PASSION LIVES HERE

If you've been watching the Winter Olympics then you're already privy to the startling revelation that the slogan of the event has provided: passion lives in Italy. Torino, Italy, actually. I know it seems crazy, but it's out there for all to see, plain as day, on the all-knowing tube: "Torino 2006: Passion Lives Here." I know what you're thinking. The money poured into online dating services, the time spent in therapy, the trail of broken hearts, the wake of shattered dreams, the riches accrued by two-bit self-help book writers, the crying, the french manicures, Dr. Phil...all completely unnecessary. The whole time, the whole gut-wrenching, life-changing, plate-throwing time people could have been hopping on planes to Italy and finding passion--just like that. See, pictured above is the real Torino, Italy. That's where passion lives. That's where couples can go look for it. It lives there, bro, so even if it's totally incapacitated at the moment it has no choice but to unincapacitate (sp?) itself. It has to sleep. Just like the rest of us. So you just have to hang out for a while. Smoke a stoge. No big whoop.

But I also know you're thinking something along the lines of the following: "Ok, so I'm kinda mad right now, like, it's totally cool that we know where passion lives and all but, I mean, it's kinda fucked up that they've been keeping that shit from us." Yeah. I think that too. As if we're not gonna be all "where does happiness live?" And as if lots of fat people aren't going to be like "but where does restraint live?" And I mean who doesn't think all the whores and drug addicts aren't going to be steady crawling out of their holes all "where does class live?" It's ridiculous. It's unfair. It's unternationally approved.

Also, curling is mad funny.