Ask Ping!Friday, April 8, 2011 | 9:40 AM
Why did Dean Wilson speak like a man wearing a lavender sweater draped over his shoulders driving with his life partner in a cabriolet during the 2010 season, but now sounds like Groundskeeper Willie in The Simpsons? Does the kid have a dissociated identity disorder? What's his next alter ego, J.J. from Good Times? The cringing I feel during his podium speeches has forced me to fast-forward any segment of the program where he speaks. Please have a word with Mitch and the boys to get Dean some help.
How can you blame him for his ever-changing dialect? His parent’s Scottish accent is thicker than a Japanese photo album, he spent his youth in Canada learning how to misspell favourite, Centre and checque, and now he lives in the land of bros and hos adding overused words like “dude” and “sick” to his vernacular. Poor bastard. I wouldn’t know what to make my voice sound like either. According to a source close to the team, Dean had been hiding his Scottish accent in recent years (keeping his kilt in the closet, if you will) but now he is letting it loose. The result has been (queue the bagpipes) a new and heavy Scottish accent on the podium and the most awesome pronunciation of the word poop in the history of bowel movements. “Peyuuop.” I’m really pulling for Deano to hit the podium these next few weeks so we can hear more. Now if we could just get Groundskeeper Willie to say it in a new Simpsons episode we would be winning.
Dear Mr. Ping,
I’ve checked every resource available and haven’t found an answer to this question: When did the definition of ‘fan’ (as in ‘fanatic) change? The Racer X website’s ‘Fan of the Week’ feature has left me rather confused. Last week’s representative was a faceless photo of some chick’s bum tightly wrapped in a Rockstar Energy Drink ad. (Ok, maybe it was paint.) Really? A piece of meat that keeps someone from falling into the port-a-potty and is also rented out for marketing purposes now qualifies as a ‘fan’ of my favorite sport? The vast majority of what’s posted in this feature (spokes models, random girlfriends and babies) couldn’t bench race their way out of a dry-rotted air filter. When the guy on the podium (other than Josh Hansen) thanks the fans, is he referring to the girl sitting next to me? When KW is called a ‘fan favorite’ does that mean all the spokes models and babies love him? Any clarification you can provide is greatly appreciated.
So, are you saying that you would like that feature to include middle-aged males with blisters on their right thumbs and abnormally rough calluses on their hands? These are the “real” fanatics of the sport, no? Are you really so uptight about how loosely we use the term “fan” that you are willing to bring your own heterosexuality into question? Because that’s the vibe I’m getting, Mr. Fancypants. Or do you enjoy the images that are chosen for the feature but you would rather that it be titled ‘smokin’ hot female of the week’ instead? That bodes much better for your status as a man but does little to explain away the huge stick that is clearly lodged up your rear end. Why don’t you just relax, enjoy the photos and argue with your guy pals about who is the bigger dirt bike fanatic on your own time. As you were.
Dear Racer X,
Hey guys, I believe I have developed a bad case of Mookie fever. Is there any cure for this!? Is so, please help.
Despite what some may tell you, there is no cure for Mookie Fever. Early symptoms include sweating, diarrhea and the urge to pump your fist and bark like a guest on the Arsenio Hall Show. If you have indeed been suffering from this terrible affliction you can go and get a prescription from your regular attending physician for ‘More Mookie.’ Symptoms may be alleviated by avoiding energy drink beverages, stadium hot dogs, Arsenio Hall reruns and by simply focusing on Mookie’s older brother and his on and off-track dramatics. I wish you the best of luck with your sickness.
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Playing soccer on 250cc motorcycles might sound like a strange form of riding, but in Russia they do it with great passion—and for very little reward. Page 112.