Chicago: Now Ain’t the Time for Your Tears

My computer is fucked and currently sequestered in the Apple Store, and I’m forced either to wait a week until they fix what I blame on my brother or use the piece-of-shit PC he bequeathed to my mother. He installed work software that rendered my computer completely useless. He insists that he deleted it, but that’s not the point. Ockham’s Razor, everybody: my computer worked, he monkeyed with it—including deleting files that evidently were crucial in order to clear room for the software he needed for work--and then it didn’t work. Pretty simple equation. Anyways, this computer has no left “Shift” key, and subsequently infuriates me each time I want to capitalize something on the right side of my keyboard. This is because I took word processing in high school, and that’s how I learned to type correctly.

Eventually I’ll chronicle the whole stem cell trial process, but for days I’ve been itching to say how thrilled I am that Chicago lost the 2016 bid. No sour grapes here, I assure you. Quite the opposite. When Chicago was eliminated in the first round, I sighed with relief from my hospital bed and grinned like a Cheshire cat as I saw Chicago get elimininated immediately. I'm now out of the hospital, and will detail that experience in the future, starting tonight (probably).

I can’t say enough how much schadenfreude I felt when I saw one older woman cry pathetic crocodile tears at the announcement. Only part of this has to do with the fruitless campaigning that the Obamas and Oprah did in Copenhagen to lobby for Chicago to win the bid. The former has come to represent everything feckless about the current government, and Oprah just annoys me. In vociferous Oprah voice: Your celebrity meant NOOOOOTHING!

This mocking tone that mimics Oprah is meant for both parties, but primarily for Obama. I’ve mentioned before how I think his administration is turning into a Jimmy Carter symbol of vapidity. I’m pissed at Obama. He has been in office for more than six months, and has done approximately dick. There was an opening skit on this week’s Saturday Night Live that laid out, in a stark checklist, what he has accomplished. Needless to say, everything fell in the “No” column. As in, “Has this been done? NO.”

Beyond my anger at the effectively lame-duck presidency of Obama, who still has three-plus years to make up for his administration’s lack of life thus far, I’m glad Chicago lost the Olympics because I live in Chicago. As a resident of this great city that thankfully slides under the radar, I could foresee the logistical nightmares that the Olympics, a truthfully dead franchise, would pose in five years. The already-slow and clogged traffic would rival that of my least favorite city (Boston, which I maintain is a non-city) during the debacle that was the Big Dig. It might be better now, but I have no idea and do not care enough to check.

Plus, the influx of more people like, I’m guessing, that female Cubs fan who cried would only stoke my anger. She had to be a Cubs fan, because she clearly needed some idiotic dubious thrill to make up for her reliably disappointment of a team. Ugh, the suburbanites would descend upon the city and marvel at ugly structures they know nothing about, and ignore the truly beautiful ones that comprise most of the skyline. Needless to say, the hybrid beauty of the Tribune Tower would not make an impression on their puny minds, which would undoubtedly be adorned with a visor above a bright Day-Glo orange “Chicago 2016” t-shirt, and, below that, a fluorescent fanny pack.

So, bullet dodged, Chicago. Let the decrepit and scarily dangerous Rio deal with that nonsense. We won’t watch, because no one watches the Olympics anymore anyway. Revel in the fact that we denizens can bask in the warm blanket of protective xenophobia.

Plug up your tears, because they piss me off, and enjoy the beauty of the lakeshore and the skyline. It’s ours, and we don’t need validation from anyone whose main form of exercise is stumbling through a shopping mall. It’s ironic to think of this when you consider the commitment and athleticism of Olympic athletes.

Stop crying, suck it up, and enjoy what our exquisite city is and has. We’re the best, and don’t need the validation of the limp IOC to know this.

R
--Before you condescendingly deign to assault my grammar, and my use of the non-word "ain't" in the title of this post, know that I'm aware. FYI--I'm quoting Bob Dylan's song "The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll," so step off...