(An occasional Jack Handey-ish series.)
I love sitting on my couch, watching the Olympics. Seeing people push themselves to the absolute brink of human possibility is always awe-inspiring and touching. Then I pop a kettle corn into my mouth and it comes to me: wow, I don't have the genes to be a physical athlete, but maybe I could be a spiritual athlete. Yeah...start praying regularly, taking Eucharist daily, fasting right. Then a commercial comes on and my inspiration breaks. I can't do this. I need to go to Old Navy. Now.
But I retire to bed after my quick trip to the Mall, with praise on my lips: "Go for the bronze, my soul. Go for the bronze. And now I have the boot cut jeans to do it in." Thanks, Olympians.