Quacey Frimpong

Hello neglected readership. Last week was a fluke, this week is a coincidence, and hopefully I’ll turn this into a trend. I want to tell you about the muse for this week’s blog. His name is Quacey Frimpong. At least I think that was his name. It was the name on the placard next to his teller window, so I assume it was him. I’m unsure because it doesn’t sound like a person’s name. It sounds like a style of underground Vietnamese table tennis. Do you train in a dojo on a mountain top to learn the essence of Quacey Frimpong? Does the fate of humanity hang in the balance of a Quacey Frimpong tournament? If so, to all of the players who are Quacey enough to play Frimpong, thank you for your sacrifice so that our way of life may remain untouched by the void of evil that seeks to unseat the champion of Quacey Frimpong.

I will never know the glory that comes with hoisting the Quacey Frimpong Golden Championship Skull.

Speaking of elite athletics, we are in the midst of the Winter Olympics in Sochi. I’ve watched bits and pieces of the games, but I haven’t gone full Quacey Frimpong about it. With the time difference and the constant flow of information, it’s tough to maintain suspense with every result being spoiled hours before broadcast. I do love how we treat every American victory over the Russians like the last five minutes of Rocky IV. It does give new meaning to the term “Cold War,” but Russia is hardly the superpower they used to be, no matter how many bears Vladimir Putin bludgeons with a shark on horseback. One event that has captured the ever-dwindling imagination of Americans is the story of Ice Dancing gold medalists Meryl Davis and Charlie White. The plucky youngsters who have been skating together for 17 years skated into our hearts and caused a lot of internal damage because ice skates are very pointy. They’re very talented but, since the surface of figure skating is inherently shallow, I find myself taking them, or rather her, at face value. What the heck is up with her face?

It’s kinda flat. It looks like she was the love child of the dish running away with the spoon. It’s very distracting. Every time I see her skate, this is what runs through my head…

Yes, I realize I’m a horrible person. Please to encourage me by voting for me in the 2014 Washington City Paper Reader’s Poll! It’s kinda like my Sochi, except without the stray dogs, the athletic achievement, or shoddy infrastructure. I think we can all agree that I deserve another term as Best Comedian in DC. Last year’s reign was cruel, but fair. Don’t do it for me. Do it for Quacey Frimpong.

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