I have been reading about cybersquatting. That was a new word for me. It sounds like one of those words created by the merger of two words. Many years ago when I was trying out for the Spelling Bee, a word such as that did not yet exist. Back then, the new merged words were mcmuffin, funkadelic and reintarnation. The latter word is defined as "being reborn, after death, as a hillbilly." I had trouble with that one. Because of that one word I never made the final Spelling Bee cut.
“Cybersquatting” sounds to me as a form of exercise that would hurt one’s quadriceps, glutes, hamstrings and calves. It also sounds hi-tech, as if one was performing the exercise with a laptop, trying to check email and instant messages or engaging in on-line gambling at the same time. Years ago I heard of the “dumbbell squat,” so why not a “cybersquat?”
I had forgotten most basic exercises after developing carpal tunnel syndrome from my long, repetitive use of the television remote control. As my arm is better thanks to good chiropractic care, I quickly went up to the Patrick J. McGeever Health & Fitness Center in a tucked-away section of Pottsville to get the lowdown on squats. Did you know that Pottsville has a habit of naming practically everything after local politicians? Pat, a fine person, was the former head of the Democratic Party, and I guess politics has something to do with health and fitness. Politics is certainly considered a sport in Schuylkill County, less popular than football or pigeon shooting, but far more popular than Canasta or midget wrestling.
The Center is very nice and I highly recommend it. But first you have to be good on directions or else you may end up driving for hours; too exhausted to perform any exercises once you arrive. But if you are fatigued, feel free to lay down on the trampoline. There is a chance you could become lost for days, so I recommend purchasing a GPS for your car before venturing there. If money is a problem, get a compass or look for the North Star. I am warning you, most of the whirlybird Medivac flights involve rescuing walkers lost on the way to the McGeever Center.
The trainer at the Center explained to me a basic squat. The squat is performed by bending the legs at the knees and hips, lowering the torso between the legs, and then reversing direction to stand up straight again. The torso remains relatively upright throughout the movement. It sounds simple enough, but I dare you to get up off your lazy boy rocker and try one right now.
I placed my laptop on the floor and went into the Patrick J. McGeever Changing Room. I needed to look my best before I could consider even doing one regular squat. I know that I have the God given talent to become the perfect cybersquatter. I glanced at myself in the large mirror on the wall. I looked so cool (no pun intended) after donning my mawashi. The mawashi, as you know, is the embarrassing silk ribbon that a sumo wrestler wears. Huff’s Sporting Goods used to sell them in downtown Pottsville when that area used to have stores. Maybe Ollies at the Cressona Mall has them if you are interested? Tell them trout sent you. Mawashis make great Christmas presents.
After I performed my Shinto ritual hand-clapping and leg-stomping to drive away the evil spirits, I was ready to perform a squat; my laptop was still on the floor. I wanted to master a basic squat before attempting a cybersquat. I am not sure if my knees gave out first, or my back. All I remember is getting assisted from off both the floor and the broken computer. I was quickly led outside to smoke a cigarette which I purchased from the Patrick J. McGeever Cigarette Vending Machine. I thought to myself, “I think I have just slipped a floppy disk,” as I slowly exhaled and cloud-like rings of smoke rose into the autumn blue Pottsville sky.
I then realized the evils of squatting, cyber or otherwise. Doctors had warned us of the inherent risks, but I failed to heed their advice as the only physician I ever had faith in was Dr. Pepper.
“Cybersquatting” sounds to me as a form of exercise that would hurt one’s quadriceps, glutes, hamstrings and calves. It also sounds hi-tech, as if one was performing the exercise with a laptop, trying to check email and instant messages or engaging in on-line gambling at the same time. Years ago I heard of the “dumbbell squat,” so why not a “cybersquat?”
I had forgotten most basic exercises after developing carpal tunnel syndrome from my long, repetitive use of the television remote control. As my arm is better thanks to good chiropractic care, I quickly went up to the Patrick J. McGeever Health & Fitness Center in a tucked-away section of Pottsville to get the lowdown on squats. Did you know that Pottsville has a habit of naming practically everything after local politicians? Pat, a fine person, was the former head of the Democratic Party, and I guess politics has something to do with health and fitness. Politics is certainly considered a sport in Schuylkill County, less popular than football or pigeon shooting, but far more popular than Canasta or midget wrestling.
The Center is very nice and I highly recommend it. But first you have to be good on directions or else you may end up driving for hours; too exhausted to perform any exercises once you arrive. But if you are fatigued, feel free to lay down on the trampoline. There is a chance you could become lost for days, so I recommend purchasing a GPS for your car before venturing there. If money is a problem, get a compass or look for the North Star. I am warning you, most of the whirlybird Medivac flights involve rescuing walkers lost on the way to the McGeever Center.
The trainer at the Center explained to me a basic squat. The squat is performed by bending the legs at the knees and hips, lowering the torso between the legs, and then reversing direction to stand up straight again. The torso remains relatively upright throughout the movement. It sounds simple enough, but I dare you to get up off your lazy boy rocker and try one right now.
I placed my laptop on the floor and went into the Patrick J. McGeever Changing Room. I needed to look my best before I could consider even doing one regular squat. I know that I have the God given talent to become the perfect cybersquatter. I glanced at myself in the large mirror on the wall. I looked so cool (no pun intended) after donning my mawashi. The mawashi, as you know, is the embarrassing silk ribbon that a sumo wrestler wears. Huff’s Sporting Goods used to sell them in downtown Pottsville when that area used to have stores. Maybe Ollies at the Cressona Mall has them if you are interested? Tell them trout sent you. Mawashis make great Christmas presents.
After I performed my Shinto ritual hand-clapping and leg-stomping to drive away the evil spirits, I was ready to perform a squat; my laptop was still on the floor. I wanted to master a basic squat before attempting a cybersquat. I am not sure if my knees gave out first, or my back. All I remember is getting assisted from off both the floor and the broken computer. I was quickly led outside to smoke a cigarette which I purchased from the Patrick J. McGeever Cigarette Vending Machine. I thought to myself, “I think I have just slipped a floppy disk,” as I slowly exhaled and cloud-like rings of smoke rose into the autumn blue Pottsville sky.
I then realized the evils of squatting, cyber or otherwise. Doctors had warned us of the inherent risks, but I failed to heed their advice as the only physician I ever had faith in was Dr. Pepper.
At that moment a Pottsville whirlybird landed and a medivac person approached, believing I needed assistance. I told him I injured myself while cyberquatting. When he told me cybersquatting was illegal in California, I responded, “So what! California is the state that allowed OJ, Robert Blake and Phil Spector to get away with homicide.” I was then strapped onto a stretcher and flown to my chiropractor’s office within seconds thanks to the Pottsville whirlybirds.
I would cybersquat no more.
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