CaptCliff on the Olympics

The official opening of the Olympic Games in London was impressive. Honestly I thought they got off to a slow start and by the time they worked their way up to Britain’s proud heritage as an employer of soot covered children and Mary Poppins-style chimney sweeps I was ready for a small but well placed Atlanta style terrorist bombing or  American Revolution.  Dont they realize we have zero attention span over here across the pond? Who really needed (or was interested in) the whole “we used to be Hobbits” Celtic choreography followed by the annoying actor doing his Shakesperian, “we are literate and you are not” Bilbo Baggins with sideburns routine? Luckily the show segued eventually into the great music that Great Britain is known for. The breadth and scope of British talent in defining so many different genres of music and showmanship are remarkable, especially given their uniformly bad teeth and lack of oral hygiene.

Be honest with me, when you think of the Royal family and people like Prince Charles, do you first think of polo ponies or an entire race of human beings who LOOK like horses and dress like Austin Powers?  Speaking of sex symbols, I was disappointed that one of my old favorites, 72 year old Welsh singer Tom Jones was unable to perform in London due to an apparent overdose of botox injections and face-lifts. Before he could launch into his medley of hit songs including “What’s New Pussycat” (see below) and “It’s Not Unusual”, his face retracted into a fixed grimace that barely allowed him to breath let alone gyrate his pelvis. Middle aged fans who remember the sexy singer from their childhood were horrified to see him carried off in a semi- rigor mortis position on a 1940’s era hospital gurney by faux nurses and male dancers dressed like Dickens characters who periodically stopped administering CPR to do the Funky Chicken and the Twist. That part was disturbing to me on many levels, not the least of which was my fear they would then bring out the embalmed bodies of John Lennon and Winston Churchill and make them do somersaults over a holographic image of Princess Diana.

Finally things calmed down and they started the flag bearing procession of participating countries and their athletes which lasted, as I calculated it, several days. Anyway, the next thing you know I fell asleep and missed the whole part involving Muhammed Ali  punching out the Queen and the lighting of the Olympic torch by a bare-chested David Beckham using his wife Posh Spice (Victoria Beckham) as kindling and Mr. Bean as starter fluid. Maybe it was all just a weird Freudian dream I had when I was asleep. I just wanted to see some swimming,  ping-pong and really tall chicks who can spike volleyballs. At least there were no obnoxious Kardashians in sight and Justin Bieber didn’t descend from the clouds holding an umbrella or  strapped to a hang glider. I’m grateful for that. That will have to wait for the next time the Summer Games return to American soil. I’m thinking Boca Raton 2020!! Look for a new grueling Olympic event by then, Skeet Shooting while insulting people in front of you in line at Publix Pharmacy while talking in a thick New York accent. Very competitive.

Tom Jones:


About captaincliff

Psychologist by day, insomniac Pirate blogger by night, this Child of God likes to share sarcastic social commentary as well as topsy-turvy observations about life, love and the pursuit of zaniness, a functional form of insanity in an increasingly insane world
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