Five-ring Circus

It’s All Over But the Shredding


Don’t player hate. Sno-bo-cross is the way of the future.

(Weaponized sno-bo-cross is the way of a bleaker, more dystopian, yet also far radder future.)



Oh, Lindsey Jacobellis. I would feel sorry for you … if I could stop laughing at you.

In the Slate D.C. office, we’ve been trying to come up with an equivalent sports catastrophe. There’s the Leon Lett fumble in Super Bowl XXVII, but that didn’t even change the outcome of the game. This may be an unprecedented instance of hubristic self-immolation. In the future (between heats of weaponized sno-bo-cross) we will talk about “pulling a Jacobellis.”


Multiple readers have asked us to chime in on the skeleton racer who is with child. Diana Sartor, a 35-year-old German, was nine weeks pregnant when she made her run yesterday. And she finished fourth! Had she made the podium, I really think they should have given her a second, teensy medal for her fetus. (Or am I in unsafe Roe v. Wade territory here? Does Olympic eligibility begin at conception?)


Well, I think that does it for this week’s dialogue. We had one writer drop out due to premature labor (And yeeesh, Dana, you might take your cues regarding duty and perseverance from Diana Sartor, don’t you think? Pregnancy is not a blank permission slip. Sure, she was only nine weeks, while you were actually delivering the baby, but I can see no real distinction there.) We also had one writer leave, but then come back—solely to rain on our sno-bo-cross parade. (Hater.) Yet through it all, we lived and loved and learned.

So, I’ll just wrap this up now, cruising into the finish line, pulling a back method grab …

See you all in Beijing,