I was lured back to the detested Box by the announcement that many rock bands will play and the fact that Croatia won today a gold medal in waterpolo and the bronze in handball. So it looked somehow sentimentally justifiable yet meaningful to watch the closing of 2012 Olympic games. As I don’t own a TV for many years I went over to my parents’ house. When the screen started radiating I first felt discomfort by what I saw: the messy beginning of the show crammed with petty theatrical references to everyday life and tacky scenography of London. I quickly got over it and concluded that whatever is being made for TV must be silly, shitty or worse. But it did get worse quickly. The whole loud proceeding was increasingly boring in its monotonous emphasis of every element,  syrupy and kitschy. This nauseating spectacle would make every politician grateful to the IOC for staging such a numbing spectacle every four years to distract the voters from waking up. It looked as it was designed by the Jubilee regalia entrepreneurs committee, a teapot adorned with the flags all over it and the royal faces stamped underneath. Done by a Take That choreographer its made to turn us all into the fans of the worst.

The entire boring marathon (sic) of the Closing of the Games of the XXX Olympiad reminded me of a galaxy far far away, many light years ago. That hot summer day in Dubrovnik, wey before it’s sunset even started, I couldn’t get the reason I was so underwhelmed by the whole empty rock shenanigan in spite of the number of the great artist participating at the Band Aid concert. It was probably the first time I was disapointed with what a rock event meant and what did I feel. I never forgot this feeling of subliminal certainty that rock and roll and its culture is not at all what it used to be. Tonight, I got the answer as to why, as this televised drainage of sense unfolded sliding into the drain on the same humiliating principle that killed the meaning of culture. When the artistic expression becomes a branded mannerism and it’s social context is reduced to a choreographed cramps – sentiment of importance is gone. While it might not be gone forever, it’s death tonight got a North Korean stadium funeral and I went sick to bed. Good night and good luck.

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