I loosened my belt. Gotta let things breathe.
You’ve probably guessed already that I’m drunk a bit. But only abottle. So like most Lockdown Saturdays. That’s what they’re called now. Lockdown Saturdays. I’m kidding nobody calls them that. But whatever.
So! Here I am. And there you are. What to talk about? I’m done with Covid. Boring. Yaaaawn! There’s not much to say: we need vaccines, we ain’t got ’em, Sydney’s in a spot of bother and that could fuck the whole country. Could, but hopefully wont. Ring of steel, baby! Sorry for calling you baby, that’s inappropriate. Unless you’re Eva. Or an actual baby. Babies shouldn’t be reading this, hafta be over 13 to use Bookface.
So. What else is happening in the world? Olympics! That’s happening. Shouldn’t be. WTF you’d put a major international sporting event on in a country with a 7-day average of 3,500 cases is beyond me. Except it’s not beyond me, I know exactly why. The IOC is an horrible, corrupt, immoral organisation that doesn’t appear to care about anything but money.
Don’t get me wrong, I can recognise the important role that sport plays in humanity’s enduring struggle. I used to be very dismissive – I don’t care much for team games, and I barely care for swimming despite being a committed swimmer and coach in earlier decades. But I can see now – especially during/after lockdowns – just how important it is for people to have an outlet, something to cheer and hope for, an experience that transcends coronavirus and lockdowns and masks. And if you need to appreciate sport at all, just watch the last episode of The Last Leg and see how much the cast and crew – and indeed all of the United Kingodm – were absorebed by the Euro 2020 final.
So yeah, I can acknowledge that sport has a beneficial role to play in our lives. From the watching to the participating. But having something as big as the Olympics, with its 33 sports and 46 disciplines, is a completely different kettle of fish during a pandemic. I mean, I’m stunned at how well the Australian Open was handled. No major outbreaks, just a few little flare ups here and there. But to do that on the scale of the Olympics, with the aforementioned 33 sports… even without spectators that’s a massive undertaking. And to do it with thousands of cases per day, in a nation with a healthcare system already overloaded…. madness. Greed, obstinance, and madness.
But… happening they are. Whether I think it’s a good idea or not (it’s a bad idea). So… enjoy them. Watch them. You might as well. I mean why not cheer for our swimmers, our athletes, our gymnasts. Our skateboarders and bike riders and hockey players. Go for it. Aussie, aussie, aussie and all that shit.
But don’t think it’s the perfect, noble operation that it’s marketed as. Don’t pretent it doesn’t have a huge detrimental effect on the environment. Don’t think of it as egalitarian or feminist (look at why the Norwegian Handball team got fined). Don’t think it is anything other than a massive transnational corporation that puts money first, men second, spectators third and athletes much much further down.
It’s a good watch, and enjoy it if you want to. But it’s far more important that you watch Ms Represented with Anabelle Crabb. Watch that to see what’s really going on in our political system (and therefore in boardrooms across the nation and in organisations around the world like the Olympics). Fantastic show. Especially the end of Episode 2 – stirring to see the likes of Julia Gillard, Sarah Hanson-Young, Brittany Higgins et al speaking up and shouting “No More!”
Stirring stuff.
And if you ever get the chance, please – PLEASE! I beg you! – kick John Coates in the fork as hard as you possibly can. You will be doing the world a favor.
Also if you ever get the chance, eat cheese. Drink wine. Kiss boobies*. You will be doing yourself, and the world, a favor.
ADDENDUM:
Also kick Clive Palmer in the fork. But harder. Harder than you’ve ever kicked anything in your life. And keep kicking him in the fork. Kick him faster. Kick him harder. Kick him stronger. Just keep kick kick kicking Clive Palmer in the fork as much as you can. Few people deserve it more than that bloated blobfish of bloviating bullshit.
* With consent. Enthusi-fucking-astic consent.