There have been a lot of pixels spilled about what’s going on in Sochi, Russia in the final hours before the Olympics officially start.
Most of it is about how jacked up the hotel rooms and toilets are for the journalists who are arriving to cover the games. It’s funny, at least to those of us who aren’t there.
The fact that Russia won the “bid” to get these Olympics in the first place is a testament to how corrupt the Olympics are. Sochi is just about the worst place in that backassward country to have Winter Olympics. It’s a seaside resort town that doesn’t get all that much snow. It was woefully unprepared six years ago, and is now just a little big less woefully unprepared now. That fact that the Olympics are there is almost undeniably because Russia bribed IOC officials to get the games. They beat out Salzburg, Austria to get the games. Salzburg. One of the most culturally significant cities in our world, in Austria, one of the most idyllic places to have any kind of outdoor winter competitions.
The story that is more important than whether you can flush toilet paper in a brand new hotel in Sochi, is the one about the dogs and cats.
For whatever reason there are shitloads of stray dogs and cats roaming the streets of Sochi. Most of them are very friendly, and surprisingly healthy looking. Journalists have taken to them. Mostly because they know the Russian Olympic organizers have hired people to kill them. The dogs and cats, not the journalists.
Keith Olbermann went into great depth about it last night. He has been known on occasion to go overboard. He didn’t on this issue.
I will admit straight away that I am incredibly biased on this issue. I have two dogs and a cat. They are the best, and I like them more than I like just about every person in the world.
The mere thought that had they been born in Russia instead of in Arizona and Illinois, that some asshole with a gun full of poison darts would shoot them, or someone would intentionally feed them poisoned meat makes me want to punch things.
I know some of you feel similarly. So I’m going to provide a handy service. I’m going to demonstrate how you can talk to your dogs and cats about the Sochi Olympics.
OK, Suzi, Dave and Beasley could you come here for a minute? I need to talk to you about something.
Are we going for a walk? I’ll go get the leash. Or wait, maybe you should drive us someplace first, then we can walk. And stop for ice cream.
Ugh. I am not going for a walk. Ice cream does not sound like a bad idea though, bring me back something. I still have eleven hours of nap to fit in today.
I got the ball in case that walk was still a thing. I’m not really opposed to ice cream though. Oh, and somebody may have pooped by the TV again. I’m not naming any names.
But it was me.
We’re not going for a walk right now. I wanted to talk to you about what’s going on in Sochi.
I can tell you what’s not going on in Sochi right now. My ice cream. Maybe you could just send us all a Tweet while you head out for the ice cream. I’ll unblock you.
This will just take a minute.
You know we have no concept of time. You leave the house for five minutes or five hours, we have no idea what the difference is. Wait, did we already have ice cream? If yes, I’m going to need some more.
There’s some bad stuff going on in Sochi right now, with stray cats and dogs.
Are you unbanned from Twitter yet? I remember that was a thing a while ago. You kept going on an on about it. That’s just about the time Dave blocked you, I think.
No, I blocked him when he was tweeting about his stupid little soccer team. It’s bad enough we have to listen to him yell things at the TV when they play. Like he even knows the rules.
I just checked my beard, we have NOT had ice cream yet. Maybe you could get on that, Skippy. I call shot gun!
How did you do that?
Guys. Knock it off. I don’t want you to get caught off guard by this Sochi cat and dog stuff.
Tell your story driving, Miss Daisy. By the way, it’s snowing again.
I’m good here. You guys go get the ice cream. I’ll watch Olbermann and fill the two dopes in when you get back. Anything chocolate is good.
Oh, and we’re not watching the Olympics this year. Fuck ’em.