Dancing in the Stars
I have to admit that I wasn’t on board for this whole Dancing with the Stars business. I refused to watch my childhood hero (Emmitt not Mario) gyrating and whatnot.
Next time they need to get a fat ex-NFL player to compete. First, Jerry Rice gets second place and now Emmitt Smith wins.
Time to bring in “The Fridge.”
Happy Feat
Yes, yes, y’all. Emmitt won last night and, although Mario and Karrrrrrina filled me with Mucho Raza Latino Pride, Ese, I had to go with Emmitt Smith as the favorite.
We (my wife and I) had voted for him several times until this week when we missed the phone deadline and were loath to register with ABC.com (no, I don’t need 100 e-mails in my inbox about your new show Daybreak).
Mario is technically the better dancer, but Emmitt just looks so damn happy out there. His feet are a marvelous sight as they do their thing, he does very funky-chicken looking things with his beefy torso and he had the temerity to go into the finals doing the MC Hammer! My God! What’s not to like?
We took to calling him our Chocolate Bear, as if he were somehow Built for Cuddlin’™. All I know is that dance can be a joyous thing, and Emmitt pretty much embodied that in a shiny muscle shirt and matching shoes from week to week.
He was a true winner, winner, chicken dinner.
Next week
No comics this week. Sorry for the inconvenience. We’ll be back on Monday the 27th.
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