A Website on the World Wide Web with writing by Laura Jayne Martin

This was first performed to a rabid audience at Laugh Lounge 151 Essex St, NYC.

I’ve been watching a lot of ESPN 2 lately.  It’s a cable sports channel, ESPN two. I’m not sure if it’s the numeral “2″ or if the full title is ESPN junior.  I prefer to think of it as ESPN: the Sequel. We’re not talking better, stronger sequel like Godfather II.  This is more like Basic Instinct II.  They follow the same recipe but use all the wrong ingredients.

It started with the World Cup.  You may not or may not be familiar with the World Cup.  It’s like the World Series of soccer, only in this version for some reason America doesn’t square off against America.  I don’t actually care about soccer; it’s just that those Adidas commercials were so moving.  If warring factions in the Ivory Coast can call a truce for this thing, I can probably leave it on in the background while I wash my floor.

I didn’t know how easily it would slide into my routine.  Now, it’s ESPN 2 in the foreground and cleanliness has gone out the window. I tell you this as a public service announcement—much like Helen Hunt leaping out the window in a drug-induced hallucination in the ABC after school special Desperate Lives.

When the World Cup ended it felt like a head butt to the chest by a Frenchman.

I couldn’t shake ESPN 2.  Now, I find myself awake at three o’clock in the morning watching the Paintball Championships.  This is when two teams of men compete to find out who is furthest regressed into childhood (for reasons undisclosed).  The object is to hide behind giant Dorito chips and shoot your opponent with paint pellets that explode when they strike.  Basically, it’s a glorified food fight (with a National Championship), and I love it.

Or I thought I did, until I stumbled across the greatest and most addicting ESPN 2 competition of all: World’s Greatest Dog Championships.  This is not to be confused with the Annual Thanksgiving Day Eukanuba Dog Show.  Don’t confuse them.

Truly the Christmas pageant of Thanksgiving, “Eukanuba” identifies its winner according to breeding standards, canine dental hygiene (which dogs floss twice a day), and a swimsuit competition.

On the other hand, World’s Greatest Dog Championship identifies its winner according to which dog is simply “the greatest”.  Those of you naive enough to believe “greatness” is a relative term with varying definitions, clearly are ignorant.  You have also never watched World’s Greatest Dog Championships.  Maybe you enjoyed Eukanuba while digesting your turkey, but you’ve never witnessed WGDC. One is a show the other is a championship.  Would you confuse Miss America with American Gladiators? (Actually, you might, both have oiled-up contestants and America in the name.)

When it comes to the dog shows let’s just say, one is a rich tradition of showmanship the other, the dog equivalent of the physical challenge in Double Dare.  The World’s Greatest Dogs are pitted against each other on teams with names like: Pawsitivity Power, Northern Blasters Ultra Storm, and my personal favorite “Total Anarchy”.

This Championship unleashes its memorizing fury from the very first second. Doggie relay races open up the competition, both freestyle and seven-legged. Doggie Greco-roman wrestling follows, giving way to doggie uneven bars, and by the time they reached the doggie macaroni wreath war—I didn’t remember my own name.

It was a doggie decathlon and when the day was over only one mystery remained: Why were the owners wearing sports gear?  I know I saw two women in sports bras slap five after the doggie table tennis semi-final.  In my mind, humans are relegated to the sidelines in a coaching position. If anything they should be wearing a suit and tie like in the NBA. If anyone should be high-fiving, it should be Rocket and Scooter after their 10-nil shut-out.

I thought about writing a letter of complaint to the World’s Greatest Dog Show or even ESPN, the second.  But then Magicians of Billiards came on, and I had wanted to rewatch the Grandomino competition, and I knew the Air Guitar finals were on at six.