Thank God It’s Friday

I Feel Your Pain: Sasha Cohen may or may not have skated her long program while suffering from a groin pull, the same injury that forced Michelle Kwan to withdraw from the Olympics entirely. Perhaps, like me, you were unaware that women had groins. I thought it was part of the male anatomy until I strained my own. Guys may be interested to know that the soreness is further aggravated by wearing high heels—I can scarcely imagine the effect of flinging oneself in the air and landing on ice. Stretching only makes it worse, which I assume applies to Ms. Cohen’s Gumby poses. My leg hurt just to stand on it, much less pull it over my head. I confess I am not a huge fan of Cohen’s (I really, really, really wanted Kwan to win a gold) and I don’t know that her crash landings last night merited a silver medal. But I have to applaud her groin-and-bear-it routine. Now let’s give the girl a cortisone shot.

Bright Lights, Big Ratings: We all know that the real competition last night wasn’t on NBC. I’m talking about the finale to “Dancing With the Stars.” On the one hand, you’ve got little pixies floating across a swath of white ice to the strains of obscure classical music. On the other, you’ve got Jerry Rice getting jiggy in an Afro wig. No contest. I will even forgive “Dancing” the hour of filler material, which was utterly redeemed by Drew and Cheryl’s Urban Slutboy freestyle. It was almost enough to erase the sight of host Samantha Harris attempting the jive—apparently she was sick of being the only tastefully dressed female on the show. It was almost enough to compensate for the judges, who between this week and last were either a) lobotomized, b) sent to Paula Abdul cheerleading camp or c) de-clawed. How else to explain the 9s (9s!) handed out to Jerry Rice—didn’t they all but beg America to vote him off—or their failure to completely lambaste Stacy’s dance to Saturday Night Tepid. The white girl can’t disco, 42-inch legs or not. Drew and Cheryl laid it down, literally, and deserve to win.

Cusack for Governor: Minnesota had Jesse Ventura. California got Schwarzenegger. I think it’s high time for Illinois to elect its own celebrity governor. The Land of Lincoln is not exactly swimming in star power, so I’m willing to settle for Harold Ramis, Richard Marx or either Cusack—John or Joan. (We’re saving Oprah for President.) They couldn’t be worse than our last two picks. The former governor—George Ryan—is on trial for corruption. I don’t think anybody’s actually following these proceedings. They only caught my attention when I noticed that Ryan’s wife was separated at birth from Canadian sexpert Sue Johanson. The current officeholder—Rod Blagojevich—made a befuddled appearance on “The Daily Show,” claiming he didn’t know it was a spoof of the news. I know Rod is busy trying to look like he deserves to be re-elected but c’mon. I don’t have cable and I know the difference between Jon Stewart and Dan Rather. If I were governor, minimally I’d assign someone on my staff to read Entertainment Weekly. Which is where Cusack should announce his/her candidacy.