I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again. I just love the Olympics.
I can’t be bothered with the media spectacle, all that opening-ceremonies-a-guy-got-killed stuff. That’s for media whores and their pimps. I love the actual competitions.
The beauty of streaming instead of watching on TV is that you get loads of raw replay without any cheerful commentator dicks ruining the fun for you. Think about it — commentators are an insult to intelligence. It’s like reading a book while Bob Costas stands behind you, “interpreting” the narrative. As if we’re clods and can’t understand what our eyes show us.
NBC’s Olympics web site is impenetrable, with an information architecture that makes the Minotaur’s labyrinth seem like a straight line from entrance to exit. But once you find the raw-replay links, there is plenty to behold.
Today, while writing and folding laundry, I’m watching the men’s luge singles (2 of 4) from yesterday. Pity that today’s finals aren’t immediately available. Those of us without broadcast TV are accustomed to being punished by network totalitarians when we want its content on the superior web.
One thing becomes clear after watching over an hour of luge runs. The Germans and Russians rock. The Austrians are pretty good. The Americans are so-so. The Japanese and Koreans are terrible. Oh, and lugers (lugists?) have amazing thighs and asses. All that superhero lycra makes me dizzy.
I know somebody died the other day, but I don’t know who and I’m not dwelling on it (that’s what blame press is for), other than to say that a Swede or Finlander (or one of those little boutique countries) banged into the side of the luge tube and fell off his sled (or whatever you call it). It was a frightening thing to watch since these chaps are moving at near sub-light speeds. He recovered by getting back onto his sled while hurtling downhill at 80 miles per hour and finishing the run unharmed. It was amazing, and instead of dick commentators ruining the purity of the moment, all you could hear was the raucous cheers of fans who, for a moment, were caught in breathless dread.