The Ongoing Struggle For Human Rights, Smugness

Boycott, boycott, boycott. Is there any word more stirring to the human spirit? If you are a big fan of boycotts, and I am, then the 2008 Beijing Olympics is like Christmas in September.

The best type of boycott is the kind where you don’t actually have to do anything. This typically involves boycotting a product or service that you wouldn’t normally patronize to begin with. Here’s an example. Remember when everyone was all up in arms about the tuna industry killing dolphins that would accidentally get caught in their fishing nets? Man, people love dolphins. Especially slutty girls, who like to get them tattooed on their lower backs.

As a life-long vegetarian, this was an ideal protest situation. I got to walk around loudly and publicly repining about the callous industrial destruction of everyone’s favorite aquatic mammal without having to change any aspect of my life. This left me with plenty of leisure time with which to feel superior to the plebian and unenlightened tuna sandwich set. See? Boycotting and feeling superior is fun. And easy.

Which brings us to China. China seems to be the international whipping boy as of late. Did you see all those protestors throwing bottles and plastic cups at that athlete carrying the Olympic torch through the streets of Paris? You know, that torch-bearer in the wheel chair? That was sort of fucked up.

I’d almost feel sorry for China if, well, China wasn’t China. It’s almost like they’re following the playbook of some outlandish cartoon villain. From the cultural genocide and oppression in Tibet to the arms dealing support of the ethnic cleansing in Sudan (where, incidentally, China has a substantial oil pipeline), the Chinese government is so amazingly and consistently nefarious and so very easy to disdain. Bring on the boycott!

Now, I don’t think that a boycott of the 2008 Summer Olympic Games themselves would be that productive. Plus, the thought of all those disappointed, tearful, teenaged, ribbon-twirling, female gymnasts is almost too much to bear. No, I intend to go for the deep pockets: the corporate sponsors.

This year’s roster, although impressive, shouldn’t pose too much of a problem and fits in nicely with my prior boycotting experience. McDonalds? Please. I’ve been smugly boycotting the golden arches for years. (Once again, vegetarian) Snickers? Am I a hungry ten year old? Johnson & Johnson? Their supposed “no tears formula” doesn’t even work.

The Volkswagen Corporation was brought to you in part by a grant from the Third Reich, so they are already on the “no buy” list. I just discovered Asic’s “Onitsuka Tiger” model, so the Adidas boycott doesn’t phase me. I don’t have any appliances made by General Electric. My refrigerator is made by Magic Chef. I don’t think that they will be sponsoring anything anytime soon. Do you even know anyone who has an Omega wrist-watch?

It gets trickier when we get to the Tsingtao brewery. Shit. What am I supposed to drink when I go to Chinese restaurants? That’s the only non-Japanese Asian beer that I know about. Not you too, UPS? I guess I’ll be seeing a lot of the U.S. Postal Service in the next few months. I do prefer the crisp, brown, utilitarian smartness of the UPS uniform. Coca Cola? I never really loved you to begin with.

Visa? Now you’re breaking my heart. Like most Americans, I like purchasing items but don’t actually have any money. My Amazon.com Visa card allows me to live in the middling luxury to which I’ve grown accustomed while at the same time horribly mortgaging my future. For every $25,000 I spend, I get a $25 gift certificate. For free! I can’t afford not to use it.

Fortunately, fate has interceded. In what turns out to be a twist of almost magical synchronicity, I recklessly maxed out my Visa card just a few days ago. Fuck you, Chinese government! Sure, I’ll have to pay Visa back at some point, but I have a feeling that it won’t be anytime near this year’s Olympics. Or really anytime in the year 2008. Good thing that I have a spare Mastercard lying around somewhere. Feeling smug about the 2008 Beijing Olympics: priceless.