The Official Home of Olympic Bitching!

 I’m going for a walk in a minute, and I fully intend to fall down a big hole while I’m at it.

 No calls.

 If not a hole, I’m going to have to find a cave or something, because I really can’t take anymore Olympics hype.

 It’s everywhere. I can barely turn around without seeing a billboard for the official Olympic drink (Powerade), the official Olympic sandwich shop (Subway) the official Olympic beer (Heineken) or TV (Panasonic) or plugs from countless other companies that, as far as I can see, have fuck all to do with athletics. (Stand up, Omega watches, Dow chemicals and, somehow, McDonalds.) I have no idea what the official prophylactic of the games is, but I’m sure they have one. It’s probably Trojans, what with the whole Greek angle.

 Incidentally, does anyone else think “Trojan” is a terrible name for a condom company? Surely the last thing you want to be reminded of when dealing with contraception is a group of people famous for sneaking past your defenses?

 I’ve already called for a boycott of the games under serious, political reasons, but now I’m just going to boycott it as best I can as a solo effort, because the whole thing hasn’t even started and it’s already clichéd and embarrassing.

 So I’m trying not to join in. I will not start eating at McDonalds just because they have a sign at a stadium somewhere. I will not wait hours at a roadside in the hopes of seeing someone run past carrying some fire – that doesn’t impress me, and neither should it impress anyone else this side of the stone age.

 In fact, the only thing that could genuinely re-kindle some interest for me at this point would be to make the sponsorship not just crass and overwhelming, but actually mandatory.

 Think about it; there’s no event that couldn’t be improved by making every sponsor a part of it. Competitors would stumble down the track, pissed on Heineken, stop half way for a Subway sandwich, struggle to get over the obstacles because they’re blinged up to the tits with Omega’s finest, weightiest accoutrements, and eventually all crash into each other because they can’t see where they’re going on account of being made to watch the 42” 3D Panasonic TVs that they’re carrying.

 This only applies to the events on land, of course. The swimmers would all just drown.

 I don’t think we’d break any records this year, but it would at least make for some cracking YouTube footage. And it might teach future generations a lesson about the dangers of rampant over-marketing, too.