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            Web 
              Exclusives: Inky 
              Dinky Do 
              a PAW web exclusive column by Hugh O'Bleary (paw@princeton.edu) 
             
            Feburary 
              13, 2002: 
              Olympic 
              Orange 
              It's the venue, stupid! 
             By Hugh O'Bleary 
            Ask Peter "Pierre" 
              Pinkley 77 what time it is and hell tell you, "Its 
              Tiger time!" Pinkley is an unabashed booster of of all things 
              Princeton. This is a man who has a room devoted to Princeton memorabilia, 
              from flags and pennants to old Palmer Stadium programs to a framed 
              and signed color photo of George Schultzs tiger tattoo. Im 
              not so sure he doesnt have a tattoo of Schultzs 
              tattoo.  
            I often ride the train 
              into the city with Pinkley ("I work in advertising," he 
              likes to say, "but my hearts in Princeton.") and 
              he usually has some sort of Princeton-centric scheme hes working 
              on. Last summer, it was orange-and-black hot dogs (veggie dogs, 
              actually; they were made out of carrot and black beans, and despite 
              the obvious appeal for tailgating never caught on), the year before 
              that it was the campaign to get Woodrow Wilson added to Mount Rushmore. 
              It should have been no surprise then when he plopped into the seat 
              beside me one morning last week and said, "Swifter. Higher. 
              Farther
 Oranger." 
            "Arent I gonna 
              what?" I said. 
            "Not arent 
              ya, OBleary  Oranger. Oranger, as in more 
              orange." 
            "Meaning?" 
              I should have known not to ask. 
            "Its the motto 
              for my new campaign," he said. 
            I asked what the product 
              was. 
            "Its not a 
              product, " he said. "Its a dream. A vision. A mission." 
              He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a rolled-up piece of 
              paper. He held it up and with a flourish let it unscroll. On it 
              were the words GOING BACK TO THE GAMES. 
            "The Princeton Olympics," 
              said Pinkley. "Just think of it  the world comes to Princeton." 
            I may have tittered, 
              or snorted. 
            "They laughed at 
              Baron Pierre de Coubertain, too," he said, "but he made 
              his vision come true. Arent you watching the Games every night? 
              Im serious about this. Just think, at the first Modern Olympics 
              in 1896, most of the U.S. team was from Princeton. What could be 
              more fitting then bringing the Games back here?" 
            "Well almost anything," 
              I said. 
            But he was not to be 
              deterred. 
            "Just picture it, 
              OBleary," he said. "The stadium filled with cheering 
              spectators from all over the world, medal ceremonies on the steps 
              of Nassau Hall, the P-rade of athletes at opening ceremonies." 
              For a moment a far-away look came into his eyes. "And get this 
               instead of gold medals, well have ORANGE medals for 
              first place!" 
            He had clearly been watching 
              too much Jim McKay. "What makes you think," I said, "that 
              the International Olympic Committee would even consider Princeton?" 
            "Aha!" said 
              Pinkley. "How did the ancient Greeks conduct their Olympics? 
              In the nude. And how does Princeton conduct its Olympics?" 
              He gave a big grin. "Its a lock," he said. 
             
               
            You can reach Hugh O'Bleary 
              at "Hugh O'Bleary" paw@princeton.edu 
                
               
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