Thanks for Nothing, Olympics

 One of these days, and I look forward to it, we're going to think about the fact that the torch relay began as Nazi propoganda.

Sure, we have a new line to the airport, and I bet it plays well in the Peoria that's in the tourists hearts,  but I can think of at least six NEW routes in the city we could have used, and more frequent service on the ones we do have.

But hey, who cares about the people who actually live here?

Other transit service has been cut to for the sake of the Canada Line. We should have called it the PPTL - the Peter to Paul transfer line. That leaves a lot of people still getting in their cars in this green wannabe city.

It seems every city endures a fiasco in order to host the halfpipe and men-only ski jumping, which is particularly galling in the snow-white games.

It's incredible how the leaders of host cities have a dip in intelligence when hypnotized by the trademarked rings - they're so precious. 

At a recent unveiling of paintings of the murdered women of the poverty-stricken downtown eastide, Mayor Gregor Robertson, in an obviously unprepared speech, spoke of how the fate of those women are part of Vancouver's cultural identity, as if violence and misogyny defines us.

It's not an identity, though. It's a point of extreme shame.

Let's acknowledge the Olympics for what they are: party for the privileged few.

Watching the International Olympic Committee twist  their shorts into a knot is entertainment enough. Sometimes it's  hard to remember that there are even sports involved.

Thanks for nothing, Olympics.

For a version of this of the author performing the text, accompanied by comedic improv piano, click here.