A Word On The 2010 Games…
Some people of a cynical nature might suggest that a bit of white washing is going down in regards to the Vanoc committee. It may be unfair to regard a private corporation who holds sway over a city as a bunch of insane corporate yahoos who’s only goal appears to be bankrupting the city for a one time shot at world re-known. If I wasn’t a lady, I’d probably say “Oh shit, the Olympics are coming – there goes the neighborhood.” But in trying to give the Vanoc peeps a fair crack at the benefit of a doubt, let’s face it… they are kind of shooting themselves (and a lot of other folks too) in the proverbial foot.
I live close to downtown. Which is going to be enforced that you can only walk, cycle or take transit. Normally, that might sound all Gibson-esque Utopian, but as a water locked city, that’s going to make it hard for a lot of locals to get around. Add on top of that the out-of-towners who will be descending on our fair city like a plague of locusts, and all of a sudden any and all public transit becomes a giant group grope. As much as I try to justify it, that just doesn’t sound appealing to me. I also can’t picture a shit ton of Olympic athletes and their respective entourages bringing their own bicycles. I think that the phrase “What the fuck were they thinking?” might suit this situation. But it gets a little more interesting…
Consider that the Vancouver Symphony refused the invitation to record music for the 2010 ceremonies (probably on the grounds that most of them can’t get to work because of the idiotic temporary traffic rules). What actually happened was they were asked to record the music but have VSO maestro Bramwell Tovey step aside and let someone else pantomime his movements for the games. Yeah… I don’t know of the mom’s of Vanoc’s committees are suitably embarrassed at their offspring yet, but I’m beginning to wonder where Vancouver’s theoretical federal mother is on this one.
I just have to wonder, since you would think if you have thirteen kids (or provinces and territories) and one is making the rest of the family look like damn fools, then wouldn’t the parental unit (or federal parental unit, as it were) come down and give them a cuff upside the head? And failing that, wouldn’t the rest of the family (or Commonwealth countries) start making remarks that would suitably embarrass the head into taking action? I don’t know.
I might no complain about this so strenuously if this kind of coin was dropped on arts funding, but then again the rampant commercialization would probably just wind up leaving a horrible bitter taste. So in lieu of that, I’ll take the taste of my green tea, try to get zen, and hope that all the athlete’s kneecaps painlessly pop off at once, thereby calling the whole deal off.
And I will go make some scones to try and get rid of that bitter taste in my mouth.
Namaste.
Little Miss Risk
