Gold Medal Issues

In which I mention the Olympics. Full disclosure: yesterday I learned an American boy's life was claimed by the world's largest water slide and I made no attempt to not find that funny, nor will I unless challenged by a parent whose offspring was killed by the world's largest water slide. Also: yesterday I learned a guy drew a cute picture for every one of the 365 days of a year with his beloved lady and I found that as horrible as some misguided fools would the thought of a 10 year old boy decoupling from a fun ride so hard his head came right off. His head came off guys. If that doesn't cheer you up you've lost touch with your inner child and are probably imagining an elaborate proposal to your partner that will appear on Youtube to make millions of people vomit themselves inside out.      

The Olympics are upon us and I am grateful, for though I have no interest in the event I am bombarded with tales of weeping losers and excellent injuries whether I want them or not. And I want. I would be a much bigger fan of sport if every event guaranteed at least one super uncool emotional breakdown or stomach-churning snapping sound. Maybe the Olympics isn't literally drugfucked idiots aggressively waving flags, but let's be true inspirations who say it definitely is. Fuck the whole thing.

(This is fun. Surely I'll win a medal for this.)

The secret to my great attitude is of course my childhood, which as a bookworm was a carnival of beatings delivered by team players and budding patriots. If all sportball players were shovelled into a ditch I would be sad, but I would find a way to carry on. Perhaps if there was a working mental health system I could get these memories off my chest and become a flagwaving mega winner too? But sadly no. Because achieving mental health as a civilisation is not a tangible enough achievement for the aggressively cheerful souls who surf the twin sewer jets of inspiration and passion.

You have an inner child, an inner teen, an inner twentysomething, you get the picture. You're a pile of shit. We're all piles of shit and issues and fucked up loose ends and we're not going to outrun that by bulldozing the poor part of a new city every four years and staging an event that is literally adults playing kids' games like their lives depend on it. I'm not against fun, I live for fun, I hate fun twisted into a competitive nightmare that turns kids with good hand eye coordination into sponsored rapists.

Well that took a dark turn suddenly.

Anyway, in this case it looks like Brazil failed to destroy all evidence of poverty in time for the Olympics so I should celebrate that every four years it's Christmas for cynics. Do warm up before exercising.

(Wow, I totally John Olivered that injustice!)

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