Abstract
Using a blend of historio-contemporary dialogues of my own devising and interpretation, a close reading of a visual event, postcolonial theory & cultural studies, I will: demonstrate my robust yet still somehow vapid multiculturalism while employing a tempest of pedantic and exhausting jargon-filled run-on sentences to obfuscate even the simplest of my points (because an over-long parenthetical aside that uses ad hoc foreign language colloquialisms does more than suggest I'm supremely well educated, it means you too have to be supremely well educated in order to understand, respond to, or even contend with me. And because sometimes I may appear to leave a sentence or thought unfinished); I will then suggest that Danny Boyle is a hack, an over-hyped, over-diverse director of international superhits who decided, not to challenge China, but to reinvigorate the questionably loved tradition of producing a crappy opening ceremony. I won't suggest I could've done a better job, but the pomp implicit in my language will. Obviously.
I will then end my article with a clichéd, remembered image of Bill Clinton at the '96 Atlanta Games, precisely because I remembered it and nobody else did.
Suck it.