Ben Peek (benpeek) wrote,
Ben Peek
benpeek

It's a Hate Thing.

i hate ian thorpe.

i feel good just saying those four words. i hate ian thorpe. it could be a mantra for me when i get older, and am in need of way to find my calm and gooey centre. i hate ian thorpe. the only thing i hate more than ian thorpe himself, is the nickname that is splashed across signs when he appears: 'thorpedo'. a little seed of hate has found its way into the organs of my emotions and fastened themselves onto me that the very mention of the word thorpedo will result in a nasty patch of bile exploding from my mouth. my only joy when that word appears is in making cheap jokes about how the name reveals his fascination with little boys and girls (pedo) and how he likes to dress up around them (thor). it's really quite surprising how many variations on the topic of being a child fucker that i can come up with.

(yes, this is one of those entries in which offensive things are said. somewhere i did a rating of this journal, and it came up NC 17, and this is one of those moments.)

there are readers of this livejournal that are outside australia, and its entirely possible that they've never heard of ian thorpe.

i envy you.

thorpe is, basically, a twenty one year old swimmer... except, obviously, when i say that he's a swimmer, i'm leaving out his fame, fortune, and designer underwear. i do this because swimming is not a skill that lends itself to my interest and swimming quicker than anyone else does not gain my admiration, but mostly i do this because i hate ian thorpe and want to belittle him whenever i get the chance. this shouldn't be surprising, since i am prone to telling little children that they should beware of grown men who say they have a 'thorpedo' for them.

there are people who say, 'oh, ben, how can you hate thorpedo, he's just great--look at how he won all those races!' because they believe (for some unknown reason) that this simple sentence will somehow convince me of thorpe's greatness. it won't. unless thorpe reaches behind his head and rips off his face al la scooby doo to reveal an entirely different person, this will not change. likely, it won't change then, either. i'm that kind of person.

thorpe's public persona is one of those milk and cookies, mum and pa loveable home country boy types. i hate that for simply being that, but i hate it even more when thorpe appear on tv shows to save 'poor, ordinary australians' from whatever middle class hell they've fallen into. that show, btw, was some sort of charlie's rip off show, where thorpe had three good looking girls that went out and did good deeds for people. i never watched it. i'm sure it was shit--how am i sure? well, it was thorpe and three good looking girls going out to help the poor and needy. i think that says more than enough about its shitness. it was mega shit. it was a big fucking waste of time and giant public relations thing for thorpe... but anyhow, i often wondered, when i saw a commercial for the show, if thorpe would give the poor and needy his designer underwear (starting at $40, give or take) or if he'd chuck them a bit of the millions he had from doing nike commercials or modeling or having his hair highlighted in a subtle, but ultimately fashionable way.

probably not. milk and cookies will go only so far, after all.

and yes, i hate him for all these things. i hate him for these things because this is what the world gave him for swimming fast.

swimming fast. what the fuck is that, anyway? is anyone beyond me thinking it's kind of insane that you could make millions of dollars and become a household name because you swam fast? come on: a serial killer gives you more than this. swimming. what a load of fucking idiocy.

'oh, it's so good, you swam faster than anyone else, ian. without you, society would crumble! thorpedo! THORPEDO! without you, we would never have the chance to watch someone swim for a minute! have millions of dollars! fuck helping the needy! put your face everywhere! would you like a child? here, you can have mine!'

so, like i said, it's a hate thing.

imagine then, my joy, when ian thorpe was disqualified from racing in the 400m race in the olympics. imagine the smile that lit me up like xmas when people bitched and moaned and said it wasn't fair. imagine the dark little chuckle i gave when they showed images of thorpe upset. oh, sure, he'll still compete in every other race he's in, but still, the joy was there.

it's the joy that matters.
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