Smile Politely

Coulter admits it: he likes Dancing with the Stars

I got of box of those Klondike Choco Tacos the other day. I really enjoy regular Klondike bars and the advertisements for these ridiculous desserts sucked me in. It was okay, but it’s disconcerting to eat something that looks like a taco but tastes like something else. It suddenly strikes me that this entire introduction seems like it’s sort of dirty, even though it really isn’t meant to be. Anyways, I plan to use a lot of ellipsis this week … probably incorrectly. Fun … but not really. Let’s get it on.


There was a time I always carried a pocketknife. This time was when I was five until I was about seven. I mostly carried one because my dad carried one. He would use his to clean rabbits and birds he had killed while hunting. I would use mine to fight off non-existent monsters while I played in the barn. I stopped carrying the knife a long time ago, but I still kept it around.

Since I no longer carried it in my pocket, it sort of negated its usefulness. If I needed a knife for a job, I would go to the garage and grab one that was probably better suited than the pocketknife. It wasn’t handy, but it was safer. The last time I used my pocketknife, in fact, I actually cut myself. Either way, I decided to start carrying it again and it’s just wonderful. I’ve used it five or six times in a week. The best was opening my friend’s kid’s birthday gift. He seemed very impressed that I was armed and useful, so I suppose it’s nice to seem cool to children.

The worst part was being warned by all the adults at the party not to cut my hand off. Apparently all of my friends believe me to be a danger to myself … probably on multiple levels. My wife has also warned me to stop whittling while drunk, but besides that, it seems to be going pretty well and I’m sure it will eventually make me very glad I have health insurance.


I’m sure my life becomes a raging sea as soon as I say this, but this has been a really great season on Dancing with the Stars. Feel free to insert your own “Coulter is totally gay” joke here. Seriously though, it has been pretty awesome, so much so, in fact, that I actually started thinking about the show the other day when I wasn’t watching it. That sort of introspection really makes it not seem as great … even though it is great … really.

I’m not particularly clear how I started watching the damned show because it’s something I normally wouldn’t give a chance. I can only equate it to picking up a drunken hitchhiker and having him stab you in the ribs right after he pukes in your lap… and yet you still grow sort of attached to him and begin to drive him all over town once or twice a week.

I’ve watched it for about four years now and I always set the DVR in case something more interesting comes along … though I have no idea what that could be. The thing I should make clear is, the contestants on the show dance, but they aren’t especially stars. The final three this year were William Levy, Donald Driver, and Katherine Jenkins.

Wow, that’s a lot of star power.

William Levy is a Cuban-born actor/model. Apparently he’s considered the Latin Brad Pitt, which is probably an honor akin to being the Argentinean Mike Coulter. He’s a good dancer either way. Katherine Jenkins is a smoking hot Welsh classical singer. She’s been good from the start and she seems nice, but something’s just not quite right with her. Donald Driver is a football player and he’s pretty exciting. He’s also probably the only person to come to the contest in really good shape.

What do they all have in common? Well, they aren’t really stars, for one. I guess they are stars in their own little niches, but I only knew Donald Driver. The rest of the cast, whose asses have already been kicked to the curb, weren’t really stars either, except for Gladys Knight and she didn’t even have The Pips with her. Just so we’re clear, I’m not counting the guy who portrayed Urkel as a star either.

It doesn’t really matter who it is apparently, because I will watch it. Two of the three judges, Len and Bruno, seem pretty funny. The other judge, Carrie Ann, has evidently made it her life’s work to get on every last nerve I have in my body. The host is that guy who used to be on America’s Funniest Home Videos. He should some day be enshrined in the Hall of Mediocrity. Somehow it all works … at least it works well enough to suck in an idiot like myself.

It’s possible that the reason I watch it is because I have no dancing ability whatsoever, so in my mind it’s pretty impressive how good most of the “stars” get after a few weeks. They get more athletic and usually lose a shit ton of weight. By the fourth or fifth week, they seem like they actually know what they are doing. It’s bubble gum for the mind, no doubt, but sometimes bubble gum is okay … if you don’t chew on it for too long.


  • You wanna know a band who’s not very good? Maroon 5.
  • For the love of God, don’t leave cupcakes in the mud room.
  • If you check in at, you’ll notice that I’ve been receiving quite a lot of hats lately. Some day I hope to have enough to start an army, a terrible cardboard hat wearing army.

Buona Sera, senorina, kiss me goodnight.

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