I need to clarify up front: Jessica and I love the Olympics. Love. LOVE. We love the cheese, we love the sappy NBC packages designed to weave our heartstrings into a quilt of tears, we love the actual sports, we love the flags, we love the anthems, we love Wry Bob Costas, we love being super frustrated by all the commentating… All of it. But that doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun with it, right? And the opening ceremony in London was, in a word, supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. Which is olde-timey musical speak for “WTF.”
If I were in charge — and what I’m about to say is among the many reasons why I am NOT in charge — I would’ve been like, “Look, we’re not going to beat Beijing. That shit was intense. So let’s just have a big ol’ rock concert and then blow off some fireworks every fifteen minutes.” Or maybe I would’ve done an homage to my favorite things about growing up over there, like all those murdery royals, pubs, castles, Abbeys, murdery royals buried in various ‘minsters next to their sworn mortal enemies because the Brits want drama even in the afterlife, and of course admirably flavored potato crisps (my interpretive dance for “Prawn Cocktail” flavor would have been majestic). Maybe all of the above, with Joan Collins coming in on a barge. Sniffle. Oh, what might have been…
[Photos: Getty]
