WHY THE WINTER OLYMPICS SUCK

Watching sports on TV makes me antsy. Instead of enjoying it, I'm feeling guilty that I'm not participating. As a world-class time-waster, however, the Olympics are in a class by themselves. At least professional sports wear their crash commercialism on their sleeves. The Olympics gussy themselves up in the mantle of international brotherhood and sportsmanship.

What it's really about, of course, is delivering eyeballs to the tube. The fact that the Winter Olympics take place during a Sweeps month and deliver the ever-elusive holy grail of demographics, the young male, only make them sweeter for the network. Anyone with any sense has long ago given up on the International Olympic Committee as anything more than pigs at the trough-a gaggle of thieves to make Congress look like the Maryknoll Sisters. The only "scandal" of the Salt Lake City briberython was the shocked, shocked expressions of horror emanating from the IOC and conniving sports columnists.

That goes double for the last Winter Olympics scandal, the ice-skating judging. This "sport" is impossible to rate objectively. You might as well sit in the audience at a City Ballet recital as the jettes and pirouettes fly by holding up cards reading "6.8" and "7.6."

At least we don't have to endure the fiction that these are amateurs competing for the thrill of victory alone. But for anyone who still harbors naïve illusions about the spirit of international cooperation, I recommend you see the film "Munich" or revisit the boycott during the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan. And if this is supposed to transcend national chauvenism, why not quit playing the national anthem of the gold-medal winner? (Not to mention those "USA! USA!" chants.)

Not that the Winter Olympics reflect the wider world, which is a majority people of color. Let's face it: Ethiopians may make great marathoners, but they don't do well in curling. A Jamaican bobsled team was so hilarious it became the punch-line of a Hollywood movie. The Winter Olymics are a festival of whiteness-on the ground and on the winners' platform.

But it's when the Olympics try for relevance that they turn the corner into imbecility. Seeing the addition of xtreme sports in a frantic attempt to hold onto that elusive young male viewer is like your uncle Jakie in Ft. Lauderdale wearing a backward baseball cap and showing ass crack through his Sean Johns.

And those time trials. I would compare these to watching paint dry, but that's probably unfair to paint. Somebody goes up a hill. Somebody goes down a hill. Fine. I love to ski (if and when I can ever afford the time and money), but really: Do you want to watch someone else doing it?

Like all sports, these games feature skills that at one time were part of warfare. Except, perhaps, for the ineffable art of curling, which is one event where we can always count on our ever-scintillating friendly neighbors to the north winning, since there is no other nation that even knows about this "sport."

Then there's the whole steroid debacle. Granted, this is probably (slightly) less relevant in the winter, but the games played by the IOC and the doping committees go way beyond the merely cynical. Everyone knows that any athlete with half a brain and a good doctor can easily stay two steps ahead of the urine analyzers. This makes me angry, because everyone likes to get on his high horse about juice, when they know that it exists, it's used and it's used by winners.

So watch those time trials. Curl up with some Cheese Puffs and curling. Thrill to spoiled suburbanits twirling in more sequins than a Liza Minelli drag queen contest. At least it's good practice. For being dead.