Let’s just call the Olympic Games what they really are — a global marketing assault. A safari for giant corporations. Everything gets tattooed and branded. Every shred of free space and micro-second of time is the “Official Olympic” this or that.
I tried watching the Winter Olympic Games yesterday.
Finally, after 250 television commercials, it suddenly dawned on me. Do I really give a shit if Lars Wjicklaanvandenheimer skates any faster than Rolfalinder Szchatterzerheiss? I mean, who cares!
Unless your last name is Wjicklaanvandenheimer or Szchatterzerheiss.
Hey, I get it. Racing down a steep mountain slope on skis requires special skills I don’t have, and never will possess. Then again, so does change the oil on my car. I can’t do that either. And I sure as shit don’t want to watch that on television.
Everyone over in Sochi right now is up in arms that the toilets don’t flush and the food sucks. Hey people — YOU’RE IN THE MIDDLE OF RUSSIA. What did you expect, The Four Seasons on the Champs de Elysee? Ungrateful kids. They get lots of expensive clothes. They’re given full RFB at a mountain resort for three weeks. They get to skate, ski, drink, screw, or whatever — for free. And all they do is moan that the Internet doesn’t work. Winey little bitches.
They even created some gold medal events, especially for stoners. These half-bearded kids with no jobs and haven’t taken baths in months skiing on skateboards. That pretty much sums it up. They’d all be crammed into a $650-a-month apartment right now on the foothills of Steamboat Springs smoking dope if it weren’t for the Winter Games. Now all of the sudden, they become national heroes and television stars.
Well, I refuse to cheer for any of them. Why should I? What’s in it for me?
Let’s get this straight. We’re all supposed to chummy up and cheer for so-called “athletes” for no other reason than they happen to be citizens of the same country like us? Is this really the optimal manner by which to determine our rooting interest? Most of us either don’t know our neighbors, or they annoy us. So why would we cheer for any of them? What if the American kid is a jerk, but the athlete from Switzerland is really nice? Can we cheer for the Swiss guy instead? Come to think of it, the guy from Switzerland is probably an asshole, too.
This brings me to figure skating.
What a rat’s nest of catty-ass bitches and primadonnas. Of course, I’m talking about the judges.
Seriously — judges. In a sporting event. What is this — Dancing With the Stars or an international sporting competition? If you really want to pump up ratings and create some interest, I say let’s give all the skaters hammers and let them go at it. Make it Gladiators on Ice. Now that’s something I would watch. You might even be able to coax Tanya Harding out of retirement.
Speaking of figure skating, one simple request. Can we get the guys to butch it up just a little? Hey, I’m for equality and all. I think the rainbow flag is kinda’ pretty. But must they all wear those fruit-loop jumpsuits laced with the Liberace sequins? Watching these “men” skate, it’s hard to tell if it’s a sporting event, or the sequel to Burt Wanderlust is being filmed.
And another thing. What’s so athletic about the bobsled? It’s basically a soapbox derby on ice, which is something 8-year-old kids do. Sorry, but if 8-year-old kids can do it, it’s not a fucking sport. Hell, you could strap me onto one of those tube things, and I could drive down the side of a mountain on a sheet of ice — not that I’d ever actually do that of course. Not unless I’m allowed to text at the same time, anyway.
Yesterday, there was a competition where all these guys from Norway and Finland were skiing cross-country. It looked so nice and peaceful — like The Sound of Music, only on skis. I was enjoying the serenity when suddenly the skiers pulled out assault rifles and started shooting. Holy shit! For a second there, I thought terrorism had struck before I realized this was something called the biathlon. One would think the biathlon would require one of those Liberace jumpsuits, but I guess not. They use guns. Now, that’s what I call butching-up an Olympic event!
Let’s just call the Olympic Games what they really are — a global marketing assault. A safari for giant corporations. Everything gets tattooed and branded. Every shred of free space and micro-second of time is the “Official Olympic” this or that. Non-stop television commercials are bad enough to sit through, but must every backdrop and billboard and patch of clothing be pimped out? Enough!
Oh well, my time is up. Now, if you’ll excuse me, womens’ curling is about to start. Women standing around with brooms. I can’t wait. To change the channel.
