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Armchair Observations: A Humor Column

By Matt Napolitano, Humor Columnist


I'll admit that my guilty pleasure on television is Dancing with the Stars. I don't know why but something allures me about that program. I don't know if it is the remarkable choreography, the glitz and glamour of the ballroom, or the fact that all those female pro dancers are smokin' hotties.

Earlier this week, Season 13 of the ABC reality show premiered with 12 mammals…I mean, celebrities…dancing for sequin-studded glory. 

Kicking off a night of dancing was Metta World Peace, formerly known as Ron Artest, the small forward of the Los Angeles Lakers.

Athletes are notorious for doing well on this show, unfortunately for Metta (it really annoys me to write that), was not as lucky. 

Dancing the cha-cha-cha to Pitbull's song, "Krazy", World Peace had as much coordination as someone failing a sobriety test. He scored an abysmal 14 out of 30. 

Funny enough that's the same ratio that Ron Artest was beating up on people at the Palace at Auburn Hills back in 2004.

However, despite poor scores, viewers worldwide were outraged and responded in fiery manner. Explosions were reported in Libya just minutes after Metta's clodhopping. Those explosions can only be linked to bad cha-cha-cha. 

Random acts of violence popped up across the globe and the only thing we can really do is blame the one-time Ron Artest.

Early Wednesday morning, President Barack Obama condemned Metta World Peace for his actions on the dance floor during a speech to the United Nations. Members of the U.N. Security Council are presently adapting a resolution on how to go about peacefully dealing with Metta and his concoction of steps done to a Top 40 club song.

The Security Council is expected to have a concept in place by early next week or whenever the next one of these articles comes out. All this reaction to one man's awkward dancing is alarming, particularly since this all happened before Nancy Grace went on stage.

It looked as though horror were to abound on a two left footed small forward out of St. John's but there was a saving grace (no, not Nancy, she stunk too). In this case, a fellow athlete came to the rescue.

U.S. Women's Soccer goaltender Hope Solo came out and perform a Viennese Waltz that can only be called the greatest thing to happen to television since color screens. 

It was at that second that all poor choreography was forgotten, all awful hip action, and all awful dying your hair blonde to look like a goateed Sisqo. Solo earned 21 out of 30, one of the better scores of the evening, and earned the praise of the international community for preventing imminent doom.

For the first time in the span of the Obama White House, Hope actually gave us change we can believe in.

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