The Red Herring

Olympics Win Gold Medal for Sucking

The Olympics are back with only a few more months to go until the 2008 Summer Games in Beijing and Hong Kong. And man, I couldn’t care less about anything else.

I hate everything about the Olympics, from the pompous theme music to the endless advertising of products claiming to be the “official” Olympic snack food. What’s it going to be this time around? Snickers or Three Musketeers? Precisely what training regimen are candy bars a staple of anyway? And what happens if you’re caught snacking on non- official junk food? Next to testing for steroids you better believe they’ll be doing blood tests for Milky Ways.

The Olympics are so pointless. It’s full of athletes you’ve never heard of, playing games that you don’t really care about, for really lame prizes. I mean, on Fear Factor, you get $100,000 and all you have to do is eat pig scrotum—not dedicate 18 years, 12 hours a day, 7 days a week to jumping over a stick. Sure, you might just get those 10 seconds of fame you’ve always dreamed of. But if you really want those 10 seconds of fame so bad, why not just marry Britney Spears? Considering where her career is these days, it’d be really easy.

If you’re one of the lucky ones who wins, you get a shiny gold necklace. BIG DEAL! If you want to wear a big, fancy medallion, go work for 50 cent. With him, not only do you get a gaudy necklace, but you get a 9mm, a crackpipe, and unlimited blowjobs from skanky preteen groupies!

You might point out that I’m not obligated to watch Station or the troops struggling to stay alive in Iraq are being force-fed the endless talk of “Olympic Fever”. Ironically, all across North America, it’s always the fatter and more out-of- shape people who are the most obsessed. I always enjoy the image of a 350-pound woman wearing an Olympics insignia sweat suit while she waves those whale flippers of hers, proudly supporting her team as they go for the gold. Jingjing the Panda, Yingying the Tibetan Antelope, and Nini the Swallow. Th ese are just 3 out of 5 mascots for this year’s Olympics. Who in God’s name dreamed up these monstrosities? These things look like the result of a drunken night of unprotected sex between the Care Bears and Pikachu.

Look, the point is, if you’re the best at something, why not actually get paid for it? If you’re such a great runner—play football. Or if you’re such a great male gymnast—make porn. The world would be a better place if everyone just dropped this obsession with crappy mascots, meaningless competitions, and ugly-ass gold jewelry.

Go for the gold? Go fuck yourself.

- Eli Keshet

The Red Herring

vol. XIX no. 4

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• Posted on May 14th, 2008
• Written by editorial staff
• Articles, Eli Keshet