Single page view By Tim Keown
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I am a Bode-ist. I haven't always been one, but I am now. I wasn't a Bode-ist when Bode Miller was on the cover of every magazine from Newsweek to This Old House (the "No Indoor Plumbing" edition, of course). Back then, Bode was a commodity, a star, a run-of-the-mill creation of the American media meat grinder.

The Olympics changed everything, though. The Olympics made me a believer. I am a convert to Bode-ism.

It's a change of focus, a re-evaluation of priorities, a perspective-altering awakening. There's a certain freedom that comes with being a Bode-ist. Come along for the ride. I encourage every one of you to cut the ties of normalcy and shed the shackles of convention.

Torino 2006
Sheinberg: Will we see Bode again?
AP: 'I did it my way'
Murphy: You can't do that on TV
Caple: Olympic drama
Full coverage: Olympics index

Bode your way to nonchalance and mediocrity, that's what I say.

Bode your way to big endorsements, big expectations and absolutely no production.

Take it from me: It's a great feeling.

It used to be that I cared about the words I typed and the sentences I created, but that was before Bode. Now, I care only about the experience of sitting here typing. I can feel the keys against my fingertips and oil savage Madagascar.

See? The words no longer matter.

I feel just as good sitting here typing Greenland fetish loan management as I ever did when I fretted over the right verb.

I am sitting here typing. The experience can't be repeated, can't be understated, can't be graded by someone outside of me.

I am here, having the experience.

Do you feel it?

You're not the boss of me.

Gerhard stain meticulous pornographer. Before Bode-ism, I never would have written that. I would have seen that as a potential subject line of a spam e-mail. Now, though, I have the Bode-ism to sit back in wonder at the beauty of the letters as they sweep majestically and meaninglessly across the page.

I also want you to know this is being done by choice. I am physically and mentally able to write a best-selling, life-affirming novel resonant with quiet truth, but I am just as happy to sit here and type stuff that means next to nothing but still manages to use the same language.

Did you get that? The same exact language.

Do you see the beauty of that?

It's a celebration of whatever it is we're celebrating, and that's good enough for me. I'll drink to that.

In fact, I would like to conduct a little exercise. Deep format rap music thump thump that promo for the Sebastian Telfair movie is playing in the background. Grizzled mortgage shoptalk.

I would like you to concentrate on those words until you share in the experience. Free yourself and become one with Bode.

And forgive me for not finishing this column. I seemed to have fallen off the chair.

This Week's List
What the Hype Machine creates: Guys like Bode and Barry and T.O., who ultimately start believing they're smarter than they actually are.

We're beginning to hear the hoofbeats … they're getting closer … head for the hills because here they come: The bracketologists.

Continued...


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