The Machine has already explained our disgust (here) with NBC and IOC for whoring out their “primetime” timeslots to their corporate pimps instead of protecting the glory of live sports. And all for what?! So far it’s been pretty hit or miss with the advertisements. The P&G “Best Job” spot makes us thrown up in our mouths every time; whereas the Cadillac ATS commercial with those two douchebags bombing around back roads the world over makes us want to, well, buy a Cadallic and be d-bags. We’ve gotten the usual McDonald’s and Coca-Cola non-sense (how many of these Olympians not named Michael Phelps are slamming Big Macs and 44 oz Cokes?!) And speaking of Phelps, Visa might want to do themselves a favor and pull those “lightning strikes twice” ads. Not going to happen. #TeamLochte! We’ve got to give props to Sears of all companies, (yeah, we didn’t know they were still in business either) for producing a funny ad with two beach frolickers that run into a fridge. Not bad. But the ad that takes down the ‘Gold’ is none other than Nike’s “Find Your Greatness”. Nike scores big without using any of their million-dollar spokesmen (how often does that happen?)! So much to love about this commercial though: the muslin women’s soccer team; the pogo stick front flip; the little dude at the end fighting with himself before he finally takes the plunge off the high dive platform. But the icing on the cake of this commercial is the Beastmode-esque stiff-arm at the 00:14 mark. Boom!
Category Archives: Olympics
Skeet Skeet Skeet Skeet!
That’s right. Kimberly Rhode, your 2012 Olympic Women’s Skeet shooting champion. K-Rhode hit a world record tying 99 out of 100 targets. The Machine doesn’t know much about the sport of skeet shooting (quite frankly, white chicks with guns scare us), but we do know how to skeet, thanks to Lil’ Jon. Seriously, they should, for one time, replace the playing of the anthem with some Get Low. “To all skeet skeet motherfuckers, to all skeet skeet god damn!”* Congrats Kimberly!
*For those not familiar with Lil’ Jon and skeeting, first, shame on you. Second, go listen to Get Low. Third, go to urbandictionary.com and look up “skeet”. Then, re-read this post.
Tape delayed, are you f’ing kidding me!?!
Ok, it’s taken the Machine all of 6 hours of Olympic coverage to be annoyed (although, the Spain/South Korea Women’s Handball Prelim was pretty sick). Seriously, the Machine’s all pumped to watch the Phelps/Lochte throwdownn tonight, but guess what, the Machine has an internet connection and that shit happened 5 hours ago! Yeah, we know who won. It’s not like the live event was at 4:00 am EST (note: the Machine generally has an east coast bias with sports, people, and life, so everything is measured by EST), the live event was at 2:30 pm!!! Show that shit live NBC! That’s what the Olympics are all about…getting to see your country’s heroes compete against the world as it unfolds. Instead, let’s be honest, the Olympics have never been about the honor of sports and competition, at least, not since that shit’s been on TV. Now, it’s all about the Benjamins baby. It’s more important to show the events people want to see in primetime, because primetime = higher ad revenues, which = more $$$ to NBC and the IOC. If the IOC had the balls, they would demand that ALL EVENTS BE SHOWN LIVE. Pretty simple rule, right? But no, what we’ll get live is air rifle, badminton, and cycling. The events we really want to see (Dream Team 2.0, Phelps/Lochte, 100m dash) will be shown tape-delayed, all so they can be in primetime and generate more dollars. On the flip side, we do get more couch time with Bob Costas, so I guess it’s not all bad…
Look, we get it. We understand capitalism and all its beauty. But there comes a point. And that point is ruining the sanctity of the Olympics (ok, that may be overreaching, the Machine just wants to see shit live). Now, all the important events will be ruined because the results will be streamed live on the internet, to your smartphones, and you know some asshole at the check out counter will say “hey Lochte beat Phelps in the 400m Individual Medley.” Thanks asshole.
Opening Ceremony = SNOOZE FEST!!!
Sorry Bob Costas, but try as you might, that opening ceremony was uninspiring, weird, and boring as shit, which pretty much sums up the Brits. Even though the Queen had a cameo role with James Bond, who is pretty badass (the Machine is fond of fictional Brits), her Royal Sourpuss never cracked a smile, and looked about as enthused as a colonoscopy patient. Sorry Queenie, you’re showcasing your country to the world, you’re supposed to put on a smile and show the global community the cultural depth of your society. Instead, we get an opening ceremony prominently featured with Mr. Bean. Seriously, Mr. Freaking Bean. We would’ve accepted Bennie Hill chasing around a sexy nurse in a golf cart. How about some Monty Python? A hologram Freddy Mercury? Hell, we’ll even take the Spice Girls. But no, we get a continuous dribble of dull, dry, and unexciting British pomp and circumstance (filthy wankers).
And don’t even get the Machine started with that lame-ass torch lighting (don’t worry Barcelona, your place in history as the Greatest. Torch Lighting Ceremony. Ever. is still firmly in tact). Clearly, the IOC didn’t bother to read any of the Machine’s letters with our numerous torch lighting suggestions. We’ll share two with you (the others have already been forwarded to Rio).
1. Iron Maiden. With Number of the Beast blaring, Bruce Dickenson walks into Olympic Stadium with his guitar on fire! The field opens up, and Eddie emerges!!! Bruce throws the guitar at Eddie, who bursts into flames, and boom, EDDIE’S THE TORCH, everyone in the world community are now huge Maiden fans, and all children under the age of 10 in are scared shitless.
2. Pippa. What better way to light the torch than with Pippa? (honestly, the Amy Winehouse crack pipe would’ve been a huge hit…but someone had to go and ruin that one). Anyway, picture this: Pippa goes all Katniss Everdeen, and waltzes into Olympic Stadium with her dress on fire! Pippa jumps into the ring of fire, sets the torch ablaze, rips off her clothes and proclaims her love for the Machine (ok, that last part may have been mixed up with a reoccuring dream of the Machine).
Point is: mix it up a little Britain. Trade in your tea and crumpets for a Vodka/Red Bull and let’s get the party started. And come on, we’re your friends America. We got your back. In fact, we’ll send over our finest ambassadors to make sure the party never ends (paging Charlie Sheen and Lindsay Lohan).