True Story©... The Ozympics

 

    At the big-ass age of 45, I have been alive for 11 rounds of the summer Olympics. Two of the games have been held in the United States thus far, 1984 and 1996. I will not pretend to REMEMBER the ‘84 games, but had been about as attentive as one can be to the games since 1988 and on. I can say with absolute certainty that the last-week-concluded games seemed to gather the most interest and discussion of any in history.
It could be that NBC/Peacock had round-the-clock coverage of the games, it could be that America’s Uncle Snoop Dogg seemed to have devised a means of being EVERYWHERE in Paris at the same damned time, or it could be the effective building of storylines across sporting disciplines gathering our collective interests.

    LA is getting the games back in 2028 and will have big shoes to fill, given the can’t-look-away nature that the Paris games gave us. There is generally about a 2-full-weeks break between the regular Olympiad and the Paralympics which will be held in the same host city. Understanding that the NEXT host city is effectively “on the clock” as soon as the Olympic Torch is passed to them. They can make plans as to which events to/not to include, infrastructure things to make sure the games go off without a hitch and – perhaps the most important part – marketing their games to make sure they get their money back.

    Knowing that having a a “thing,” something to draw the people’s interest to the regular games and hopefully keep the flame alive for the time between the regular and Paralympics, I devised a plan…
I searched exhaustively for the names and contact information of the people in charge of planning and setting up the Olympic/Paralympic games, and I sent them a message explaining my idea. I told of the fact that Snoop Dogg was their lightning in a bottle, the fact that he had as much fun as he had in Paris would likely be magnified by him being able to do it again in 2028 while sleeping in his own bed at night. Further, though, I explained that keeping interest up in the in-between weeks might help the Paralympics’ spectatorship and may add some extra eyes to boot. I left them with my contact information and a high-level overview of what I proposed and left it for them to contact me about it.

    It stands to reason that there was some intrigue garnered by my pitch because damned if my phone didn’t ring…

[name obscured to protect the innocent]

Me: “Hello?”

Caller: “Yes, is this Phillip?”

Me: “This me… Who dis?”

Caller: “My name is [redacted] and I am the assistant to [also redacted] from the 2028 Olympic organizing committee.”

Me: “So I gather your boss was intrigued by my idea?”

Caller: “Correct, and I was assigned to call you and get further details about–…”

Me: “… THE OZYMPICS!”

Caller: “What?”

Me: “Think about it… The games are gon’ be in LA, home of the rich and famous, fake-everything-assed stars.”

Caller: “Mmhmm…”

Me: “It’s a city overrun with heavily-moneyed people who daily indulge in decadent living, and–…”

Caller: “… what does this have to do with the games?”

Me: “A lot of them, some right out front and some very credibly alleged, have needed to turn to outside means to maintain themselves physically as a result of said decadence.”

Caller: “Ozempic, okay?”

Me: “And a uniquely La La-Land thing to do might be best directed at that middle week or two between the Olympics and Paralympic games.”

Caller: “How?”

Me: “I told you already, The Ozympics!”

Caller: “Expound…”

Me: “A third – well, second chronologically – games… In this one, we will have similar events to the other existing two but the contestants will be all celebrities who have recently shed a lot of weight following a battery of that ‘Zempie’.”

Caller: “‘Zempie’?”

Me: “Zempie… Ozwald… Ozempic!”

Caller: “Oh, I get it, Zempie!”

Me: “Right, and here is the fun part… Everyone will be ASSIGNED an event.”

Caller: “What!?”

Me: “Right! No one gets to CHOOSE what event they compete in, they will sign up for the games and will be dictated what event they’re getting.”

Caller: “Wow.”

Me: “We could have Oprah on shotput, Amy Schumer on hurdles, Sharon Osborne swimming; the Kardashians on basketball.”

Caller: “Do the Kardashians even KNOW how to play basketball?”

Me: “Sir… At this point, them girls have dated damn near a third of the NBA… They had a chance to learn by osmosis and if they didn’t that’s on them.”

Caller: “HA!!!”

Me: “So yeah… The idea here is to keep the flames hot for the time between the respective games and what better way to do that than with some good ol’ Los Angeles reality TV?”

Caller: “I hear you, but selling this up the chain of command is going to be a TALL task.”

Me: “Have you been taking notes or recording this conversation?”

Caller: “Yes, both.”

Me: “Then you have my permission to take this audio straight to your superiors, kind of as a means of letting ME sell it for you.”

Caller: “Wild as this may sound, I think I am gonna take you up on that.”

Me: “Cool, and you have my contact information still… Email or phone call will suffice.”

Caller: “Yes, thanks. We’ll be in touch one way or the other.”

    Our call ended and I felt, well, vaguely positive about the prospects of being taken up on the idea I had presented them. I mean, the games ended on Sunday, I messaged them Sunday evening and they were on my phone on Tuesday afternoon so clearly there was some interest in hearing me out right?
RIGHT?!!?

    Wednesday afternoon, I received an email from the planning committee in general. Not from any individual, not identified as being from the person I had spoken to; just from “the committee”…

"Philip [sic],

    While we are thrilled that you share our interest in promoting and successfully putting on the 2028 games, we are CONCERNED with the thought process behind the ideas you have presented to our committee and hereby request that you make this email the last contact between us. Further, we strongly suggest you seek professional help of a clinical psychologist, pastor or some other mental health professionals. At the very least, consider pitching these ideas to someone’s television production as your imagination is quite vivid.

Thank you for your time and good luck in your future endeavors."

Okay, two things…
1) these motherfuckers ain’t e’em spell my name right and 2) did they just “what the fuck is wrong with you” me?

    One thing I CAN and likely will take from their response is that I am also now on the clock and have four years to shop this bug-fuck idea to TV production houses as perhaps a current events/pop culture comedic presentation to be shown around Olympic 2028 time.