Wednesday, August 8, 2012

Lovin' the 'Lympics

[AceNote: Someone is guaranteed to be offended by this screed. Bring it on!]

First off, that Olympic song they play (which is actually “Bugler's Dream” by Leo Arnaud—who says I don't do research?) needs some words:

Come watch the swell Olympics
It's on tv no matter how much it's delayed
Just Yanks, perhaps some allies
Plenty of ads and wacky games are played

[then the fast part]
The 'Lympics, the 'Limpics, it's time for the Olympics [repeat]

Then you've the John Williams ponderous fanfare that seems cribbed from a medley of his 839 movie themes, perfectly sanitized for your ennui. Meh.

Of course, each city must outdo the previous one when it comes to staging an overblown, nauseating opening ceremony. This year, Old Blighty went all out to stage a grandiose gallimaufry of goo. I guess there was a plot in there somewhere. Marching through history? Mr. Bean? Okay, I dug it when a QE stunt double skydived into the stadium. My idea: Just parade in the athletes (all of whom, except the Kyzkjistanis, carry video-capturing cell phones), shoot off some fireworks, and get 'er done.

I especially like the marginal events, such as croquet, macramé and speed barbecuing. These folks get the spotlight only quadrenially, so they deserve some juice. I even go for the dressage (which name Harvey Fierstein must have concocted), which is like a dance scene from a Gilbert and Sullivan work, except on horses. These athletes must be lauded for giving up two weeks of prime time on the Vineyard and the Hamptons to starch their spines and compete for the yew ess of ay.

Other sports could use some alterations, methinks. In fencing, take away the pads and use real swords. Draw blood and you get a point; take someone out and you win. Think of what they'll save on all that electronic crap the contestants wear now. Plus, you'll see real swashbucklers: Think Errol Flynn and Ty Power, not some fancypants preppies.

Adding the cannonball to the diving would eliminate some of the nancy boys in that sport. Hold the swimming in the same venue as the whitewater canoeing and you'll save another bundle on chlorine alone.

Seen those bows in archery? Stevie Wonder could hit the bull’s-eye. Those things have more gadgets and gizmos than Ron Popeil's pantry. Robin of Locksley didn't need all that junk to take out Nottingham's minions.

Can we stop the chop sides in hoops? Keep the NBA Self-absorbed Team (remember when Shaquille O'Neal was asked if he visited the Parthenon? His response: “I don't know. I can't really remember the names of the clubs that we went to.”) at home and send collegians. On the distaff side, you've already got Coach Auriemma in the house, so why doesn't he just bring the UConn women?

On that note, bring back women's softball and send the Brakettes as our reps.

Call me Ben Arnold, but I don't always root for the Americans. Instead, I cheer for the country with the smallest population. I want Bhutan to win everything. Take a look at my boy, judo maven Tuvshinbayar Naidan. All he did was win Mongolia's first gold medal—in anything.

Track stars seem to be the biggest preeners. To wit: Britain's Jessica Ennis, who won the pentathlon. She was still panting from the 800 meter when someone draped a preprinted, self-aggrandizing Union Jack over her shoulders. Wonder how long she would have kept it had she lost? Usain Bolt holds poses for longer than his event takes. Relax, buddy, next week you'll be about as popular outside of Negril as Patrick Duffy.

NBC's programming is as predictable as the somnambulistic talent in its booths. They'll cut away from a thrilling rowing repechage to show women's beach volleyball, which sport, for some unfathomable reason, has garnered roughly 1,936 hours of airtime already.

And yes, every gymnastics has its darling ever since Jim McKay drooled over Nadia Comaneci in 1976; this year it's Gabby Douglas, who's a dang mile winsomer than Gabby Hayes. What would happen if a champ had a zit-laden face and a schnozz like Marge Hamilton as WWW? Would she still “capture our hearts?”

Now, for improvements: I think there should be separate audio feeds where announcers actually speak the truth. Some examples:

“That dive bit the big weenie, Joe.”

“Sprinter Billy Bob Carbuncle has the biggest collection of child porn in the Olympic Village.”

“Of course, swimmer Stephanie Gidget would have fared better if she hadn't had those eleven Jaeger Bombs at the King's Arms last night.”

“When she's not competing, shotputter Bertha Brobdingnag enjoys female stonemasons, Cuban panetelas and truck pulls.”

“Lookit the size of that ass.”

And the like.

I also deem we could do with some additional sports. Herewith:

  • Synchronized skateboard
  • Wal-Mart Black Friday snatch-and-grab
  • Half-pipe wheelchairs
  • An all-NBA spelling bee
  • Full-contact karaoke
  • Nude kayaking

… and events to help certain special-interest groups win:

  • Accounting (Israel)
  • Speed Guinness (Ireland)
  • Silent bocce (er, no; this would disqualify the Italians)
  • Senseless guitar jams (Deadheads)
  • Sprint to a Royal Caribbean buffet (seniors)

Gotta love dem 'Lympics. Every four years, something for everyone, except that Japanese hurdler who botched his first jump.

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