Bloggers have started to weigh in on the London 2012 Olympic Mascots Wenlock and Mandeville. The duo were shown yesterday for the first time to rehearsed cheers and then complete bewilderment as the world press collectively wondered if the organizers of the 2012 games had lost their minds in a moment of shared panic attack.
Wenlock and Mandeville are cyclopean amorphous shape-changing . . . uh . . . things that are supposed to represent the digital age. Ostensibly created by the advertising firm Iris and equipped with an origin story that has them seeping from steel sludge, they look much more like a collaboration between Joan Miró (back from the dead and loving it) and Adult Swim. The media is shooting furiously at them as ugly and totally nonsensical. This Yahoo! promoted blogger is typical.
Me, I like the two one-bug-eye-a-piece beasts. Because they are utterly weird, they play almost like parodies of the Olympics. They will make all the athletes fear an alien invasion from Ultraman villains. This is a far healthier fear than fear of domestic and/or foreign terrorists. They also will encourage the legalization of narcotics, so they will strike a blow against the horrid drug wars ripping apart Third World countries, who rarely win medals. I appreciate this complete aversion to logic, sense, or an appeal to any demographic aside from infants who have barely developed shape recognition. That’s the true Olympic Spirit.
As you might be able to tell, I have no use for the Olympics. Aside from having zero interest in sports, I find the whole affair depressingly politicized, filled with jingoistic jockeying, doping, and petty scandals, all of it painted with a univeralism brush that smacks of hypocrisy. The Paralympics that follow after the Olympics are much more triumphant to me—but you hardly hear about those except in excellent documentaries like Murderball.
If the London Olympic organizers want to hand their games over to surreal alien invaders, pretending that they want to “engage and reconnect young people to sport” (an actual illogical quote from organizing committee chairman Sebastian Coe) they will find support from me. Whatever good my support will do. Just know that I’m one blogger who has no complaints about this lunacy.
Imagine the head of the IOC standing before these Joan Miró monstrosities at the Opening Ceremonies, calling for all countries to follow “The Olympic Truce.” What else are people to think except that the aliens have already replaced him with one of their drones to prepare the Earth for their invasion to harvest human pancreases to fuel their time-distortion devices? Or that the chairman has always been one of them, using the Olympics to steadily weaken our belief in the importance of athletic acheivement so the creatures from the Third Planet of the Black Hole can at last crush us under their formless feet?
You don’t think I’m serious? Then take a gander at the aliens in Message from Space, an early Japanese SF film:
The prosecution rests, your honor.
If the London Olympics wants to embrace a 1960s Japanese Alien Invasion theme for their Summer Games and make The Mysterians their official documentary, I’m so behind that. I can’t wait for the Closing Ceremonies, when Wenlock and Mandeville suddenly engorge to their full height of fifty meters, and some unheralded bronze medalist in fencing from Japan raises up his sword and turns into Ultraman to beat down these creatures, rubber suit-to-rubber suit, smashing apart all of central London (or a model of one) in the process. That would finally be a Closing Ceremonies worth watching.