Don’t Bogart That Medal

This is Nick Delpopolo, American judoka, Olympic athlete, and bong smoking fool. Nick got booted from the Olympics for testing positive for marijuana. Yes, Tonya Harding can hire someone to go after your knees with a fucking tire iron, and she gets to compete. But get a little nutty with the reefer, and you, sir, are worse than Hitler. This makes no sense. Unless Mr. Delpopolo was competing in an Olympic burrito eating event that I haven’t heard about, getting stoned does nothing to enhance your performance. If it did, I would have won every single gold medal in every single event from 1988 through 1992. And I wouldn’t have been blowing bongs on the sly like Michael Phelps (who is allowed to get high, apparently), I would have done them on the fucking medal stand. “U! S! A! U! S! A! (inhale) … u… s… a… (cough cough)”

Who fucking cares if an Olympic athlete gets stoned? They’ve pretty much given up their childhood to chase a dream that very likely was planted in their head by a parent looking to vicariously recapture their youth through their kid doing cartwheels until they puke, and they want to relax with a joint? Fucking let them. It’s the least you can do. But since some professional bed-wetters have decided that marijuana use would tarnish the image of the precious Olympic Games, they’re going to screw over some random kid. Meanwhile, the Olympic Village contains a “drinking hall” that athletes can (and do) use to get falling down drunk, and they have distributed over 150,000 condoms to date at the 2012 Games. That’s enough condoms to ensure that every athlete gets laid fifteen times during the Olympics. Thousands of drunken sex-freaks sprinting around is ok. One athlete giggling at Monty Python and the Holy Grail in his room at night? Go get the official Olympic Tar & Feathering gear, we’ve got us a fucking hippie pot-head on our hands, Earl! Yee-haw!

We shouldn’t be banning the pot smokers from the Olympics, we should be rewarding them. They take difficulty into account when scoring, don’t they? Well then do it fucking right.

Diving Announcer #1: Coming up next is American diver Johnny Hash. He is going to do a quadruple flip with six twists. This is a difficult dive.

Diving Announcer #2: A dive made all the more difficult by the huge bong rips Johnny did just twenty minutes ago. That is some primo fucking skunk weed, and it is bound to make this dive score very well with the judges if he can somehow pull it off.

Diving Announcer #1: I’m pretty skeptical that he’ll be able to pull it off, though. We saw the Chinese diver Mei Puf Mo drown in the wading pool before his dive on this very same pot.

Diving Announcer #2: And now Hash has stopped climbing the ladder to the high dive platform. He seems to be staring off into the distance while his coach tries to remind him where he’s at.

Diving Announcer #1: They are playing Pink Floyd on the PA system, and that has got to be distracting.

Diving Announcer #2: And now Hash has spotted the concession stand, and is coming down. That has got to be a big blow for the American dive team.

Diving Announcer #1: Yes, they may all be running over to the concession stand now, but when it dawns on them sometime this evening that they were here to compete for an Olympic medal, they are bound to be major league bummed.

This dive would have scored much higher had it not taken place in the parking lot, Bob.

And, honestly, wouldn’t that be more entertaining than 95% of the shit we see when watching the Olympics? “Oooh, she didn’t point her toe there. That’s a seven point deduction and her Olympic career is over.” That shit gets old, real fast. I say give everyone in the javelin event a bunch of acid and see what happens (I’m thinking ticket sales for this event would suffer, but what the fuck). Give everyone doing the 100 meter dash a big shot of heroin and see if anyone can crack one minute. And gymnastics would be way more fun with a drug that fucks with your balance, like ether. “Gabby Douglas has been spinning on the bar for fifteen minutes now! She’s too scared to let go!”

I once had a friend pick me up in a car with bald tires on his way to the liquor store during the middle of a snow storm that had already dropped six inches of snow. We went to the liquor store and back to his house, and never once was the front end of his car pointing the direction in which we were traveling. When we finally got to his house, he announced, “Hot damn, that ride was fucking awesome! I didn’t tell you this, but I’m on a lot of mushrooms right now.” Now imagine that scene with a bobsled run involved.

But when NBC has paid $73 trillion dollars to win the right to cram fake, bullshit Olympic narratives that didn’t happen down your throat, marijuana use quite frankly doesn’t work with the wholesome image they’d like the games to project. There is serious money invested, and serious money means serious business, and no fun and games allowed. So they’ll gloss over Michael Phelps’ drug use and proclaim him the Greatest Olympian of All Time, while some poor mook from New Jersey who came in seventh place gets the fucking bum’s rush. He should drop kick Bob Costas in the nuts.

He’d probably like it. He’s kinky like that.