How may I offend thee? Let me count the ways…
How offensive is that voice over the loudspeaker saying that anyone who doesn’t like lasers, pyro, and loud rock and roll music, “Take your man card and go out to the concourse, because the rest of us like to P-A-R-T-Y!” Notice that there was no mention of bull riding.
And that’s what’s wrong with the slick direction the PBR has taken.
Oh, great, now they’ve got female flesh on display standing on the risers near the chutes, just like the riders do.
The music is so loud, half the time you can’t hear the announcers.
But I did hear one of them call Robson Palermo a superstar, and amen to that!
They didn’t make a fuss over Silvano, though. It was like, Oh yeah, by the way, the three-time (some say four) World Champion—next. I can’t believe Silvano is riding tonight, after his awful wreck.
It’s just so gross to have JB escorted by two bimbos. That says everything you need to know about how the PBR views women, no matter how much we tell them we hate it.
Flint standing on the Shark Cage insisting, “It’s dangerous up here!”
A lot of empty expensive streets.
Cody Nance lucked out: while he was down the Fireball jumped over him, not on him.
Kasey Hayes was at his best, scoring 87 on Micro Man: “When I get outside my head, I do it right.”
Justin Paton’s bull Rio put on quite a show after he dispensed with him, bucking off the strap, chasing people, butting a barrel, being roped and fighting it.
Funny sight behind the chutes: JB warming up by pogoing.
Alves dug deep and pulled himself back into position on Percolator when almost everyone else would’ve quit. It was impressive. The score was not. Another shocker. Not.
Nathan Schaper also did a great job of pulling himself up and hanging onto Lieutenant Dan nearly sideways.
Luke Snyder was P.F.F. (Pretty Fucking Funny, in case you’ve forgotten) in his Bass Pro Shop segment, zipped into a sleeping bag and hopping around with both feet.
The announcer dope called him “Wallace Oliveira”—how dumb! Why can’t these WASPS pronounce anyone else’s name correctly? The “de” is part of his last name. It is not optional. Just like Cord’s last name is McCoy, not Coy.
The PBR has a new cologne for men. Honest to god, I don’t know how this one got greenlighted. The name is 8 Seconds. The slogan: “Timing is everything.” Clearly they’re not connecting the dots here. Help them out, ladies.
The new women’s stinkum is “Wild Ride.” Now, are they saying the woman is what the man is riding (for a whopping 8 seconds)? They really have their heads up their asses.
Best bit: Flint demonstrating how to use perfume: spray it into the air and prance through it.
Bad luck for Ben Jones: Off the Grid lurching forward, trying to launch himself up out of the chute just as Ben nodded. It was a disaster; Ben got bucked down hard, landed on his right arm, and was in a lot of pain.
Silvano’s accident from last night in closeup: the bull’s hooves knocked off his helmet and knocked him out, then butted his body and trampled him.
J.W. Harris got trashed by the honestly named Mishap, hung up, stomped, crushed—you name it. He was very shaken up as he left; I’m sure he didn’t know where he was or what day it was.
I swear, JR Vieira’s bull Ranga was drunk: came out backwards, fell on his knees, stumbled, did every wrong thing, and got Vieira a re-ride—or a 70.75.
CHEESE ON THE MENU
A diamond ring was hidden somewhere in the arena, three people were let loose on the dirt to try to find it, and it took forever for one guy to catch on that the barrel lying down on the dirt was a hint. Once he had the ring in hand, someone asked if he had a girlfriend. You could see where that was going. The announcers started pressuring him, and in a minute the poor sucker was proposing on the dirt, looking like he was facing a firing squad, while Girlfriend was ecstatic. Poor guy—came to see bull riding, and came out with a noose around his neck. As for Girlfriend, that’s just pathetic. If anyone proposed to me at a bull riding event in front of thousands of people because he felt like he was supposed to, I’d ram that ring down his throat.
Talk about manipulation: when the crowd didn’t reach the proper pitch of hysteria on hearing the first few notes of “Bad to the Bone,” the announcer became a cheerleader: “I can’t hear you,” he chanted two times, to rev them up for the Supreme Being, who didn’t live up to the hype.