Monday, February 13, 2006
Olympic Opening Ceremony Recap
I’m a total sucker for the Olympics. I love the opening ceremony, the effusion of maudlin commercials, the fanatical pursuit of perfection in a discipline that has no relationship to the world as I know it. If you’ve missed the show so far, or have watched it with the sound turned off so you can listen to old Pink Floyd or some kind of hippie music instead of the compulsive nattering that is supposed to form the sound track to the world’s greatest athletes, here’s a recap for you.
At the outset of the coverage there is an interview between two employees of the same network, who exchanged prophesies.
- You know, this is the most recent of all the Olympic games.
- That must be because all the prior ones took place in the past.
- But let’s look beyond that, to the spirit that drives these athletes to excel. After this message from our sponsors, Altegra - the drug only your doctor’s insurance administrator can discuss with you.
- No time for that, we’ve got a breaking report of goodwill and miscegenation. These youthful, hormone-packed, finely-tuned young Adonises and -ettes have finally broken the unspoken barrier of mutual human shame. Is a new race of ubermenches in our future? We’ll have an in-depth report later tonight, so don’t try changing the channel or you might miss something juicy. And now, let’s look into this year’s new competitions. Galvin?
- This year sees the introduction of two new sports in the winter Olympics, an ancient competition that is fought even today just exactly as the ancient Athenians did on their crude snowboards and their hammered bronze ice skates.
- Two new sports, then, eh?
- Okay there big fella, don’t go all Canadian on me, there are two new sports. There’s the Bi-Avalon, in which androgynous Bryan Ferry impersonators replicate bloated ‘80s pop, and the Nardic Combined - a brutal, emasculating event in which athletes endure two procedures on their persons that can only be referred to in figures of speech: the freestyle equipment series, and curling.
- Ouch, Gavin. Up next: the heartwarming story of a dog and his pick-up truck. Only in Torino, people. Stay tuned.
I did, but with the magic of TiVo, I was able to skip around pretty efficiently for this four-hour block of programming. Here are the highlights you need no longer admit to having missed:
During the opening ceremony I was shocked to see dancers zipping around with flames shooting out of their lycra body-coverings. I can still remember my RA telling us never to set those things on fire, no matter what they came out of. Then they had an Italian speaker make an announcement in English that sounded like a “Welcome to the assleaks of the XXth Olympiad.” I join her in warmly embracing this misunderstood community, but you know there’s a reason why the stadium has no roof.
Worthy of special introduction from our media team on site, was Georg Hakel, the German Luge star (these people, they actually worship lugers), known to the adoring millions as “The speeding white sausage.” Really. Inspired by his example, and expecting that most people won’t be able to prove you wrong, here’s a short list of other “Olympians” and their nicknames, so you can say you’re rooting for somebody if you’re asked:
* Downhill: the aging but indomitable Khazak aristocrat, Flambus Kokramak, the Plummeting Puce Walrus
* Short-track Skating: the Samoan sensation, Faulu Ulufalulufalu or “Foo-Foo,” the Raging Red Winnebago
* Ice Dancing: Liechtensteinian waifs Ebo and Albu Narkenugi, the Drooping Maroon Spoons
* Super-G: Argentinian playboy Serge Fantabular, the Slithering Sepia Snake
* Biathalon: New Zealandinian Ewan Gloot, the Plucky Little Cornflower Cornflower.
The parade of nations was spruced up a little bit by the use of ‘80s pop hits instead of ponderous Olympian tropes. Thus, we got Iran’s team walking out to Funky Town, a coincidence I canŐ´ help but think has political implications. I now wish they’d gone a little further with this musical commentary, as by letting the Two Koreas march out together to the strains of “Tainted Love,” or Cuba to “Dancing With Myself.” Anyway, it seems now like a missed opportunity. Come on, “Come On Eileen” for Eileenia! You can’t make this stuff up!
Anyway, after that Yoko Ono and Peter Gabriel sucked all the life out of the place and we all remembered that Benito Mussolini built the stadium and got sort of freaked out and some skier lady went to light some fireworks in the middle of everything with the torch and it set off a bunch of fireworks and then they lit the main torch which I thought was cheating but okay MISTER TORINO OLYMPICS you can have it your way but I don’t have to like it.
The rest of it seems to be going well enough, though. The U.S’s Flying Red Tomato won a gold. Said he was “stoked.” Okay, the baby’s up. Hope this was helpful for you. I found it personally fulfilling, myself, despite failing to meet my personal best. That’s what human endeavor is all about, eh Gavin?
