Witz Pickz: Friday -- The F Stands for Failure

Oscar Pistorius AKA Cheetah Legs failed in his three attempts to qualify for the 2008 Beijing Olympics that begin on 8/8/08. His court ruling went in his favor, but he was then unable to beat his best time by enough to match the qualifying time for the individual 400m. He thought he'd be chosen for the 1600m relay team, at least as an alternate, but he was left off of that team as well-- most likely for someone who HAS LEGS. Now, I've clearly been on the douchebag side of the fence on this issue, and just want to let everyone know that I'm not changing my tune.

Now you might think that this proves that the cheater legs don't give him an advantage. That thinking is ridiculous and here's why: Oscar Pistorius holds the Paralympic Record for the 400m with a time of 46.56. This means that he should have a show on NBC called The Biggest Cheater. His bionic-legs have clearly given him an advantage, it just ALSO turns out that he's just not that good a runner. Huh.

And while I applaud his effort and think he is a courageous and strong and determined person, he's still a 21 year old kid who wants to win at what he does. One article states that, "The 21-year-old Pistorius, who said his legal battles prevented him from focusing on training, had acknowledged it might be more realistic to aim for the 2012 London Olympics." I'm gonna drop the name Lance Armstrong. And you know why? Because Lance Armstrong doesn't make excuses. He makes Tour de France victories. He beats testicular cancer and then rides one nut lighter to the top. Oscar Pistorius runs two legs lighter and installs CHEETAH LEGS and doesn't make the cut. He makes excuses. And I totally understand, because it's pretty obvious that I would be a professional baseball player if it weren't for my day job, mediocre hand/eye coordination and underwhelming dedication to my dreams. I guess we'll see in 2012 if Oscar "trains harder" or if his cheetah legs get a technical improvement.

The Assassination of Jesse James By the Coward Robert Ford:
I'm gonna write this now because I don't know if THIS MOVIE WILL EVER FREAKING END!!! I've sat down and watched three significant amounts of it and each time I start to believe the end is near, but it never is. And the problem is that it's not really exciting, or compelling, or viewer friendly-- it's just really well shot and oddly interesting. I genuinely want to know what happens, but then again, don't I already know? The interest comes in the acting and the relationships and seeing how they get from point A to point B. The problem is that point A started when I put the disc in and point B may or may not exist. It almost feels like how Aqua Teen Hunger Force described Highlander: "the Highlander was a documentary, and the events happened in real time!" Each minute drags out, and there are only so many times I can bask in the glory of a well delivered glare by Brad Pitt or a sketchy, mopey regret by Casey Affleck. I might shoot a documentary of the movie and me destroying it called, "The Assassination of 'The Assassination of Jesse James By the Coward Robert Ford' by the Patriot Witz."

Miscellaneous:

A goldschlager and coke is called a "Gold and Coke" and tastes like Christmas.
A goldschlager and Dr. Pepper is called a Dr. Goldschlager and tastes like Chanukkah.

I may smile and nod, but I still have no idea who or what Perez Hilton is.
Same goes for OJ Mayo, but he sounds like a bad breakfast combination.

I accidentally and awkwardly typed "One sex" to somebody on gchat instead of "One sec" and had to spend the next 20 minutes explaining how I am part of the One Gender Movement.

If I can't even stick to eating the soup I bring for lunch, how am I supposed to succeed at anything in entertainment? Maybe I was born without motivation and need to get some Cheetah Motivation installed. Worst case scenario, I eat more gazelle meat.

The Cobbler:
The minute I heard that my friend The Color Thiel Part 2 was going to the cobbler, I knew I had to go. It sounded delicious, and I also had no idea that cobbler's still existed. It seems like such a specific job that he MUST double as something else-- a cobbler/lawyer or a cobbler by night, but a Quizno's employee by day. But nope, there was actually a cobbler. I imagined some small man, probably Danish (which ALSO sounds delicious), who would hobble and cobble all day long and into the night as the job demanded. I pictured him sleeping in the back room with a small bed underneath the photo of his first and only love who died before her time (because if I'm imagining a cobbler, I'm gonna imagine one sad fucking cobbler). I also imagined that he could grant wishes, but I think I got that mixed up with something else. Anyway, I imagined so many things that I couldn't actually go in-- it would ruin the dream for me. Instead, I sat in the car and watched as The Color Thiel Part 2 made her way into the wonderland in which the cobbler worked-- or at least tried. Because The Cobbler, as I could only have hoped, had a door that worked stable style, with the bottom being closed while the top was open. Three times she tried to get in and couldn't, until finally, awkwardly, she had to shout for the cobbler to open the door. It was at this point that I was given but a single glance at the cobbler's white, Danish arm. That was enough for me. He exists. The Cobbler and perhaps many cobblers are out there-- anything is possible.

I really want a friend who's nickname is The Cobbler.
I really want to make a combination chocolate/cobbler bar called the Cobblerone.

Dr. Goldshlager's Cobblerone Bar,
Witz