Column: Not Quite Nietzsche; Now that the Olympics are over, it’s back to real TV
The Olympics are a great time to put aside our differences, come together as human beings and celebrate each other. They are also, of course, a great time for some serious gloating and ethnocentrism.
That said, I am glad that they’re finally over. These two weeks have been a major disappointment for Am-erica. Michelle Kwan had to drop out, Sasha Cohen came short of gold, and, due to the IOC’s refusal to made drunken karaoke singing an Olympic event, Bode Miller is coming home empty handed.
Torino was tame compared to the 2002 Salt Lake Games when I was the one waiting for the IOC to accept drunken karaoke singing.
I’m not an “American Idol” fan, but considering the total dearth of human interest in this year’s Olympics, I don’t blame the rest of the country for choosing Simon Cowell over the ultimate symbol of world peace and universal brotherhood.
The contestants of “American Idol,” after all, are much better looking than your typical Olympic hopeful. What’s more, they are relatable.
I will never be a world-class athlete, but that doesn’t stop me from watching “American Idol,” “Laguna Beach,” or any other number of bad reality shows and thinking, “I could totally do that.”
I’m comfortable with a culture of mediocrity because I am mediocre. And while that kind of attitude doesn’t make Olympic gold, it will make a wickedly good argument between me and the token tree-hugging world saver on the next season of “The Real World.”
I’m not saying that reality TV stars deserve medals, but it would be nice to have someone recognize me next time I’m in the food court. This reminds me of another advantage to not being an Olympic hopeful: I can eat in the food court.
I just don’t have the dedication, focus or determination to even look like an Olympic competitor. We’ve all watched their steeled faces right before an event, and let me just say that the last time I mustered up a look that serious I was passing a kidney stone.
And this is what lies at the heart at my beef with the Olympics. I can’t watch them without feeling a little guilty about sitting at home and watching TV. The Olympics are proof that while I’ve been wasting every second of time outside of school and work, there is a whole community of people who are training like a people possessed. It doesn’t help that their extreme fitness reminds me a little of “The Predator” or “Terminator II.”
But now that it’s all over, I can go back to “The O.C.” and “The Office” and revel in watching losers just like me. Well, almost just like me. Sort of. I may not have rich parents and truckloads of drama or a dead-end job, but at least I can watch those who do without the fear of their crawling through the TV and pile-driving me as some sort of ancient Greek victory dance.
And as if that thought isn’t bad enough already, I can only imagine what skates or skis would do to my carpet.
I love the Olympics as much as the next guy, but they’re just not conducive to my lifestyle. Now that they’re over, I’m going to celebrate by ordering in and wearing sweat pants for a week. God bless America.
Zach Pendleton is a columnist for the Utah Statesman. Commetns can be sent to zpendleton@cc.usu.edu