TFATB Complete Winter Olympics Breakdown

With the Olympics in full swing, I’ve been able to digest most of the events. So with that, I think its time to break down everything I’ve watched so far:

Figure Skating

Some men stray away from watching figure skating in an attempt to convince people how not gay they are, but for me, figure skating is much watch television. I haven’t seen a gay guy jump like that since Magic Johnson. Say what you want about Magic, but for someone who spent most of his time on the “down low”, he got up pretty high.

I’m also completely in on any sport that allows you to wear a costume while competing. That should be implemented in other sports. Football needs glitter. Basketball needs sequins. Baseball needs jazz hands.

My one dislike is the brother/sister combos in the couples division. If your figure skating partner is your sibling, you should be disqualified immediately, and honestly arrested. I didn’t wait four years to watch “Incest on Ice”. I actually think same sex partners should be added to the couples competition. Not in a gay way, (not that there’s anything wrong with that), but just for the sake of pushing the sport forward. Imagine two dudes just absolutely tossing each other across the ice? Its one thing to toss a 90lb girl over your shoulder, but another fully grown man? That’s going to get you some extra points. Guys being dudes wearing glitter and tights. That’s sports the way they were meant to be played.


The bobsled is the Olympic version of an Uber Pool. You never see a black bobsled team though, and I think that’s because a black guy can’t go fast a vehicle without getting pulled over. Ask OJ.

What do you call a bobsled in the Special Olympics? A short bus.


Although snowboarding is seen by most as a sport dominated by white people, I tend it associate it just as much with the black community, because up until recently, neither were allowed on ski mountains. Unfortunately, snowboards still can’t vote. One thing at a time, I guess.


I watched the women’s Slalom the other night, and that was the second most impressive thing I’ve seen a girl do with a pole. The only difference is she hugged her father after she finished. One girl skis on white powder, the other snorts it.

If you compete in the moguls, you’re far from one yourself. Nothing more enjoyable than not having full use of your knees in 10 years. The fun part about moguls is, if you look at them from a distance, it looks like the mountain has herpes.

Cross Country skiing

Cross Country skiing is the perfect sport for someone who enjoys the physical aspects of skiing, minus all the fun. You know the shitty part of skiing when you have to push yourself from one chair lift to the other at the bottom of the mountain? That is an Olympic sport. People have dedicated their life to just that. They even added hills because that’s how big of creeps these people are.


The Skeleton is the fastest I’ve seen a white person go downhill since Johnny Manziel’s NFL career. The only thing I’ve seen drop faster is Hillary Clinton’s presidential dreams. The only difference is the athletes don’t feel the need to write a book trying to figure out what just happened.

Ski Jumping

I think ski jumping is a bit overrated. Like if I wanted to see a Canadian get impressively high, I’d watch an old Rob Ford speech.


The luge is basically the skeleton for pussies. Its the Olympic version of holding your nose when you jump in a pool. Its the saddest thing I’ve seen on ice since I puked at “Disney on Ice” in 2001. That’s a true story, and probably the most tragic thing that happened that year.


The biathlon combines skiing and shooting guns, two activities that us white people excel at. The only difference is you can’t ski inside a school. I mean you can, but its probably easier to buy an assault rifle than a pair of skis in America, so don’t yell at me if you’re offended. I’m far from the problem.


matt curling

No need to go into anymore detail here. This picture speaks 1000 words (and calories).


John Weir, King of the Gays

For me, the return of the Winter Olympics mean one thing, Johnny Weir is back. If you don’t know J-Dubs, he’s basically the John Madden of figure skating, but with much more sass and tighter hips. John Weir is unarguably the best at his job, and when I say job, I mean roasting figure skaters while wearing fabrics and furs I never knew existed. He’s also impressively gay. Like I could carry out a three way relationship with two other men, and still look like Mike Pence if I stood next to him. On top of being an Olympic commentator, he himself was also once a gold medal figure skater, and has also worked in fashion, music, advertising, and charity. All of this adding up to make him the ultimate Gay Swiss Army knife.

So as you can tell, I’m a bit of a John Weir superfan. John Weir is the gay best friend I never had (I think). Both of my dads think its gay that I’m such a big supporter of #Weirsanity, but if respecting John Weir for being at the top of his profession is a homosexual act, then call me, well, John Weir.

John Weir has made me realize that my biggest regret in life so far is playing hockey as a kid instead of figure skating. I was hitting the boards while he was bored of getting hit on. He was getting checked out while I was getting checked. I was cross checking while he was cross dressing. We lived parallel lives and I didn’t even know it. Hockey seemed like the right choice at the time, but if I knew puberty was going to leave dancer legs like mine on my doorstep, I think I would do it differently if I had the chance. (Just kidding, even for my sexually ambiguous online persona, figuring skating is a little too gay).

What I do need is John Weir to commentate Sunday Night Football. I’d much rather him talk about how ugly the Cleveland Brown’s costumes are than hear Chris Colinsworth spew gibberish into a microphone all night. John Weir is Tony Romo with more glitter.

All in all, John Weir can do no wrong (unless he moves to Russia or Malaysia). But until then, we’re here, we’re Weir, get used to it.

These North Korean cheerleaders are the definition of bad bitches


I’ll give them a 10 for choreography, and a 4 for the lyrics. Apparently there aren’t any Kendrick Lamars in North Korea. I never thought a two minute Youtube video could be such a roller coaster of emotion. I’m still not exactly sure what I just watched, but I need more of it. The fist bump sequence made me want to run through a brick wall (or iron curtain?). And then to follow that up with a little human wave action? Kim Jong Un is not fucking around this year.

Also, the man hanging out in the middle of it all is my new best friend. I have to respect how out of place he is. He probably bought that ticket on Stubhub, maybe got a deal because it was a single ticket, and thought nothing of it, until the usher brought him to the lion’s den of clapping. Then again, I shouldn’t get too attached to him, because he’s 100% dead by now. Kim doesn’t tolerate that lack of enthusiasm. If you sit there you have to be all in, or you’re coming out of that arena in a body bag. At least mix in some spirit fingers.

Before I saw this video, I was all in for a nuclear war, but now I’m a bit worried. Like if North Korea is putting this much effort into clapping, they’re probably pretty well organized on the military side of things.

This squad is the North Korean version of a March Madness bench mob, expect with less oppression and starvation than the NCAA.

I’m not gonna lie, the jumpsuits sort of do it for me. There’s something sexy about a girl wearing a full red winter jacket and snow pants inside. Snow pants are yoga pants with more functionality. Finally pants that keep you warm while still displaying your thicccness.

And lastly, if I can speak candidly in this safe space, this is not great press for the “all Asians look the same” stereotype. I’m not saying that they do, I don’t think that way. Everyone knows the only thing from Asia I generalize is Gau chicken. All I’m saying is if a blind man touched all of their faces, he would have a tough time telling them apart.