THE OLYMPICS HAVE BECOME PURE DEVIL WORSHIP

Spot on Rant

https://twitter.com/i/status/1817055883152535965

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Now for Jeff Childers

In social media’s biggest story yesterday, mentioned nowhere in the New York Times, Washington Post, or Politico, the organizers of the XXXIII (33rd) Summer Olympics did their very best imitation of Sodom and Gomorrha, highlighting multiple multimedia spectacular set pieces involving large numbers of unattractive cross-dressers reproducing famous religious imagery and performing interpretive dance routines that looked like a group of inexperienced campers being attacked by a giant cloud of mosquitos.

The avante-garde spectacle was, presumably, intended to riffle the feathers of the world’s 2.4 billion Christians, but it backfired. Instead, it seems to have had the unintended effect of exciting mature believers who raced to check off new squares on their Last Days Bingo cards (“Ooh! B-36! That one’s going right into the winepress of wrath.”). For example:

The program’s patriotic theme was “Liberté, égalité, absurdité,” and it landed with a resounding faux pas. Even some atheists were shaking their heads, asking je ne sais quoi the heck?:

Practically begging for a lightning bolt, and auditioning for cameo appearances in Hades, the Olympic Committee rounded up every bearded tranvestite in Paris and liberally deployed makeup in gallon-sized cartons. The opening ceremony’s ‘centerpiece’, if you can call it that, was a living replica of the Last Supper, except featuring poorly-passing, overweight men (and one child, of course) dressed in gayly decorated, over-the-top drag costumes, in a blasphemous facsimile of the Creator of the Universe and his twelve disciples.

The ‘Drag Last Supper’ was only one of several trans-abled segments in an overlong, painfully dull series of performances. Attendees weathered things like fun, modern takes on the French Revolution, a singing, beheaded Marie Antoinette in drag, sordid Gallic themes like the ever-popular ménages à trois. At one point, an apocalyptic metallic horse galloped across the Seine on rails at the exciting pace of an escargot race.

Bearded mimes dressed as gals twerked and cavorted to bizarre electronic music, moving just like electrified frogs in a high-school science experiment, and generally made asses of themselves.

Judging purely by appearances (forgive me), none of these performers had any chance of competing in the Drag Queen 5K’s walking division, much less the Olympics. They appeared (again, sorry) to be best qualified to participate in any event ending with the words “eating contest.” Until very recently, the Olympics used to celebrate peak human performance and althetic ability, but in this 33rd year, they more resembled an amateur LGBTQIAA++ fashion show.

Even the Atlantic seemed unimpressed. “This Was the Best Opening Ceremony Paris Could Give Us?”, its headline asked.

Other corporate media breathlessly covered the least controversial parts of the opening ceremony, which got rained on. I wondered whether reporters’ studious avoidance of the transgender segments confirmed that corporate media knows full well what a repellent eyesore it all was. But I may be overly hopeful in that particular.

French novelist Joseph Conrad once observed that a man can be judged by the quality of his enemies. Well, Christians, there you go.