The Olympics, But Make It Southern
I’m going to express an unpopular opinion: I don’t like watching the Olympics. Whew, I said it. There were times when I enjoyed watching figure skating, but it has been since the days of yore when Hardings were clubbing Kerrigan’s knees or ice princesses like Oksana Baiul (who is probably on a bedazzled walker by now) ruled the rink. I want to be patriotic and enjoy these historic games that have existed for centuries…and then I turn on my television and witness events like snowboarding, something called skeleton racing, and curling. It feels, in a word: odd.
I have tried in years past to stifle these feelings and remain silent, but these games, and the sheer longevity of all the sledding and Nordic skiing and luge-related activity is really starting to wear on me. I can’t wait for this week to be over and for the Olympics to finally end. Never mind that Days of Our Lives has been on hiatus—Days is not a great show to begin with, I freely admit, and so I am willing and able to find substitute lunchtime entertainment if and when the need arises, but these Olympic snow games are also messing with my Dateline episodes, and frankly, you just don’t come between a girl and her Dateline. You take away Keith Morrison and replace it with ice hockey and expect me to be satisfied? I know these are the winter Olympics, but man, that is cold.
Wouldn’t the Olympics be more interesting if we could channel the Redneck Games and include events which are more fun to watch? What’s that? You are not familiar with the Redneck Games? Well, since my regularly scheduled programming has been preempted by ski jumping (snore), let me take a minute to fill you in. You see, dear friend, the Redneck Games originated back in 1996 (another Olympic year) down in East Dublin, Georgia. The organizers thought a small crowd might gather for the first event and instead, about 5,000 people showed up. Over the years, attendance swelled to crowds of around 95,000 at this one-day sporting extravaganza. Unbelievably, these games are no longer held (since 2013), but they were an annual summer event and, from what I can ascertain, a true sight to behold.
The games were kicked off by a torch-bearing local gent who went by the nickname L-Bow (proving once again that truth really is better than fiction), who led the parade of “athletes” by carrying a propane torch made from cans of Budweiser beer. Once it’s time for these auspicious games to begin, how could one not be enthralled by events such as cigarette flipping, bobbing for pig’s feet, toilet seat throwing, hubcap hurling, mud pit belly flopping, and dumpster diving? Why, there was even a big hair contest! And, lest I fail to due my reporting duty, the Redneck Games also featured an annual armpit serenade contest, where contestants play their best tunes. I read that in 1998, one contestant serenaded the crowd with the entire theme song from the television show Green Acres. If that doesn’t say gold medal worthy performance, I can’t imagine what does. Except this is the Redneck Games, and so each event winner received a plaque with a real crushed, empty beer can. Ah, moments of glory. THAT I would tune in to watch.
Ladies and gentlemen, your torch-bearer and master of ceremonies, L. Bow.
This is my Olympic bargain I am willing to strike: if I can’t have Keith Morrison, give me L. Bow. If you must take away my soap opera, please replace it not with bobsledding, but with mud pit belly flops. I suppose it’s the result of growing up in a place where the annual snowfall averages a whopping one inch and where our homemade version of snow boots meant putting Ziploc baggies on over your socks to keep them dry while playing in the winter weather. If you’re going to get me interested in the Olympics, I’ll need you to do what makes almost everything better: make it Southern. For the sake of entertainment and desperately needed good fun, I think it’s time we bring back some form of the Redneck Games. And if those big hair contest competitors need any tips, you know where to find me.
