Denny's again, today. That's just natural, though, it being Friday and all. However, about midway through, the building started becoming more crowded. Folks were standing at the crosswalks outside, as if waiting for something on the street.

Sure enough, after a procession of Coca-Cola and Chevorlet product-endorsing vehicles, a number of cop cars passed by. In their midst was a truck. A truck with a bucket of flames on it.

So we saw the Olympic torch. And, for the record, it stank. Not literally--although it may have, for all I know, being inside and all--but in that colloquialist way. I mean, for all the people lining up on 395, you'd figure the truck would at least have a vision of the Virgin Mary on it. No. Just a bucket of flames.

Our whole Denny's crew remained largely unimpressed. We've seen several things more impressive in our time hoarding that corner seat: car wrecks, chickens, and innumerable amounts of hilarious mullets and short buses.

Sure, I can see you all saying how momentous this was. But really, unless you've seen the Olympic flame, you don't know how small and absurd it is (especially when it's coming out the back of a minivan). It's just like the castle in Disneyland. Trick photography makes it look terrific and grand, but you get there and look at it and it's about as tall as your house with depressing muted colors. A big disappointment.

I suppose we'd all been rather under the impression that they ran the flame, too. They don't tell you that on TV--that it drives to a town, has some guy run around with it, and then it gets back on a minivan. It was on its way to Idaho when it passed by us and headed out on 395. There, some other guy would run about two feet and then chuck it back on some car.

What's really amusing to us, however, is the sheer amount of people who are appauled that we don't kiss the asphalt the minivan carressed. The folks in the booth next to us looked like we were throwing the American flag into that flame as we discussed how very disappointing it is to see a bucket of fire strapped to a car.

I'm all for the Olympics, sure. Why not? It's neat--especially the ice skating and the bobsleds and all that. But it's not like we needed a second one in America so close to Atlanta. I'm sure there's other countries perfectly capable of hosting something, but, as always, it ultimately comes down to capitalist urges. And it's not as if it's some grand holy event.

I mean, come on folks. We weren't giggling at the Popemobile.

So, this year, as I watch the opening ceremonies in Salt Lake, I shall be thinking: "That flame drove past Denny's. In a bucket. On a minivan. Life is grand."