Sometimes I’ll catch myself slouched over at my desk with spectacularly awful posture. I’m talking about that special breed of bad posture — the kind that makes me instantly feel guilty for how I’m treating my body. It’s like I’m raping my lower back. With extreme sluggardness.
But I don’t notice the problem right away. Not at all. Not until I happen to sit up straight and marvel at the SHEER ANGULAR DISTANCE my spinal column just unspooled in order to get vertical. Because the difference between how I WAS sitting and how I’m sitting NOW is all kinds of shocking. And rather disheartening. (THIS is what good posture feels like??? GAH!! IT BURNS THE SPINE!!!) Plus, this new upright position will inevitably make me feel like that asshole from The New Yorker, all stiff & uppity and mocking poor people for sport. But I certainly don’t appear like that to others, of course. It just feels that way. It feels that way because for the last six hours I’ve been slumped over my keyboard like a fat bag of soup. That is not a pleasant realization.
Fascinating, right? Not at all?? Good. Then the time is right for us to adjourn to the mountaintops of Motegi. You are now ready. Five Pagodas for that which was decidedly awesome … one Pagoda for that which was uncomfortably pathetic and/or Marty-Reid-ish. My call.
* * *
Jack Arute sweats profusely, appears disheveled — 3 Pagodas
From the looks of things, Jack ran the 62 miles from the hotel to the track whilst pulling a rickshaw, quickly threw down some jalapeño burgers & “saki bombs,” and then immediately went on air. But not before spending the previous 36 hours sleeping in an infield smokehouse, probably!
Starting command — 9,328 PAGODAS!!!! AAARRGGGHH!!!!
SWEET MOTHER OF MOTHRA I DEMAND THAT THIS BE MY ALARM-CLOCK CHIME EVERY GODDAMN MORNING!!! And thanks to Shane Rogers, such wonders are now possible. Here, take a listen. I’ll wait.
[rocks the double-handed SHOCKER sign while headbanging the wall]
Holy shit. HOLY. SHIT. That is BEYOND magnificent. It is MAJESTIC!!! I now demand that ALL of my mornings be kick-started with it. The alarm will go off and that guy’s voice would ROCK THE HOUSE at 190 decibels and I will instinctively react as follows:
- wake up ENRAGED & focused
- instantly ninja-flip to my feet
- ferociously nun-chuck a hole through the wall toward the bathroom
- CRANE-KICK THE TOILET SEAT UP BECAUSE F–K YOU, THAT’S WHY!!!
- expel EXCELLENCE
- dominate the day that lies ahead
It’ll be like starting each morning with an equine-strength shot of meth STRAIGHT TO THE JUGULAR. ATTAAAAAAACK!!!!!
So yeah. I rather enjoyed that lively fellow.
Sato did not explode any cars — 5 Pagodas
A shocking turn of events, really. This is like Bob Sanders playing an entire quarter of football and NOT shredding every tendon in his body AND OTHERWISE RUINING MY LIFE.
Let’s hear from young Master Sato, who is still riding high … but handling the accomplishment with grace & quiet dignity. Takuma?
Indeed. Such poise. Such presence. Welcome to Sato Country, bitches! WELCOME TO MANDOM.™
Danica moves up 7 spots … without passing a single car — 1 Pagoda
Good ol’ Motegi. It’s just like Mid-Ohio … BUT EGG-SHAPED!!
Helio wins — 2.5 Pagodas
Well of course he does.
I’m not saying it’s not well deserved, because it certainly is. I’m just saying that if you’re THRILLED by this & were ardently hoping for it to happen & you don’t work for Roger Penske, then I hate you. Truly. You’re the type of dirtball who reads “The Little Engine That Could” and immediately starts rooting for the HILL. Shove off, Frenchy.
The VERSUS.com Chat – 4 Pagodas
It was a success, I’m told. A good time was had by all, and many performed quite admirably. But not me. I do not tolerate these things well. Lindy does, but I don’t. Because whatever it is that allows her to calmly keep her head & respond to 900 comments at once, I don’t have that. I have whatever the opposite of that is. (A cerebral infarct, perhaps?) Between administering the Chat, signing people in, handling breakdowns in the system, mainlining coffee grinds, getting yelled at by Versus.com higher-ups for insinuating that Arute snorted 9 cubic tons of coke, trying to read what 7,500 people are saying in real time, hosting houseguests AND watching the race … well it was all so disorienting & frenzied & I felt like a stroke victim roughly 17 seconds in. And it only got worse from there.
Ultimately, as this photo shows, I went mad and set fire to my computer and just paced around my garage crying softly & whistling Rick Astley tunes. Tough night.
Motegi’s place in the schedule — 1 momentum-killing Pagoda
We covered this last year. And now we’re pretty much in that same boat. It’s a rickety boat, for sure, all barnacled & broken — one that will putter into the Miami docks some 19 lunar months from now. GET READY, EVERYONE!! WHO’S FIRED UP FOR THE SEASON-DECIDING CHAMPIONSHIP NOW?!?! Ugh.
Perhaps we didn’t take full notice of it beforehand, but now that we’ve looked at the calendar and MARVELED AT THE EXTENSIVE LENGTH OF TIME between Kentucky (Sept. 4) and Homestead (Oct. 2) … well it too is an unpleasant realization.