I'm operating on about two minutes' sleep today because my daughter decided that having a hacking, phlegmy cold was not only a great way to spend a winter's week, but also a terrific expenditure of my sleep time. And I agree. Who needs slumber and dreams of Pippa Mann inexplicably riding over a hill on a horse dressed in a firesuit and carrying a box of Long's Donuts, when you can instead enjoy yells of, "DAAAAA*hackchokecough*AAAAAAAD!" every 27 minutes?
But neither rain, nor sleet, nor dark of night, nor Mucinex dosings shall keep me from my appointed rounds. The Paddock Pulse shall go forth BOLDLY and on time, rending the darkness of the blogosphere with its eye-searing brilliance. For the Pulse cannot be stoppZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...
Take a Step Forward, Marco [15 Days in May]
Garth Algar (Mike's gonna RUE the day he picked that as his nickname) thinks that Marco Andretti is ready to be the face of Andretti Autosport. Me? I think I'm gonna go further than that. I think that Marco's ready to be the DIAMOND-ENCRUSTED GOLD-PLATED GRILLE of Andretti Autosport. BLING, YO. 'Cuz that's how he rolls.
Now Is The Time To Market Simona [IndyCar Advocate]
Personally? I think the time to market Simona was the point when she escaped from a blazing inferno of a race car - as well as a too-enthusiastic yanking from her cockpit by a guy that seemed bent on separating the cartilage from her ribcage - with a wry grin and a wink. But, I suppose, better late than never.
Dario delights at the CME [More Front Wing]
Those of you picturing Dario Franchitti at the Canadian Motorsports Expo as a kilted bagpiper standing amidst a field of moose with flames and racing stripes painted on their antlers in the middle of a -80 degree thunderblizzard really should be ashamed of yourselves for your typecasting of Canada. Everyone knows there'd be poutine too.
Randy’s First Real Hiccup [Oilpressure]
The real question is, how do we cure Randy Bernard of his hiccups? I'm a real fan of the "stand on your head and drink a glass of water" method. Not because it cures hiccups, but because it makes the hiccupper feel so stupid (and, occasionally, prone to drowning) that he'd rather die than get hiccups again. He'd literally rip out his own esophagus rather than go through that trauma twice. And that, friends, is ENTERTAINMENT.
What Constitutes a (Racing) Journalist? [Open Wheel America]
I hate to detract from Simba's article, but what really constitutes a racing journalist is Red Bull and fatty deposits in the arteries. And about 70% water. It's SCIENCE, people. They tried to autopsy a racing journalist once, and all they found was media-center-buffet potatoes lodged in the guy's gut. True story.
Talking Dirt [One Lap Down]
You need to read this article, if for no other possible reason than the fact that it contains more colons than a proctologist's secret fetish room. I know, I know, that was a really crappy joke. I am flush with embarrassment. I shouldn't be so cheeky. ANUS.
Driver Tweet of the Week
@paultracy3: @TommyKendall11 the only big break your going to get is when i hit you with a bat the next time i see you ...
Larry McReynolds must have used tools for so long, he became one.