Special XXIX Olympiad Edition: An Open Letter to China

Dear China:

Let’s face facts. Despite your preening, manipulation, and assurances to the contrary, you are in fact an oppressive Marxist regime. Some may choose to ignore the giant dump you’re taking on freedom (NBC and the IOC, I’m looking in your direction) and focus instead on marketing their products to your huge middle class. I assure you, China, I will not look the other way. I cannot be bought! (I can be bought…) Instead I intend to shine the patented Shawn Hannity “Bright Light of Freedom” on your shadowy underbelly and forever shame you and the 2008 Olympics you hold so dear. I now present my case:

Exhibit A: Your Creepy “Women’s” Gymnastics Team
I’m no dope. As a man who’s made it his life's work to spot the barely-legal set, I know an underage girl when I see one. And no fake passport is going to change my mind when you introduce your team of asexual fetuses to compete in the gymnastics all-around final. That is some messed up shit, China! Is winning a gold medal worth using a thirteen-year-old girl to cheat? I suppose with the problems you’ve had with your one-child policy I should count my blessings that you’re able to round up enough “women” to even field a team.

Exhibit B: Denying Joey Cheek a Visa
To be honest, I don’t care about Joey Cheek. He’s a winter Olympics athlete and I think we can all agree that the Winter Olympics are about as compelling as the WNBA Finals. But here’s the deal China, denying him a visa because he founded a charity supporting the people of Darfur only makes it appear as if you have something to hide. Oh wait, you do have something to hide! Your continued support of Sudan only enables the atrocities being committed there. Putting profit ahead of genocide is something bad countries do (see also the American Military Industrial Complex).

Exhibit C: Your 12-Hour Time Difference
What kind of godless country exists one entire day ahead of America? As I write this letter, it’s already tomorrow in China. You live in the future. Is this how you’ve gained your competitive edge? You see events before we do. How can we possibly compete?

Exhibit D: Your Ridiculous System of Government
Somehow you’ve managed to incorporate the worst parts of Capitalism and Communism and infuse them into one soul-crushing system of government that will ultimately be responsible for the end of life on planet earth. Okay, I may be overreaching, but my point stands. You have no problem with your citizens making money, but your giant, shuffling, bureaucratic government, the one who created a sanitized internet, can’t figure out a way to enact air quality standards. Instead, you resort to cloud seeding in the hopes that rain will wash away the smog and you can avoid the embarrassment of the Olympic marathon runners growing horns and prehensile tails around mile marker 16.

I could go on and on. These are just a few of the more egregious offenses you’ve committed in your brief moment in the sun. I’ve made it clear that all is not normal in your country. I’d appreciate it if you’d drop the act and go back to conducting yourself like you’re the subject of a George Orwell novel. That would be double-plus good in my book.

Sincerely,
A Concerned Citizen

Special Olympics Edition: An Open Letter to the Spanish Olympic Men's Basketball Team

"Okay, everyone say 'Tibet!'"

Well, now that I'm reading that title line, it dawns on me that we should probably specify: this is a special Olympics edition, not a Special Olympics edition. Although, judging by the apparent sociological acumen of the Spanish Olympic Men's Basketball squad, maybe the latter isn't too far off, either.

Really, guys? Really? We're bringing back the slanty-eyes thing for a team photo? Short of getting Mickey Rooney to reprise his role from Breakfast at Tiffany's, I'm not sure you could have presented a more small-minded view of Chinese culture, nor a poorer representation of your own. Why not up the ante? How about taking the photo in front of some railroad tracks or a dry cleaning establishment? That would have really put those little Orientals in their place! Fuck them and their rugs, right? Who's with me!

My buddies and I were going to line up for a similar "team" photo, paying homage to Spain's rich history, but there's no way to simply and convincingly make oneself resemble a thieving, pillaging rapist who stumbled upon the wrong continent and called it good. So it's back to the drawing board, I guess.

And while we're on the subject of stereotypes, way to put to rest the prevailing "myth" that Spanish men are a bunch of swarthy, ignorant jagoffs whose primary interests in life are paella and pussy. You sure showed us, Spain. We'll think twice before characterizing your men's basketball team as a gang of shoot-first-think-later flop artists who wouldn't know a pick and roll if Penelope Cruz had the play diagrammed on her naked body.

So, rather than clowning around in front of the camera and creating an international fiasco, Spain, why don't you go back to doing what you do best: offering rich Americans an exotic locale in which to eat and fornicate.

See? That just sounded racist and ignorant, didn't it? Now, imagine if I'd found a way to communicate those sentiments visually.

Ole'!

An Open Letter to Google

Dear Google:

First things first, I owe you a kind word. You’ve made my life so much easier. It’s hard to think of a time before you existed. What did I do in 1994 when I wanted to find the lyrics to Queen’s "Fat Bottomed Girls" or search for naked pictures of Helen Mirren? Go to library? But now all I need to do is type a phrase into your handy search bar and the world is at my fingertips. Thank you.

But Google, lately you worry me. It started with Google Earth. The idea that I could type my address into a computer program and instantly see a satellite image of my home was unnerving. Then you unveiled Google Street View. As I write, Google camera vans are traversing our streets in an effort to photograph the “street view” of every address in America. As if that wasn’t enough, now I learn that you’re memorizing every search term you receive. Google, it appears you’re trying to collect the sum total of mankind’s information. That’s something a Bond villain would do.

Remember the profound words of Spiderman’s uncle, Uncle Ben: “With great power, comes great responsibility.” You have the opportunity to provide a service to the world. The free exchange of information can break down barriers and borders, transcend race and class, and topple tyrants. But I suspect that’s not your aim. Google, I suspect your true goal is global rule.

Here’s how I foresee the course of future events. Sometime soon you’ll suddenly disappear from the Internet. Citizens around the world will panic when they’re no longer able to search Google Images for “celebrity nipple slip.” When society seems on the verge of collapse, you’ll appear on transmissions worldwide demanding the combined nations of earth pay you a 500 trillion dollar-per-year ransom for access to the information you’ve hoarded. After the world’s inevitable capitulation, you’ll root out dissent by spying on gmail messages and quickly make arrests because you’ll have clear driving directions. Am I close, Google?!

I fear there’s nothing I can do to thwart your evil plans. But please remember, when you’re deploying your five-stories-high-laser-death-ray to finally root out the last rebel stronghold hidden in the Caucuses, please recall my kind words in the first paragraph and mind your aim.

Sincerely,

A Concerned Citizen

An Open Letter to My Fellow Self-Check Users

For a brief moment, I was of the believe that the self-check line was the greatest technological advance to hit grocery stores since the debit card reader/pin pad. Those days are gone.

Like the pin pad, the self-check line has become yet another device that confounds the masses, leading to an even longer, more arduous payment process. That which was engineered specifically to expedite checkout has served only to stand as yet another obstacle to those of us self-sufficient enough to bag and pay for our own groceries. It could have been a utopian development; it stands as a disaster.

All is not lost. We can fix this. The keys to unlocking the magic and mystery of the self-check line lie below.

Rule #1: If You Can't Handle the Self-Check Line, Don't Use It
To the best of my knowledge, most, if not all, grocery chains continue to employ checkers (and baggers). If running an item's barcode over a reader and placing the item in a bag is a challenge for you, make use of these woefully underpaid individuals. Split your payment up into six different cards, a handful of coins, and a stack of coupons. Take all the time you need fishing around for exact change. Make small talk with the poor, haggard woman in the middle of a fourteen-hour day, who longs only for a bottle of Hood River vodka and death's sweet embrace. I'm sure she's dying to hear all about how your third-grader won his class spelling bee. You can do all of this and more simply by utilizing the conveniently located, run-by-actual-people checkstands near the entrance to the establishment. Check 'em out sometime.

Rule #2: Familiarize Yourself with Touchscreen Technology
See how the screen kind of looks like a keypad? And those colored icons resemble buttons? Have you ever wondered what might happen if you tried to "press" one? I'll clue you in: the odds of you being bludgeoned by me would decrease significantly.

Rule #3: Feel Free to Employ Common Courtesy
The self-check line is a microcosm of civilized society. At its best, it functions as a close-knit community of like-minded people working together towards a common goal. At worst, it is complete and utter chaos. We can avoid the worst-case scenario by simply being observant and considerate. Let's say two people are standing in line. (On line? It's immaterial.) One has a basketful of assorted goods, the other a pregnancy test. There is one self-check station open. By all reasonable rationale, the individual whose life hangs in the balance should be allowed immediate access to an expedited checkout process, right? And yet, I have seen this very situation unfold with the exact opposite outcome. The greedy, oblivious shopper neglected to exercise common courtesy, and pregnancy-test-holder was forced to endure an extra ten minutes of nerve-wracking torture, nearly suffering a coronary in the process. Perhaps this is indicative of a pervasive sense of apathy among Americans. Or perhaps the fuckhead with sixteen Hot Pockets ought to take a look around before he ambles up to the screen, just to stare blankly at it for the next five minutes. This is why people commit random acts of violence.

Rule #4: Do Not Talk to the Machine
I know that the self-check machine's animatronic voice asking you to "please place your item in the bag" seems human, but it is not. Screaming at it when you can't find the produce department does no one any good, and it makes you seem ill-prepared for today's fast-paced, technology-driven world. No matter how many times you shout, "WHERE ARE THE APPLES?!" the machine will not be able to answer your question. However, if you find yourself in line with me, and you reach a similar impasse, just turn to me and lean in very closely, then ask your question. I will smile politely. Then I will punch you square in your motherfucking face, you fucking idiot.

Rule #5: Move Swiftly
You know what's really fun about watching you complete your transaction and then stare at the screen, as if waiting for it to offer you financial advice or the secret to a rewarding sex life? Nothing. Not one thing. You scanned and bagged your groceries. You paid. Now please move along and let the rest of us reap the benefits of innovation and technology. We don't yet have flying cars or time-travel devices, so the self-check line is as close as most of us will get to the futuristic advances we were promised by the Back to the Future series. Gather your things and move along before I roll up my copy of US Weekly and start swatting you with it, you ill-mannered troglodyte.

Kisses.