Now, listen to the audio version of this post.

So, this happened. Don’t pretend it didn’t.

On the first day of women’s nationals, NBC brought us a protracted Bela gargle masquerading as a profile of how the Karolyi ranch has shaped the last nine months of American gymnastics, starring Laurie Hernandez, that picture of Kerri Strug, and some of a camel.

Let’s begin, shall we?

The voice of Kristen Bell greets us to tell us that it has been a year since her best friend, Lilly Kane, was murdered.

Probably at the ranch.

As Kristen explains, there’s a place that’s known all around the world simply as “Martha’s Secret Forest Murder Camp.” Or, I mean, “The Ranch.” Yeah, that’s it. That’s what everyone calls it. Nothing else.

It welcomes dreams, desires, dedication, and like not even that many torn ACLs anymore I swear.

Meanwhile, Bela is busy disposing of the body.

Unckie Bela is just sort of committing random and unnecessary acts of deforestation—if a tree falls in the forest, does it say, “YOU CAN DO IT”?—while sliding into your nightmares like…

BA-dum. BA-dum, BA-dum.

Apparently, Bela is the star of gymnastics, which is why it’s important to profile him for 98% this piece even though he has nothing to do with the current program or gymnasts and has basically been dead for 10 years. Don’t forget your history, guys. He’s important. “I coached Mary Lou, and Kim, and what-do-you-call-her, and the ugly one.” Thanks, Bela. OH THE MEMORIES.

Also, did Bela just try to name Carly in that list of his champion gymnasts?

Although to be fair, I couldn’t tell if he said “Carly” or “Grlrgly.” Each as likely as the other.

Martha is also here. WHO?

We catch up with Martha Claus as she emerges from her glorious forest palace, clutching a list of who has been naughty and who has been thin.

This is also our first introduction to Kristen Bell’s fabulous and self-consciously accurate pronunciation of Martha. She hits that t like a BOSS. That’s like how Dominique Moceanu pronounces it, except without the cauldron of roiling magma. Continue reading American Horror Story: The Ranch →

The fear.

The anger.

No matter where we come from, no matter who we are, all humans are bound together by the irrepressible storm of pain and fury we experience whenever anyone assumes the telltale position.

The wolf turn.

Man’s greatest predator.

Our fear of it is instinctive, animalistic, coded in our DNA. Like all primates, human beings inherently mistrust the wolf turn as a defense mechanism to ensure eye preservation. It’s just too dangerous. Too unflattering. In all contexts. Always. For everyone. There’s a reason no one looks at the Mona Lisa and says, “This would be nicer if she were squatting.”

But I believe we can be better than this. We can rise above our basest instincts and, through a process of exposure therapy, shrug off our irrational fear of the wolf and embrace it for what it truly is: a hilarious disasterpiece that may be gymnastics’ greatest gift of all.

And with so much material, how could we ever tire of our newest friend?

At Secret Classic alone, it brought us the old Texas two-step…

That was a double. What? Shut up. Ending pose!

The ingredients are 1.5 cups wolf turn, and half a cup “grandma’s vertigo is getting worse.”

The 1.5 wolf turn can also be connected directly to Surfin’ USA for 0.2 CV.

Got it, got it, got it, got it, STOP CRAP. Continue reading When Wolf Turns Go Bad →

End of post.

While Catalina’s attempt to explain the schematics of her plan for a space railroad may be the gold standard, Ponor is far from the only member of the “Is this…what is this?” beam hall of fame. The US system has been churning out champions left and right for years and years.

For artistry. We do so much for artistry. And has it ever said thank you? Even once? Pssh.

I mean, who can forget The Legend of Ol’ Flappy?

Fly away home, Nastia. Fly away home.

Like any great artist, she inspired a generation who wanted to be just like her.

Nope. Fallen out of the nest.

We all remember where we were the first time we saw this revelation.

Scholars have hotly debated the author’s intent in this piece since its debut, and they may never stop. Is she advertising an old-people smoothie juicer? Milking a hover-cow? Explaining how many Memmels it takes to screw in a lightbulb? (Four?) Perhaps it’s intentionally ambiguous. For art.

Continue reading Great Moments in Beam Choreography →