It was in the news the other day that a cheetah had achieved the fastest recorded cheetah-time, running 100 meters in just over 6 seconds, which is about 36 mph.

What the hell? That’s the fastest recorded cheetah time? Are we only clocking old cheetahs, lame cheetahs, cheetahs who aren’t feeling well? Every right-thinking child knows that cheetahs are the fastest land animals and can hit speeds of 60 – 70 mph, if properly motivated. This cheetah they clocked at 36 mph—named Sarah, if it matters—got dropped out of the back of a van and was merely loping after a target.

Then this bogus news story generates the inevitable question: can Usain Bolt beat a cheetah?

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I’m supposed to be reviewing The Hangover here, but the problem is I saw it when hung over and can’t remember much of it. That’s what you call “irony.”

(Manhattans and red wine, if you must know.)

I’d heard that this movie is so funny I’d be in convulsions over it, so I went in there hopeful, because personally I like to be convulsed with laughter, but after awhile I realized it wasn’t going to happen. Maybe my hangover was at fault; maybe the audience was one of those tough crowds and that put a damper on things; or maybe, just maybe, the movie drags like a half-detached muffler and for some reason nobody wants to mention it.
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