I know.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Yeah, I know, Tyson.”
“No, no. It’s not your fault.”
"Don’t do this to me man. Not you.”
Boston Rob managed to smack some sense into the Dragon Slayer by basically telling him to man up and to find his nuts. Coach did an immediate 180 and compared himself to the Last of the Mohicans and King Arthur. Then, he quoted Confucius. I am in awe of the man.
The reward challenge felt like an episode of the Price is Right with all of the Sears products presented exactly like one of the Showcase Showdown prizes. Speaking of the reward challenge, how hot did the women look all greased up from that sliding track? That was as close to porn as you can get at 8pm on network television.
Danielle’s breasts looked AMAZING! They should really have their own tribe. They’re also the most interesting thing about Danielle.
James seemed somewhat subdued throughout this episode. Maybe Probst got him an extra HGH cycle or something. I was quite impressed that he didn’t punch Sandra in the face during the reward challenge.
Seeing Boston Rob and Russell square off against each other in a battle of wits is like watching two Bond super villains go head to head. I think Russell is, and should be, worried. He’s never faced an adversary quite like Boston Rob, which was evident when Rob once again dominated the immunity challenge with his smarts and puzzle prowess.
What a great move by Tom to get the immunity idol and coerce JT to switch alliances in a complete blindside of Cirie. She deserved to go, for the sake of North America to bear witness to more Tom and Colby interaction. They’re great, like father and son.
This is shaping up to be one of the best seasons of Survivor ever.
Now that The Bachelor is finally over, it’s time that I get back to my roots and talk about pressing sports issues. And not just discuss a topic from the world of sports by giving my admittedly uninformed opinion, but to ridicule and insult someone who has posited a contrarian viewpoint.
With that said, I have to give an assist to long-time reader, Thy Drunken Rookie, for bringing the source material for today’s column to my attention. It’s an article from Yahoo! Sports, by Ross McKeon, entitled ‘Good Show, but the NHL shouldn’t be Involved’.
Read it here before continuing so my forthcoming vitriol makes more sense.
McKeon’s article actually starts out overwhelmingly positive with his praise of Team Canada’s effort in the face of great adversity and knuckle-whitening pressure. He even points out how Sidney Crosby has been pilloried by those who foolishly denounce his greatness. A Stanley Cup and an Olympic Gold Medal at the age of 22 form just the tip of the iceberg of Kid Crosby’s eventual career accolades.
It’s at this point that McKeon opines that NHL players shouldn’t have played in Vancouver in the first place and the wheels completely fall off the coherency of his writing.
What’s fantastic about this article is that McKeon’s points are so stupid and suffer from a case of watching too much Jeopardy. Everything he says comes in the form of the question. Do you know why he does this?
Because it’s much easier to write a column and make a point that way without giving any real thought. For some reason, McKeon has decided to rest on the journalistic laurels the Yahoo! Sports department provides; The New York Times it is not.
Yahoo! Sports is to journalism what William Hung is to singing (Sorry, but I still have the Idol ladies on the brain after last night’s performances).
First, I would hardly call watching two weeks of the best hockey the world has to offer “good stuff.” Is Filet Mignon pretty good meat?
McKeon says that the ‘Miracle on Ice’ would have never happened had NHL players been allowed to play in Lake Placid. Look, the ‘Miracle on Ice’ was such a tremendous moment because of a confluence of factors, not limited to Communism, the Cold War and the fact Mike Eruzione hasn’t had to pay for a dinner in thirty years.
Yes, the American victory in 1980 would have been impossible with NHL participation (mostly because Canada would have run the table). That was one great Olympic hockey moment. Does anyone remember or give a shit about the winner of the gold in hockey in the Olympics before or after that moment?
Of course not, because, until 1998, the best players weren’t playing.
McKeon states that the NHL product has suffered due to the Olympic break because it’s led to rash of injuries and a watered-down product which adversely affects the paying customer.
He provides no statistics for his injury claim (he’s like my kindred writing spirit in that regard) and McKeon’s placing the blame on the lacklustre product on the wrong culprit. The Olympic tournament was great because THE BEST PLAYERS IN THE WORLD WERE PLAYING!
The NHL product sucks during the regular season because there are too many teams and front offices are forced to stuff their rosters with guys who wouldn’t make an AHL team twenty years ago. If the NHL would cut ten teams out of the league, the quality of the product would go up. It has nothing to due with guys having to play a few extra games a month because of the Olympics. They’re professional athletes for Christ’s sakes!
McKeon says, unequivocally, that the “Olympics should be reserved for non-pros. It’s as simple as that.” Yeah, that would be exciting. Have you ever watched the Spengler Cup?
He tries to use the World Juniors as an argument for the exclusion of well-known NHL stars. Sorry, Ross, but that dog won’t hunt. The World Juniors are great to watch because it’s the best under 20 hockey players in the world. That’s why that tourney is so riveting. No one wants to see a bunch of minor leaguers decide Olympic hockey supremacy.
Do you really think 26 million Canadians and 15 million Americans would have watched Sunday’s final if the teams were comprised of guys who couldn’t stick on the NHL’s already bloated rosters?
What would we be able to brag about? Our shitty players are somewhat less shitty than yours?
We should switch jobs, Ross. You’re obviously overpaid.
Great comments on yesterday's Bachelor recap. As promised, here is a podcast CSzem and I recorded on the After the Final Rose special. Unfortunately, there are still some audio glitches on CSzem's end, but what he says isn't that important anyway.
Plus, if this podcast thing doesn't work out, we can always take solace in our inevitable American Idol auditions next year. Trust me, the last thirty seconds is pure magic.
Talkin' with Tewks Live - The Bachelor
My newer readers may not know this, but this blog was actually started by a friend of mine, Gretzpo. This site used to be called Gretzpo's Sports Blog and it used to suck. Big time.
Is it a coincidence that the readership of this blog has exploded exponentially since I took over the writing duties and Gretzpo went back to pleasuring himself to pictures of Gregg Zaun? I think not.
I mean, just take a look at his guest column below (chock full of egregious grammatical errors; Mine and Tewks? Seriously?). Is it funny? Yes, moderately, but it also took him 5 days to write where I can pump out something much better in less than 90 minutes.
It's great to have you back, Gretzpo.
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Garbage Time with Gretzpo: An Olympic Advertising Hangover
Where have I been? Mine and Tewks writing frequency is inversely related to our professional success. I'm currently enjoying a meteoric rise in my industry – hence the sparse amount of posts. Tewks, on the other hand, has a T4 resembling that of the guy who begs for change outside of the LCBO.
This blog was like a son to me ... I raised it. And when I couldn't give it the time it deserved a part of me died ... but now Tewks is the one ... Tewks is the one who has to make sure this site flourishes.
With the Olympics over, I find myself yearning ... yearning for the collective groan of the audience when a female figure skater falls; yearning for the chance to see said female's buttocks as she picks herself up off the ice. I also yearn for pretending to be an expert in sports I watch once every four years – I yearn to scream at a short track speed skating official for a perceived foul.
Sometimes I sit ... and yearn.
The Olympics are crammed full of sappy, human interest stories that pull at the heart strings and make us care for Olympic athletes for 17 days ... and then forget about them for the next 1443 days – until the next Olympics.
But what are the Olympics without advertising? Thirty second clips that also aim to pull at the heart strings ... and make us buy things. One day after the Olympics that's what I'm finding I yearn for the most: horrible Olympic commercials.
My favorite commercial of the Olympics is the one where we see a father and son open up a new pair of skates, and the two go to an outdoor rink to try them out. Only it's the father who has the new pair of skates ... and it's the son who is teaching him to skate. Aww...
The director's cut of this commercial was never released: flash forward a year. The child is belligerent: he is cursing out his father in the dressing room after missing a wide open net in the “D” Championship game of his Wednesday night beer league. The father has failed his son ... he'll never make it to the NHL.
How about the one that tells the story of a Canadian cross country skier who broke her ski pole – but a quick thinking Norwegian coach gave her the pole he was using, allowing her to finish the race and claim a silver medal.
“And to thank the coach, we sent him some maple syrup – three tonnes of it.”
What the fuck is he going to do with all that maple syrup? It's almost as if we wanted to send an exorbitant amount of maple syrup just to confirm our own stereotype. We've forced him to become a maple syrup wholesaler – in a country that has absolutely no market for maple syrup.
“It's big”
“It's beautiful”
"Laid back”
“Sophisticated”
It's definitely my penis ... wait... what was that first one?
The commercial that pissed me off the most was for the Coors Light Beer Coozy.
“Excuse me ... you are Olympic Champion?”
No... he's a fat fuck with a douche beard that probably has four popped collars on under that winter coat.
Beer commercials aren't funny or clever anymore... I yearn for the days of, “If I wanted water, I'd just ask for water.”
Horrible Olympic commercials – I salute you. Your sappiness and maudlinism around the Olympics are as predictable as a Jeremy Wotherspoon 12th place finish.
Gretzpo writes seldomly for this publication
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