COLUMN: It’s all about drugs
Anybody who watched or attended Olympic events this year will testify that drug use was rampant. Not among the athletes or the spectators, but certainly among the organizers and officials. The new Gonzo, happenin, taped-for-primetime-TV, rude dude games are about as far from the ancient Greek origins as St. Patrick’s Day is from the Catholic Church.
The costumes of ice dancing alone would demonstrate conclusively that drugs taken in the ’60s do cause flashbacks. I personally had several flashbacks to clothes I shouldn’t have worn then and don’t want to be reminded of now. The Swiss had those long silver coats with upturned red lapels that made them look like some sort of techno Count Dracula, and for every medal ceremony we trotted out kids dressed as dust mops.
The judges, who hadn’t planned on being on television nearly as much as the athletes, showed nearly no imagination in attire or hair styles.
The hot clothing items of the Games turned out to be the USA berets and an astounding number of other apparel by a copy called “Roots.” This in itself is a clever little flashback. While these clothes are supplanting Nike, Tommy Hilfiger and Old Navy among the new generation of tri-colored hair athletes, the company is most fondly remembered by middle-aged ex-Earth muffins.
It was the rival company to Earth Shoes – those funky negative heeled shoes designed to reverse the numbing effects of all those high-heeled disco shoes. I actually had a green suede pair. At least I think I did.
While the Summer Olympics still need to be held accountable for synchronized swimming, it seems to have retained a little more dignity. The Winter Games seem to be making an extra effort to fill time with more superfluous events. Curling is the obvious butt of the joke, but what exactly is the difference between ice dancing and figure skating?
Team ski jumping sounds more exciting than it is because none of the team members are actually connected as they jump, they just take turns and add up the score. Luge and skeleton would be more aptly named headfirst and feet-first. I’m betting on either the saucer or inner tube to debut as a demonstration sport the next time around.
Some city officials are getting giddy over some reports that things went so well that Salt Lake City should hold the Games again. I’m not sure this is the compliment it seems. I feel about the same as when the Western governors came out to inspect the Tooele nerve gas repository and said we were doing such a great job that Utah ought to take care of all the nation’s nerve gas.
At the cross country ski venue the crowd had to endure some DJ-like person from KBLAB at the venue leading rounds of Queen’s “We will, we will – rock you” stomp, stomp, and that “funk soul brother” song that is a staple of every high school football halftime show.
The venue also featured cowboys, teepees, Dutch-oven cooking, clog dancing and Budweiser. I know we do want to share some of our culture with the world, I’m just not sure why it couldn’t be a little more of our current culture given that the cowboy history is more about bloody wars and land grabs than it is quaint nostalgia. Of course to most of the world all the land between New York City and Los Angeles is Marlboro Country.
I’m not really knocking the Games. I had a surreal good time.