Saturday, 12 June 2010

FUSSBALL, FUSSBALL, UBER ALLES...

First, let me apologise for the paucity of updates. A combination of life circumstances and the death of my computer have made these events hard to come by. I make no promises for the future.

Now, on to my purpose.

Let me be abundantly clear first of all that I had already formed very strong opinions about the World Cup, mainly because of this. Indeed the world cup belongs to that special class of international sporting events, along with the olympics, that I especially love. Apart from the common theme in all major professional sports (that they are pointless corporate sponsored orgies of shit designed to do absolutely nothing but part people from money and take their minds off how shit their lives are), these events also have a consistent history of human rights abuses; Vancouver 2010 and Beijing 2008 made particular headlines, but people still watched them and spent money on their merchandise, which is why this shit is allowed to continue; these events are associated with human rights abuses simply because the hosting governments know they're going to get away with it, because people just want to see whatever treasured collection of overglorified playground games they want to watch.

The second reason for my detestation of these events is that they are facist. This is something I had thought before, that was cemented by attempting to watch a world cup game. Here's some leafs from my sketchbook to brighten the scene before we begin:

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I really can't be bothered to recap about the aesthetics of fascism. Susan Sontag's masterful essay about Leni Reifenstahl, 'Fascinating Fascism' is probably the best summation I know. Right. Let us consider world cup football. The will of the nation is subsumed into an elite force of chosen men, hand picked by remote economic and social elites. We are asked to support these elite men unconditionally, simplhy because we happen to be born on the same arbitrarily defined portion of the earth's surface as them. Many attach themselves to the group identity by the wearing of uniforms and symbols. The most fanatic even obscure their faces beneath the flag of the nation, destroying all individuality in an ecstatic communion with the mystical, mythical national essence. It all comes together in a great festival, where foreigners and domestic outsiders are shunned, and all come together to give up their individuality, their personal goals, for the greater good of the tiny, elite group of men in their matching uniforms. There is athletic triumphalism, the glory of the body is celebrated, the intellectual component of life is cast aside. People join together to sing special hymns to the glory of the nation and the elites, to celebrate myths of the triumph of our nations elites against the elites of other nations, and so on and so forth.

What I'm trying to say is

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Bread and circuses. If you're watching the world cup you're a fucking corporate tool who's supporting the direct and indirect oppression of thousands or millions of people so you can watch a load of fucking millionaires kick around a fucking ball. Fuck you.

(Addendum: This post is mostly a joke, but it contains an uncomfortable core of truth).

3 comments:

  1. You must be a real joy down the pub.

    > The most fanatic even obscure their faces beneath the flag of the nation, destroying all individuality in an ecstatic communion with the mystical, mythical national essence.

    or, 'face painting considered light-hearted fun'

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  2. Fuck me indeed. I like football you joyless twat. Deal with it.

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