Endings, Beginnings
In the New York Times to-day, reading about the closing ceremonies in Beijing (since I will not watch them later on this evening), David Barbosa, author of “Olympics Close With a Bang and a Double Decker Bus” writes in the opening paragraph:
“With another dramatic fireworks display Sunday evening at the National Stadium here, the Beijing Olympics came to a dazzling close, ending two weeks of spectacular athletic performances during an Olympic competition that was surprising free of protests or the disruptions that some, including Beijing, had anticipated.”
Surprisingly free of protests? Really. Surprising? In my opinion this is about as irresponsible a sentence as you can write as a journalist on staff of the Times. Do we not understand that the Chinese government is a Communist, repressive, totalitarian government? Are we really surprised that protests and disruptions never materialized? That the Communist Party itself is pleasantly amazed? If we are, we deserve to get run over by Soviet/Russian tanks, Georgia-style. We have got to be the most naive, egocentric, internationally-inexperienced citizens on this globe, save those obscure tribes in the Amazon (which, I’m quite sure are being slaughtered or pushed out by deforestation). This is what the Central Committee of a Communist party does: makes issues go away. Erases problems. People disappear for merely whispering. Or gathering. Even octogenarians get sent to be re-educated. No one’s safe. We better wake up and stop using froo-froo, laudatory language and kid gloves on this country. Call it for what it is: repressive, reprehensive, a relentless abuser of human rights, totalitarian. I fully realize that, politically, we have a different game on our hands, but the media ought to go full steam ahead and cut into China. We have a free press and so it must do its job. Let the politicians pussyfoot around and draft accords and protocols (which will be violated anyway, given the Chinese track record). The few articles I have read on abuses and crackdown by the Chinese government are relegated to page 7 or 8, and they often take a bit of a condescending tone, portraying those who protest as disturbers of the peace or militants or liberal “bleeding hearts.”
Despite my disgust, I watched enough Olympic Games to be revolted at the way this Awakened Giant comported itself on the world stage, and at the way we let it get away with it in the press. From the age controversy of its female gymnasts, the ridiculous apology of Liu Xiang, China’s gold medal hope in hurdles, who was injured and unable to defend his title in the 110-meter hurdles, to its obsession with the medal count and its #1 standing in gold medals won. Imagine having to apologize to an entire country for a chance, unforeseen injury. Imagine having let down your motherland because you’ve twisted your ankle training, and being held responsible for somewhat shaming your country by not even competing. But that’s what the Chinese government demands. Expects.
The focus now moves to London, in 2012. During the closing, Jimmy Page made a special appearance cranking out “Whole Lotta Love,” and Beckham took a football from a little girl’s arms in a presumed “handing over of the games” metaphor. Even a red, double-decker bus made an appearance in the infield, escorted by a bizarre trio of cyclists. Can we trot out any more stereotypes, please? How about a mob of hooligans armed with two-by-fours who proceed to beat the living daylights out of the spectators? How about a Yeoman Warder (a Beefeater) with his furry hat marching down, exchanging keys with the mayor of Beijing. A British judge donning his oh-so-recognizable wig and holding tightly to his leather docket. Hell, bring out the Queen. But wait. The Queen Is Dead. Unfortunately, the Olympic flame lives on. And so it goes. The world sporting attention now moves to New York City and the U.S. Open Tennis Championships. I’m rooting for Federer, but something tells me Nadal will swipe it all. It’s all right by me. I love the Spaniards. I love this passionate (and compassionate) kid. And so for Nadal here it goes: Vamos, cabron!
Summer is un-officially over around these parts and frankly I’m happy. Although the unrelenting heat will not dissipate until late October, this at least signals a change coming. I’m happy daylight hours are shorter. I’m happy my daughter is going back to school, back to a more structured environment of learning than summer camp. I’m happy at one point the leaves will turn and the temps. will drop (last year trees went completely bald by late November!!). Momentofchoice and I swung a quick little trip to the beach this past weekend and re-charged the batteries. You can go over to her joint and see what we did. We worked really hard, believe us. This autumn, I promise to come back with more fiction and less personal stuff. I’m also working on putting together the book of shorts. There will be some familiar stories, but they’ll be re-tooled and more material will be added to round them out better. We will publish it ourselves and you’ll be able to either buy an extremely affordable finished product, or simply download the manuscript for free in a .pdf file. I’m excited at the prospect. There is another project after that in the works.
Like most people enduring summer in southern United States, I suffered through an intellectual malaise infused and fed by triple-digit temperatures and overall indolence (maybe genetic, but we’ll swiftly dispel that notion and blame it on the heat).
I’ll see you on the other side of summer.
People as Shrapnel
I watched the opening of the Olympics in Beijing for as long as I could bear. The barrage of advertisements on U.S. television is/was relentless. I am one who usually hits the mute button as soon as commercials take over, only Friday night I grew tired of even doing that. But even so…I did get to see the drummers, the dancers who painted, the hullabaloo. I hung in for about an hour and a half, before I turned off the telly, fired up hulu on momentofchoice’s laptop, and watched a few episodes of WKRP in Cincinnati.
Overall, I’ve heard nothing but praise for the opening. It did just the opposite for me. It reminded me, in fact, that the fundamental idea of this vast, Asian country is Communism at its most rudimentary. I suppose I have a point of reference here, having lived in a former Totalitarian-ruled land. The sheer number of people (see also: drummers; see also: performers) brought to mind the Communist parades. It was frightening, as well as mind-boggling realizing that, should anything dire ever happen politically, the Chinese would be able to throw almost infinite numbers of people at a situation. People as shrapnel. It was un-nerving for me to watch those drummers, in tight unison, chant and hit and gesture and chant some more. I realized that if things turn awry during my lifetime, there’d be an ocean of warriors to stare down. And so for me, the opening was just Communist extravaganza in disguise. Muscle-flexing, really. I do realize you’d have to have my perspective, but…by now if you’ve come here often enough, you know to expect dissent in my personal posts.
I am tired of seeing history presented in show. I have read and can read historical accounts and folk tales and books and haikus and sonnets. I am interested in the simplicity of art, the modernity of it. And so to me, the sparsity of the Japanese dwelling will always be more impressive than the pomp-and-circumstance and clutter of, say, Versailles or Buckingham Palace or any one of the DeMedici villas. The opening ceremonies in Beijing were GRAND. And for me, that was an awful thing. I long one day to see a simple man, perhaps barefoot, walk up to the cauldron, torch in hand, simply setting fire to the damned kettle.
As I grow older I find the entire concept of the Olympics–and competition itself–outdated. It’s an incestuous cousin of politics and war, disguised as an ancient game, which exploits its players. There is as much wrangling and maneuvering and waste and hypocrisy on the IOC as there is in politics in general. Or the United Nations.
Watching the ceremonies I thought: there is nothing new and innovative in any of this. It’s just HUGE. It’s GRAND. It’s based on scale, not idea. The bigger, the more expensive, the better. Even the fireworks turned me off (as they usually do anyway). Because I knew, while the Commies were shooting off their striking display of flammable compositions, innocent people were getting ripped apart in Georgia by Soviet (yes, SOVIET) rockets and tanks. Or…(insert your world conflict here). Just for fun, after patting yourself on the back for supporting or believing in the tradition of the Olympics and the freedom and co-operation it claims to represent, head over here for a comprehensive list of current conflicts (thanks momentofchoice). It really puts things into perspective, doesn’t it. It really smokes out the useless spectacle that is the Olympics for what it truly is: a distraction with heavy political underpinnings, under the guise of the instrument for world harmony and peace.
I expect people to disagree with me profusely. That makes me happy, in fact. It underscores my beliefs and my opinions. I am happy and content with how I think on certain subjects. I am even happier and more content with being a dissenter from traditional values and hypotheses.
