Davey Crockett
Well the hoopla has started already about the upcoming Athens Olympic Frolicks.
With the Dutchies refusing to sign the ludicrous bondage indentures, Jan saying he might ride, Lance
saying he might not, and **** Pound shaking his tambourine around the corporate offices of the world
and his minions shaking whatever money trees, governmental or otherwise, that they can find to stuff
a few more billions into the overflowing swill trough that Pound (**** by name; **** by nature) and
a few selected buddies stick their snouts and both trotters into.
All in the cause of a coupla weeks or so of a Jingoistic pissing match (We got more medals than you
pathetic Wankerz)
Competition is great, Davey would be the first to support that concept, and bike races in
particular. But in Greece? Geez, last I heard the search parties were still out for some of the lads
who disappeared into the cavernous potholes in the roads they used for the Tour a few years back.
And where does the money all go. Like the untold BILLIONS? ****'s probably taking a hefty slice
right off the top as he's pretty miffed that Jacques Rogge got Juan Antonio's job when he finally
stepped down and he's still talking to himself and wondering who put the fix in on that caper.
But what happened to the rest?
The athletes don't get it and that's for sure.
As is well known, the athletes get the shaft in competitions where the judges are as crooked as a
dogs back leg - just ask the Cubans!
So maybe we should haul down the Citius, Altius, Fortius banner after next year's vulgar spectacle
in the Land Where it All Began and leave the ghosts of Hector and Lysander to peacefully tread the
paths that Socrates trod and bathe in Homer's Wine-dark Sea unhindered henceforth.
The Olympics were a beautiful creation of Baron Pierre de Coubertin, inspired, at least in part, by
his reading of Thomas Hughes' classic, Tom Brown's Schooldays.
But I'm pretty sure de Coubertin wouldn't be resting so easily in his grave in Lausanne and his
heart would be jumping out of that Stele in Olympia if he could see what a Nightmare his dream has
turned into.
--
le vent a Dos
Davey Crockett
With the Dutchies refusing to sign the ludicrous bondage indentures, Jan saying he might ride, Lance
saying he might not, and **** Pound shaking his tambourine around the corporate offices of the world
and his minions shaking whatever money trees, governmental or otherwise, that they can find to stuff
a few more billions into the overflowing swill trough that Pound (**** by name; **** by nature) and
a few selected buddies stick their snouts and both trotters into.
All in the cause of a coupla weeks or so of a Jingoistic pissing match (We got more medals than you
pathetic Wankerz)
Competition is great, Davey would be the first to support that concept, and bike races in
particular. But in Greece? Geez, last I heard the search parties were still out for some of the lads
who disappeared into the cavernous potholes in the roads they used for the Tour a few years back.
And where does the money all go. Like the untold BILLIONS? ****'s probably taking a hefty slice
right off the top as he's pretty miffed that Jacques Rogge got Juan Antonio's job when he finally
stepped down and he's still talking to himself and wondering who put the fix in on that caper.
But what happened to the rest?
The athletes don't get it and that's for sure.
As is well known, the athletes get the shaft in competitions where the judges are as crooked as a
dogs back leg - just ask the Cubans!
So maybe we should haul down the Citius, Altius, Fortius banner after next year's vulgar spectacle
in the Land Where it All Began and leave the ghosts of Hector and Lysander to peacefully tread the
paths that Socrates trod and bathe in Homer's Wine-dark Sea unhindered henceforth.
The Olympics were a beautiful creation of Baron Pierre de Coubertin, inspired, at least in part, by
his reading of Thomas Hughes' classic, Tom Brown's Schooldays.
But I'm pretty sure de Coubertin wouldn't be resting so easily in his grave in Lausanne and his
heart would be jumping out of that Stele in Olympia if he could see what a Nightmare his dream has
turned into.
--
le vent a Dos
Davey Crockett
