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The Olympics Aren't Over!

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It's time for the Gay Games!

And you thought Barking Carnival's coverage of gay athletes would end with Graham Harrell's graduation?

So, the Gay Games.

The first question is...why? Why does every group need their own games?

The Special Olympics make sense to me. They draw attention to a worthy cause, encourage giving, build self-esteem in the athletes, and reward their families with an enriching experience. That aside, I feel like I could go there and dominate. Is that bragging? Yes. I don't apologize for wearing the confident musk of physical dominance. And the ladies like it just fine.

The Paralympics also make sense to me. The athletes competing have physical disabilities, they're on equal footing - or absence of footing - and within that context they're fierce competitors. If you've ever seen Murderball, these guys and gals kick ass and take names. I could not dominate these games. Neither could you.

I played wheelchair basketball once and I "ran" the court like George Mikan on rollerskates. After five fast breaks, my forearms were burning with lactic acid, my hands were blistered, and I realized that even the most assiduous masturbation regimen is in no way sufficient preparation for this taxing punishment. Wheelchair athletes are conditioned like gibbons and they can open a jelly preserve jar using only their pinky and an index finger. I distinctly remember shooting at least two airballs and my plus-minus was around -17. I faked a non-specific injury just to quit and lay on some gym mats.

Yeah, I know what you're thinking, I rolled into their world. What about ours?

Well, my brother used to do Brazilian jiu-jitsu with a guy that was legally blind. My brother was pretty good. But this blind guy was a 250 pound Purple Belt that methodically submitted everyone in the gym like they were a braille term paper. I can only hope that bro avenged himself by hiding the dude's gym bag occasionally. Bottom line: the handicapped have thoroughly dominated my family. Heather Mills would have probably beaten out my sister for drill team captain.

I'd support a Mental Illness Olympics. You only need one schizophrenic to do pair's figure skating and the 4X100 meter Depression Amble could be canceled for ennui.

The Gay Olympics are senseless though. Why the schisming? Gay athletes dominate a number of universal Olympic sports, male and female. Figure skaters, softball players, track athletes, even some of the gymnasts once they're allowed to hit puberty. There is no heterosexual oppression preventing participation. The Gay Games aren't sexuality's Negro Leagues. They have no barriers to entry (oh, no he didn't). Some of the greatest athletes in Olympic history MAY BE GAY. I AM NOT SURE.

Further, the Gaylympics aren't very elite competition. The records are unimpressive. In the 18-29 age category, Brian Fell won the last Gay Games with a 10.97 100 meters. That's a solid high school time, but that's not going to win any meets in your local district. I checked out the powerlifting and wrestling medalists and found that Brian Fell didn't compete. If he had medaled there as well, Brian Fell would be a homophobe's worst nightmare.

So what's this about? It's not like the ancient Olympics where men competed naked doused in olive oil and spent their evenings creating philosophy and buggering.

I think it's all a big hook-up. A party. The only thing missing is foam, picky doormen, and MDMA. It's a chance to hang out with other impeccably groomed men with faux hawks, sculpted bodies, and an extraordinary ability to accessorize. Or, conversely, to seek out other athletic women that love flannel, sensible haircuts, and kd lang albums. Think of the common ground struck in the Gaylympic Village: "What? No way! I love the Indigo Girls, incoherent feminist literature, and epee too! What are the odds?"

I'm uncertain as to why the Gay Games are in Cologne, Germany. When I think of great gay meccas, I think of San Francisco, West Hollywood, Sydney, London, Berlin, any gym in downtown Austin, A&M Yell Leader initiation, logging camps in the Yukon, and, well, the actual Mecca. I don't know anything about Cologne except that it's going to smell a lot like Axe body spray this July.

Well, I guess you gays do your thing. We'll do ours.