The Clownface Is the Window to the Soul

The Olympics are such a weird combination of ridiculous atheleticism; obsessive dedication to things that seem like they might be fun, but not if you're doing them hours at a time almost everyday for the past four years (e.g., luge); minute differences in speed that have to be within the margin of reasonable error and are otherwise undetectable to the human eye (long-track speed skating); post-Cold-War nationalism; and bizarre theatricality.

Also, the Olympics are one of those things that people don't care about at all for years on end, but then for two weeks they care about them a lot. I am not immune to this sentiment myself:  I don't like Apolo Anton Ohno. I don't know why, but I really, really like Hannah Teter. What's weird though is that I have not thought about either of these two humans since 2006, and this week I was made to remember they exist and respectively started hating and loving them again.

So, the Olympics are a weird thing is what I am saying. And I know they're E's beat, and I should end this post, but the weirdest thing about the Olympics is that humanity never allows two people to be as ridiculous as Sevchenko and Szolkowy (pictured above), but the Olympics does, and gives them bronze medals. In life if you open your routine with the old miming clown popping out of the window thing, aren't you automatically disqualified? Anyway, immediately after writing this, I am going to forget that they exist, and then when they pop up again in Sochi dressed like disco era Martians in blackface, I'm going to be what is up with those two? All over again.