closing ceremonies, beijing

~ So it looks like China blew its wad on the opening ceremonies.

~ Check out the drummers in the bike helmets. Stealing supplies from the athletes’ lockers, I see. Tsk, tsk.

~ Yeah, you know, I saw all this in one of the Oz movies, that freaky one with Fairuza Balk.

~ I wonder if there will be more goose-stepping by the Chinese military. I do prefer my Olympic experiences to be bookended by displays of large-scale ominous imperialism.

~ You know, that Bird’s Nest stadium is dammmn ugly. It has to be said. I think The Hair Ball would have been a better name and I think it should be demolished now that the games are over, just for me. Unless they need it as the site for future persecution of Chinese Christians and athletes who failed to win gold.

~ I’m a little grumpy right now.

~ Gah. Are they kidding? The Chinese government spent $40 BILLION on these Olympics??? Holy moly! You would think they wouldn’t have to steal equipment from the lockers, then.

~ There’s my pet, the beefy peach!! She’s only 4-8, you know. She’ll fit great in her new Lincoln Log Cabin for Pocket Pets and Olympic Gymnasts!

~ Oh, look. A choir of telegenic kiddies singing — er, lip-syncing — the Olympic anthem.

~ Attention, Mayor of London: Please button your jacket. Just because you’re the love child of Rodney Dangerfield and Phil Donahue doesn’t mean you have to look like a schlub.

~ Now the President of the IOC, the mayor of London, and the mayor of Beijing take awkward turns waving the Olympic flag. It is entirely gay.

~ Did I mention I’m a little grumpy right now?

~ Here comes a double-decker bus that says “London 2012.” A bunch of actors dressed in London street clothes lumber like zombies towards the bus. I do prefer my Olympic closing ceremonies to feature zombies whenever possible, as long as they are international zombies.

~ What are “London street clothes,” Trace?

~ Shut up, me.

~ The bus just unfolded — uhm, I guess — and British pop star Leona Lewis appears. She starts vocalizing. Seriously. It sounds like scales. Sort of.

~ Oh, here’s Jimmy Page. Wow. Isn’t he dead??

~ They perform together, I guess is what you’d call it. I don’t actually know what I’d call it.

~ I’m uncomfortable.

~ David Beckham randomly appears.

~ Some actors pretending to be athletes pretending to say goodbye to their pretend Chinese friends. They climb an airplane stairway to nowhere and stand there. Don’t fall, goobers.

~ One actor/athlete unrolls a scroll …. there is a pause. Oh, dear GOD! The 7 years of tribulation have begun!!!!

~ Not really.

~ Again, I cannot stress enough that I am kidding here.

~ That didn’t really happen.

~ Two dudes painted white dance together atop some metal thingie. I’d prefer they do this in the privacy of their own home, but hey, I’m a gammie that way.

~ Back to scroll boy. He looks at the scroll, then gazes longingly at the Olympic flame. So I guess I’m supposed to, too.

~ Oh, the flame goes out.

~ People in the audience boo, basically.

~ Ingrates.

~ That was $40 billion, pippa. Shut yer yaps.

~ People dressed in mylar undulate on the aforementioned metal thingie.

~ Now they’re all lumped together, moving. Making flowers or babies or something.

~ Symbolism is irritating.

~ I’m grumpy. Have we covered that?

~ There’s a lot of bug-like crawling. Furious activity. Dragging of long red-orange cloths. Oh, I see. They come together and make the Olympic flame. Or a fire poker. But probably the Olympic flame.

~ It lives on. Get it?

~ Oh, dear. Chinese pop stars. Oh, dear. It’s giving me flashbacks to my flight to Thailand on Korean Air where all they kept playing was the caterwauling of some Korean Rosie O’Donnell lookalike who is a huge pop star in their country.

~ There was a commercial and now they’re back and the Chinese pop stars are still singing. It is god-awful. You know it’s true, God. Don’t get all mad at me.

~ Jackie Chan is singing. It IS the Apocalypse.

~ Chinese disco and fireworks and The Beast rising from the sea.

~ Ooh! Hold the Apocalypse! It’s my Olympic crush, Michael Phelps, from London. Thank you, Jesus. No bathing suit, though; a shirt and pants. Oh, well. If he can win 8 gold medals, I imagine I can cope with his clothes-wearing. He wants to pinch himself, he says. Oh, lemme help you with that, Peaches.

~ Placido Domingo now to cleanse the musical palate. Chinese girls twirl around in white gowns like Greek goddesses.

~ And …. it’s all over. I’m still grumpy. But now, believe it or not, kind of sad, too.

~ Farewell, Olympics 2008. You were truly spectacular.