Opening ceremonies of the Olympics

I love the Olympics -- not only the actual competition in the events themselves, but the passion, patriotism, and pageantry from all over the world that go along with the whole package. I could hardly wait until the flame was lit in London.

Yet the opening ceremonies of this particular Olympiad seemed to be straight out of the Twilight Zone. Some very strange things were on display.

Women suffragists marching with picket signs advocating their right to vote?

Galley slaves toiling away at their oars?

Blacksmiths standing over flaming forges?

A crew of guys pounding railroad spikes?

Red coats and tea-partiers from the Revolutionary War?  Pilgrims?

And what were all those guys in dark suits, long sideburns, and Abraham Lincoln top hats about anyway?

A couple of James Bond type dudes parachuting out of a helicopter?

Queen Lizzie the Deuce waddling front and center, while the Union Jack was hoisted and a throng of adoring little kids sang a song of praise to her?

Florence Nightingale style beds, complete with fake children patients and IV drips being wheeled around helter-skelter by nurses and orderlies? Did they even have IV drips back in FloNight's day?

JK Rowling quoting from one of her Harry Potter books? Wait, now her characters are coming to life. They're everywhere.

Peter Pan and Mary Poppins showed up.

Holy cow, it's a miracle. All those sick kids have jumped out of their beds and are dancing. Wow. Forget Obamacare, whatever they're doing over there in England seems to have amazing results.

Here comes an orchestra featuring a piano player that can only play one note -- over and over. The crowd goes wild. I knew the Brits liked their music, but this is ridiculous.

Speaking of which, we were treated to a brief guitar riff from Eric Clapton, snippets of The Who, The Beatles, and The Stones. They say Sir Paul McCartney is waiting in the wings. I can barely contain my excitement over what he might do.

This is quite an extravaganza. There's only one thing I don't understand.

I always thought the Olympics were supposed to be about sports. Silly me.

Still, the McCartney thing is a tough call. As certainly one of the most prolific song writers of the last half century, the man should be treated with the respect he is due. How then, to do the right thing when he takes the stage at the opening ceremonies? Hmm. I think I have it. What could be fairer than holding the man to the same words he penned himself long ago in a classic song?

Dear Paul. This is the Olympics -- not the Ed Sullivan show, the Hollywood Bowl, or even Abbey Road. Yesterday came suddenly indeed.

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