I watched two rounds of Olympic boxing last night. I knew nothing about the fighters. I had the sound off. I told Max, "Man, this dude from the United States is just destroying this guy." At the end of the third round, the judges gave it to the other guy. I went down and Googled it. It appears I wasn't alone in my opinion. Boxing is crooked at every level.
If you're not listening to Fr. John Riccardo, you're missing out. Then again, he relentlessly plays Matt Maher's "Shout of the King": a few minutes before each episode, a few minutes after each episode, in most of his commercials. I have no problem with Matt Maher, but that song has grated on me so much, I can't bring myself to listen to Riccardo any more. Fr. John, if you're reading this: It's the Year of Mercy! Show mercy! Change your theme song!!!!
Twenty-five years with my bride today. Okay, she's not my bride and, to be honest, I kinda loathe it when husbands refer to their long-time spouses as "brides." I don't know why it bothers me, but it does. Thing is, Marie could pass as a bride. She's as pretty as she was when we first got married. Every guy says that out of obligation. I'm dead serious.
I really like to watch sprinting. The 100M is the best ten seconds in sports. And Usain Bolt is the man. And he's Catholic.