These were my 13th Olympics, which might be a record for a writer still in his 40s, a span that started as a post-collegiate punk in Los Angeles and spun dizzily through the exotica of Seoul and Barcelona, the small-village chill of Albertville and Lillehammer and the distant wonders of Sydney and Athens. - Stay in China

Stop the press.

Jay Mariotti almost wrote a decent column*. And then old instincts too hard to resist mandate such an unnecessary moment of self congratulatory indulgence.

Michael Phelps is to 8 Olympic Gold Medals as Jay Mariotti is to attending 13 Olympics?

Sorry, no dice.

For those hellbent on stubbornly insisting to the bitter end that the Beijing Olympics were about sports and not an oppressive communist central government’s self anointment of being this planet’s true superpower, face reality please. Jay seems content that the United States has Michael Phelps. Big deal. China is in firm control of the future of our very own country via its rampant eagerness to collect American national debt. $43 billion sunk into a lavish two week extravaganza where any cynicism faced consequential imprisonment, was a mere drop in the bucket.

The disciples of a linguistic trainer for alternative primate companions couldn’t be happier with the outcome. Team USA may have won the most combined medals, but it was China that collected the most gold and above all the else, made it absolutely crystal clear to those not suffering from myopic false pretenses of western superiority, that it is front and center on governing the future direction of this planet.

Quite accurately, Jay Mariotti questions such a future. Once in a red moon, the dwarf does capably address the obvious. And despite nearly wasting his two week existence in Beijing, partial credit must be acknowledged for at least critically mentioning the messy Joey Cheeks visa fiasco, the ludicrous Chinese gymnastics kiddie corps scandal along with the peril of the general free world opting to continuing to purchase cheaper manufactured products labeled “Made In China” at the detriment of domestic enterprise.

Yet Jay too often opted the soft ball approach to these games. And no, he was not the only journalist to seemingly elect to write about endless Michael Phelps opuses at the expense of actual coverage of an even larger issue at stake.

Where does the world go from here?

Despite the global criticism and general denouncement of its human rights records, Big Red China merely shrugged its shoulders and exercised its will with the ho hum eagerness of a nation fully aware that it could do as it pleased whenever it pleased.

And the world voluntarily accepted with remarkably little resistance.

China doesn’t want any mentioning of Tibet.

No problem, says the world.

China doesn’t want any second guessing of its undeserving gold medal winning gymnastics squad.

No problem, says the investigating IOC.

China doesn’t want any comments on Beijing’s pollution issue.

No problem, says the ultimate sock puppet sellout, Jacques Rogge. What smog? That is mist!

Why question the methods of the devil when complying obedience is rewarded so handsomely?  After all, Jay did marvel at his accommodations and penis laden cuisine.

Oppression won out.

Hitler could have only wished for such a similar result back in 1936.

Admittedly, I have watched very little of these Olympic Games, accounting for fewer front page posts authored by yours truly. However, while dutifully entertaining out of town guests for the weekend, it was paramount that the closing ceremony be watching in the Briggs living room.

I have no idea what the hell I witnessed watching last night on NBC prime time. Amidst the Mr. Garrison glow in the dark “It” machines, human crawling towers and fireworks choreographed to a beaming Jackie Chan lip synching performance, it was evident that the Chinese Government was content to overproduce the simple act of extinguishing a flame simply because it could.

The London Olympic Committee organizers must be already resigned to throw in the towel. Anything short of firing Queen Elizabeth out of a canon from the deck of British warship at sea to light the Olympic torch would be playing second fiddle to Beijing’s Siegfried & Roy Vegas Act interlaced with Fantasia II.

And for Chicago 2016?

I’d settle for a cigar chomping Mike Ditka riding on top of a firetruck circling Soldier Field and launching autographed footballs into the crowd.  Special kudos to the local radio sports guys for envisioning such a hysterical opening ceremony.

Rick Telander was right about the White Sox, Bears, Blackhawks, Bulls, Fire and Cubs always being number one in our local hearts but perhaps wrong not to attend the Olympic Games and call a spade a spade. God knows objectivity of this farce from a true journalist was badly needed. 

Nothing beats home.

U-S-A. U-S-A. U-S-A.

Forever.