The only Paris Olympics I’ve seen have been in meme form on FB. I wasn’t impressed with the drag queens at the Big Table, nor the blue Smerf guy with the spray painted nut-sac, or as Christopher Walken might say, “walking around in underwear with your wiener hanging out for everyone to see”. (Zoolander, 2001). It’s become the world’s Super Bowl and just as embarrassing as its halftime spectacle of nippled tit astray, now blue balls gone one-hung, low.
Then I saw Snoop Dog prancing in with a “big fatty” concealing the torch. Aren’t torch carriers to be honored as role models? Is this clown a DEI invitee to appease the burgeoning masses?
It all strikes me as one big corporate commercial, including countries now run like corporations. I guess I’m old school. Hell, I used to carry a zippered homework thing in grade school with the 1960 Rome Olympic results and all the world records on it. In other words, once upon a time it was important. Priorities change throughout the dwindling years. Breakdancing as an Olympic sport? This tells me the Olympics are no longer sacred. Then again, what is?
I get it though, this four-year recycled display of physical prowess. Everyone loves an Olympic hero. Who will be the anointed ones this cycle? What countries will puff with podium pride over their modern “Greek gods”? Plus, the “games” are a world tradition and now, more than ever, a huge money maker for a vast assortment of hanger-on-ers.
Personally, I’ll just wait for the highlighted video clips and sound bites after the fact. There’s too much fluff between highlights too long in between. Everything is done in excess in a show of oneupmanship against other host cities and their bestowed upon telecasting rights. If I was inherently more competitive like most people on here probably are, I might think differently.
Maybe it’s just the capillaries in the cerebral cortex loosing elasticity to the yellow plaques of goo. Could it be no one really gives a squat of shit anymore, if they ever did?
