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Mr. Wrong

Let the Mind Games Begin

By Joe MacLeod | Posted 8/18/2004

I don’t have a bet down on anything yet, but I’m already uncomfortable with these Olympic Games in Athens, Greece, which I have learned (by watching teevee) is where Big-D Democracy and all-male nude sports were practiced many centuries ago.

Every time they show one of those gigantor stadiums where they’re doing stuff like vaulting and the high bar and the volleyball and the rings and shit, and there’s, like, almost fucking nobody in the stands, it makes me feel all nervous—like when a new restaurant opens up and you walk in and they got no business, right? And you wanna be like, “Hey, put a fucking sandwich board out on the sidewalk in front of this joint, OK? A little neon in the window wouldn’t hurt, you know? Look, you just opened, why the fuck do you wanna do a grand opening right now? Give it a coupla weeks and get the kinks ironed out of the place first, huh? And, c’mon, you know, you should probably advertise a little and maybe leaflet the neighborhood? And hey, insteada this plant in the window, put a table, OK? That way people will sit there and then people who walk by will see there’s actually people eating inside and they won’t be afraid to give it a try, right?”

Anyway, I’m watching these Japanese guys going apeshit on the pommel horse or whatever, and Bob Costas is talking about how there aren’t a lot of people in Greece right now because this is when they go “on holidays,” so maybe that explains why the place is empty. Right.

First of all, what is with this Bob Costas guy? It’s like he’s tense and nervous and he can’t relax. I mean, how long has he been on the teevee doing this sports bullshit and he still looks like he just got called on in the back row at school and he was ùsleep or something? And what the fuck is up with his hair? I just Googled his ass and says he’s 52 years of old. C’mon, Bobbo, you been in the game for long enough. If somebody was gonna snatch your job of breaking down the chances for the Romanian gymnastics team, they woulda got it already, so relax. Nobody gives a fuck if you got gray hair, or hair, or whatever’s really going on up on top of your head, so take a tip from Bob Barker, host of teevee’s The Price Is Right, the longest-running game show in history, both modern and ancient, and just let that shit go, umkay?

And the swimming guy who was supposed to win eight medals? Jesus H. Christ, don’t fucking saddle this guy with unrealistic expectations, right? He wins a gold medal and then loses some other shit he was supposed to win gold medals in, and so now he’s a Failure because it’s not gonna be eight medals. No, really, I don’t even care about this shit, and there’s an asterisk in my head because he was Supposed to Win Eight Medals. Seriously, he’s a media-created quasi-Loser, and it’s like he won a consolation prize even if he wins six gold medals in the Olympics because he didn’t win the eight goddamn medals: “Oh, hey, swimmer-dude, no really, seven medals, nice try.” Right?

One fucking medal in the Olympics is a really big deal, even if it’s, like, in Air Rifle or something, and they’ve been building this shit up for months about how this guy could win eight medals, eight medals, eight fucking medals. So that’s annoying, but I don’t feel that bad about it since he’s got one of those goofy “Got Milk” ads and some AT&T Wireless and PowerBar action going on. It’s not like he’s gonna be homeless or have to swim privately for one of those crazy Olympic-wannabe millionaires in Delaware or anything.

I think the United States Basketball team just lost a game, and not to be, like, unpatriotical or anything about the basketball, but that makes me feel kinda good about The Games. I betcha probably what happened is there weren’t enough NBA ringers on the team this year to make a “dream team,” and so maybe there’s some real competition going on. I mean, I dunno if the real kabillionaire pro-types who usually show up to kick everybody’s ass skipped the trip because of The Enemy, but hey, think about it, right? I mean, you got a nice thing going playing sports, and sure, you might wanna go and play in the Olympics every once in a while and beat the crap out of some lower-division players from around The Globe, but now The Enemy is blowing shit up all over the place and kidnapping people and cutting their fucking heads off, right? Stay home and play basketball, what the fuck are you trying to prove?

And the flag waving—please, what is this about the flags? The Olympics is supposed to be about competition on a personal level, and all the Nations of the World are supposed to come together in Peace and in the Spirit of Good Sport and shit like that, and it’s not supposed to be all this rah-rah jingoistic flag-waving crapola. It should just be about, like, hurray for whoever won, and they are from such-and-such country, which is nice, but the country didn’t win the fucking medal, the athlete did, so don’t wrap the goddamn flag around your waist when you win, OK?

Anyway, next Olympics, when I’m in charge, I got a plan: No ringers, no flag waving, and no uniforms. Yeah, baby, Naked Olympics. Think there’s gonna be any empty seats then?

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