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Posted by on Jul 31, 2012 in Blog, Rants and Raves | 6 comments

When Masterbation Becomes an Olympic Sport

 

volleyball-team-olympics

 

Passing through a crowded casino this weekend, I couldn’t help but notice hundreds of people – primarily men – crowded around several television screens at one of the bars.

So, what were they watching?  It’s not football season yet, and no one gives a shit about baseball, at least until the playoffs begin.

Answer — the 2012 Olympic Games.

More specifically, the men were watching women’s beach volleyball.

Right.  You’re thinking exactly what I’m thinking.  I’m sure most of those guys with their eyeballs glued to the television screens really gave a flying rat’s ass that the United States was playing Australia in a preliminary medal round.  Hell, it wasn’t even the finals.  But for many of those men, no doubt, the match concluded with one hell of a climax.

Beach volleyball?  Don’t call this charade a sport.  It’s the world’s largest masturbation festival — plain and simple.  It’s a cum-dumpster parade.  Women in panties prancing around in the sand.  They might as well be having  a pillow fight or wrestling in jello.

Confirming my suspicion that most of the viewers had no real rooting interest in the Olympic match other than the tits and ass tally, sometime later when I passed through the same area after dinner and this time men’s volleyball was being shown, virtually no one was watching.  MENS VOLLEYBALL.  Poof!  Everyone was gone!  I don’t know — perhaps someone yelled “fire” inside the casino and I missed it.

The bottom line is, most of these gold medal events aren’t really “sports” at all.  They are excuses for getting as many athletes from as many nations as possible into a televised viewing frame so that as many products as possible can be plunged down our throats in the form of a non-stop parade of commercials.  That’s it basically.  The Olympics are nothing more a delivery device for rampant consumerism — be it cell phones, sports cars, or soft drinks.  It’s the globe’s biggest assembly line for product placement — on every wall, on every uniform, on every sign, on every conceivable frame of real estate that might possibly be viewed by someone, somewhere.

Which brings me to what should be the Olympic Games’ most expensive product platform — the ASSES of the volleyball girls.  Hell, that real estate is more prime than a penthouse on Central Park West.

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Posted by on Jul 27, 2012 in Las Vegas, Personal, Rants and Raves | 3 comments

Nolan Dalla Rants: Do Not Tread On Me

Running in The Lakes of Las Vegas

 

This is an all out declaration of war.

If you’re one of the fucking idiots who consistently drives in the RIGHT-HAND LANE….if you are one of the obnoxious jackasses oblivious to those who casually stroll along on sidewalks making our daily walks and runs….if you selfishly barrel through busy intersections like the ass-joker that you are….I’m issuing you a full-fledged warning.

From this moment forward, I will no longer be responsible for my actions or what happens to your vehicle.  Prepare to meet my middle finger.  Prepare to hear the blasting of my horn.  Prepare for my flashing headlights.

It’s WAR.

I am making it a mission to improve traffic flow.  I’m making it a mission to save both time and energy.  I’m making it a mission to reduce needless vehicle emissions.  I hereby declare that the RIGHT-HAND LANE is only for entering/exiting the roadway and for making right turns.  Nothing else.

And now let me explain why this is such an outrage.

I’ve taken up running the last several months.  In virtually every city I’ve visited since I began my training program, I observed a consistent pattern of unmistakable rudeness.  Often when running along a sidewalk, perhaps no more than a few feet from the right-hand traffic lane, these brain-dead jokers completely oblivious to common courtesy roar past me like out-of-control freight trains.  These vehicles race by in a mindless stupor, blinded to any manifestation of humanity.

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