The good thing about being a semi- anonymous blogger is that
I can change my mind without anyone noticing. I was initially quite cynical
about the Olympic games being held in London, some might say I were a sourpuss,
others might have called me a miserable whiney cunt, or a ‘stupid prick’ a few
might have called me a Roynish Clown
(they are the ones that I like the best because you can’t beat a bit of
Shakespearian insultery ) To these
people, I say ‘fuck off’ I am allowed an opinion.
Out of these three distinctive types of people, there may be
subgroups who might be happy that I have changed my minds (for I have many,
that wasn’t just a typing error that I decided to leave in there so that I
could write some bizarre explanation about having lots of minds, even though it
isn’t true,) about the Olympics, that once the politicians have all shut the
fuck up, and I have managed to zone out the overload of McDonalds, Coca-Cola
and other companies tagging the Olympic name next to theirs even though these
companies are ideologically opposed to the spirit of sport, fitness and
inclusivity (not sure why I used inclusivity as the third in the rule of three,
but then again I have not written anything in a while, so if anyone reads it,
they will hopefully give me a break,) where was I? Ah yes, that once the dust
settled on the hype and I actually saw the Olympics in action, that I might
change my mind; Because of this the three categories 1) Sourpuss 2) miserable
whiney cunt/’stupid prick’ 3) Roynish
Clown will again split into three separate categories: 1) Yay! He
changed his mind and is getting into the Olympic spirit, 2) fucking silly cunt
doesn’t even have the integrity to stand by his convictions or 3) I don’t
really care, I expected him to do that and my original thoughts on him still
stand.
Option 1)
Deny making any derogatory terms about the Olympics. One of the things that changed my mind about the Olympics were the opening ceremony, Danny Boyle refocused my attention on Britain’s achievements; Isembard Brunel, literature, music, Mike Oldfield, Paolo Nutella and multiculturalism. The last one, funnily enough was enough to upset the Tory MP Aiden Burley and the Daily Mail writer Rick Dewsbury both of whom backtracked (or in the Daily Mail example, was probably backtracked by an editor who realized that this sounds racist even for the daily mail.) after making some quite borderline comments. Seeing as these people have probably never been to Thamesmead, Woolwich, Peckham, Tottenham, Brick Lane, Whitechapel, Ladbroke Grove, Brixton, Stockwell, Westbourne Park, Harlesden, Kilburn, or any other part of London that isn’t Richmond upon Thames, or Belgravia; they would fail to see how multiculturalism actually works. The Daily Mail article originally looked like this:
“This was supposed to be a representation of modern life in England but it is likely to be a challenge for the organisers to find an educated white middle-aged mother and black father living together with a happy family in such a set-up.
Almost, if not every, shot in the next sequence included an ethnic minority performer. The BBC presenter Hazel Irvine gushed about the importance of grime music (a form of awful electronic music popular among black youths) to east London. This multicultural equality agenda was so staged it was painful to watch.”
before
being edited to look a little more like this:
“This was supposed to be a representation of modern life in England but such set-ups are simply not the ‘norm’ in any part of the country. So why was it portrayed like this and given such prominence? If it was intended to be something that we can celebrate, that two people with different colour skin and different cultural heritages can live harmoniously together, then it deserves praise.
But what will be disturbing to many people is top-down political manipulation – whether consciously or unthinkingly – at a major sporting event.”
So I could go back in
time and revise all the statements I had ever made to fit in with my viewpoint
as it is today, (or at least make my views seem less in a light that will make
me look bad. which is exactly what the daily mail did.)
Option 2)
Pretend I was hacked, which is, no doubt what the girl who
made the abusive twitter comment to Tom Daily is doing at the very second I am
writing this. And that is the reason why there is one anti Olympic standpoint
and a reasonably pro standpoint next to it. Obviously, having two different
viewpoints isn’t quite the same as insulting prominent sportsmen over the
internet about their dead dad what died of a brain tumour, but in the cold
light of day, it is apparently the good thing to do to stand by your principles
and stick to your guns. Which is why I have so much respect for the Catholic
Church, because they won’t change their mind on the use of contraception even
though it could prevent a HIV epidemic in the developing world, like they
didn’t change their mind when Galileo announced that the Earth went around the
sun, not vice-versa? So if I were to pretend to have been hacked, I would be
able to maintain the same high morals and sheer bloody mindedness of God’s
representative on earth.
Option 3)
Just leave it so that the six potential demographics might
realize that it isn’t a problem to change your mind. Someone living in an
Olympic hotspot (and there are fuckloads of them) may be worried about the
impact it might have on their lives and then after seeing the Olympic machine
in action, have their mind put at rest. The problem with this is that if people
don’t like this, or indeed any of my other blogs, they might anonymously write
‘stupid prick’ in the comments page, and if that were to happen, I’d be
shattered, my fragile ego left in taqtters, (which is just the word tatters but
with a typing error in it, and that ‘q’ alone, denotes that the mere thought of
someone anonymously writing ‘stupid prick’ in a comments section of my blog
makes me so upset thst it s stoping mem frm typring prprley.) I take solace in
the fact that if hypothetically someone did write ‘stupid prick’ in the
comments section of one of my blog-posts, that they probably wouldn’t have been
able to articulate a decent response to any witty comeback that I might have
made in return: which would have been either
a) I’m
sorry you feel that way, manmachine201 does everything in its power to make its
reader (casual or otherwise) and we are sorry that on this occasion we have
failed to do so. Please accept my middle finger which smells of your mums
vagina held under your nose whilst I stick the middle finger up your bum. (My
big toe has been up your gran too, so that is three generations of your family
I have inserted myself into, but then again, that is exactly the kind of place
you might expect to find a ‘stupid prick.’)
Regards
Manmachine201
b) More
like you are one!
c) Ouch,
that really hurt my feelings.
Obviously all this is hypothetical, so if it ever were to
happen, I would use one of those options above, but all this is swaying very
much from the point that once I have gotten over the unease of the huge
military presence in my home town, been put at rest by the enthusiasm and
friendliness of the Olympic volunteers (who have made the area I live in a joy
to wander through) and allowed myself to get emotional at the opening ceremony,
it turned out that the Olympics isn’t that bad at all, and if that makes me a
stupid prick, then I’ll gladly piss through the cat flap of anyone who told me
so.
Now I’m off to BBC red button… there is female weightlifting
on and this stupid prick isn’t gonna pull itself.
PHWOOOOOOOAAAR!!!
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