Roman's Olympics Wrap Up

I am absolutely dumbfounded by the unbelievable artistry that was the opening and closing ceremonies of the Olympic Games. Did you see them? They displayed so much unearthly, mindboggling intricacy that you'd be watching and simultaneously questioning your eyes. Could this really, actually be happening? Is it physically possible for perfection to exist on this scale?

If I had my druthers, absolutely not.

We saw an enormous metal globe suspended in midair with runners sprinting around it, oblivious to gravity. We saw a thousand people raising and lowering boxes with otherworldly precision. We saw floating 3D whales, people making enormous pictures by waving big wooden oars, and hundreds of neon-wheel bicycles weaving through intricate patterns made by five thousand costumed dancers.

And what is it that made such repellent spectacles possible? The inflexible upper hand of a totalitarian regime.

I angrily switched off these showy displays the second they were over. They totally, completely disgusted me. Because what kind of nation would inspire twenty thousand people to toil ceaselessly for six months, fifteen hours a day to create such masterworks? Where in the world would such sheer numbers of people, out of unabashed love for their country, don diapers so their bodily functions wouldn't interrupt their training? Not the USA, that's for sure.

Towards the end of the Closing Ceremony, when the focus moved from China to London, I began to regain my sense of hope. Thank God, with our pure, unblemished Olympics finally wrested from the filthy hands of such a backward nation, we'll never see anything like this again. Goodbye five thousand neon-lit drummers; hello Leona Lewis!

I for one can't wait until the next Olympics shows the world exactly what's possible in a nation that respects human rights. Will we see another double-decker bus drive around? Will David Beckham knock over another Japanese schoolgirl with a soccer ball? I know I speak for millions of freedom-lovers when I say that four years from now, I hope to see a half-assed, uninspired show. I hope to see something that was created by designers whose contracts specify twenty-minute Starbucks breaks every half an hour, lit by union workers who are paid ninety dollars an hour to screw in light bulbs, filmed by men who get eight days paternity leave every time their dogs have puppies. I want to see oceans of bored young people only taking part so they'll have something rude to write in their blogs. And then I'm going to leap up off my couch and say, "Now that's what we stand for in the good ole' USA!"