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Don’t fuss no mo over Mo

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I keep seeing where Mitt Romney and others have got their mojos workin' overtime because some people refer to our Winter Games as the Mo-lympics.

If I may take it upon myself to offer a mild word of advice it would be this:

Un-mo your jos.

Chill.

Cool out cooler than the Cool Runners of Jamaican bobsled fame.

Don't waste another moment fretting about this because, believe me, the Mo-lympics these Games are bound to be.

Mo or less, anyway.

There are just some people in the press corps poised to descend upon us for whom the term "Mo-lympics" is too convenient to pass up.

In sports terms, it's a layup, a one-inch putt. Writers can't resist a gimme like this one.

Having spent 26 years in the sportswriting profession, eight of them as a columnist, and having covered Games in Los Angeles, Calgary and Barcelona, I'm afraid I know my fellow opinion-givers all too well.

Mitt Romney could shout "Don't call them the Mo-lympics" from the top of the Temple spires, sing "no-Mo" with the Tabernacle Choir or yodel it all the way down the luge run, and it won't prevent it.

Actually, knowing my fellow wisenheimer section of sportswriting, it will only spur them to mo and mo braying, Mo-lympic-wise.

This Kenneth Woodward thing in Newsweek is just a taste of it. Like a sheep baas or a cow moos, the genus and species, sportswriterusimitatus, will follow the Mo-lympic herd.

The thing is, why sweat it?

It likely will be a fraction of what is written about the Salt Lake Games.

From my experience, here is what's likely to happen: Every one of them, bless their cynical little hearts, will hit town and write the Mo-lympic column. This will be a riff on the "wacky" culture, the supposedly laborious drinking drills required to get the lowdown on a highball. Tom Green references will abound.

They may do a scandal number, though irate judges are pulling the plug on this song and dance.

They may do a theocracy column, cracking on Orrin and Co. dominating our lawgivers — although they're sure to dig on Rocky as the maverick stampeding from the mainstream.

After awhile pundits tend to tire of town-bashing. They'll see the good that many of us see.

They'll see we live in a place blessed by awesome beauty; the downtown streets are relatively clean and safe; there's more action than they expected in the bistros; we tie on a pretty fair feedbag in the dining halls; the great preponderance of people are kind, generous and friendly, and if they're fortunate enough to get up into the high country for an event, they'll think they've died and gone to Mount Olympus heaven.

Or not. Do we really care if they don't? Aren't they here 18 days and once they bug out, don't we still know what we've got — the deepest satisfaction of all?

So let them have their little Mo-lympic joke.

It could've been worse.

We could have been the Po'-lympics, but we made up the budget shortfalls.

We hope we won't be the No-Snow-lympics.

We could have been the No-lympics, period. But we're ahead of places never passing muster for such a world-class event.

I suggest we become the Go-with-the-flow-lympics.

Let 'em say what they want.

If they're half as bright as we are, they'll love the place and, egads, may even choose to move here.

Being the open-armed souls we are, you know what we'll say.

The mo the merrier.


Gib Twyman's column runs Saturdays. Please send e-mail to gtwyman@desnews.com, faxes to 801-237-2121.