People are bitching about NBC’s failure to air the final portion of the Olympic closing ceremony that included Muse, Ray Davies, and The Who. Inadequate television programming is a legitimate concern, because it’s not like there’s an imminent economic collapse that will change the course of civilization to worry about. And it’s not like there’s some magical global system of interconnected computer networks – like a world wide web, or an internet – where people can upload and store content, such as videos of the final performances at the Olympics, that anyone with a connection can then watch at their leisure. So while we’re focused on what really matters, what about the fact that Queen – or what remains of Queen – performed at the closing ceremony of the largest sporting event in the world, held in their homeland of England, where they’re rightfully worshiped as gods, and not only didn’t close the ceremony, but were not booked to perform sports’ preeminent anthem – the Baha Men’s “Who Let The Dogs Out.” Wait, no. I mean their very own “We Are the Champions.”
Queen didn’t play “We Are the Champions” at the Olympics in London, England!
This warrants both the fuck and the italic effect.
Fucking Queen didn’t play “We Are the fucking Champions” at the fucking Olympics in London, fucking England!
What snaggletoothed Limey prat coordinated this monstrosity?
“Right. So we’ll get bloody fucking Brian May on stage. Up he’ll go, big hair and all, play a lick or two, that daft cunt Jessie J will already be up there, so I fancy she can just cover vocals on ‘We Will Rock You.’ Then, as 300 million twats watch their tellies thinking they’ll see the most brilliant fucking moment in the history of sports and music – Queen performing ‘We Are The Champions’ live at the London Olympics while 10,000 athletes cry joyfully and 80,000 fans sing along – we’ll get everyone’s knickers in a twist and just fucking move on. Not another note outta the bloke. Just ‘We Will Rock You’ and pull the fucking plug. Oh let the Twittering asses sod right off, bloody lot of cunts. We gave ‘em the Spice Girls – let ‘em toss off to those aged lassies and get fucked! Bloody Christ! We’re the English! It’s only so often we get to fuck the entire world anymore! Brilliant li’tle scheme, in’t it?”
Mel Gibson must edit William Wallace’s pre-Battle of Stirling smack talk in Braveheart to include this offense in his list of grievances for which the English must apologize:
“Here are Scotland’s terms. Lower your flags, and march straight back to England, stopping at every home to beg forgiveness for 100 years of theft, rape, and murder. And – far worse – for disallowing your finest band to play ‘We Are the Champions’ at your own Olympics. Do that, and your men shall live. Do it not, and every one of you will die today to the sound of ‘We Are the Champions’ playing on repeat from Hamish’s cell phone, which has a surprisingly loud speaker function… though… quite honestly, the bass on it is pure shite.”
But enough nonsense. Arguing musical opinion is silly, anyway. So let’s stick to facts:
Queen is the greatest band in the history of the art of sound in time.
They’re not even my favorite band, but that’s irrelevant to the fact that they are the best band ever. Oh, you disagree? Yeah, and Flo Rida is a brilliant wordsmith and Rascal Flatts craft songs for the enjoyment of straight men. And the Holocaust didn’t happen, either.
If I could take the catalog of only one artist/group to a desert island where, fingers crossed, I would never have another human interaction, Queen is my unconditional pick. Sure, KISS is my favorite band, but by the second verse of “Crazy Nights” I’d drown myself. Queen’s catalog covers every style, mood, and emotion a music fan needs, and I wouldn’t feel the least bit gay dancing nude, uninhibited, and awkwardly along the seashore to “Body Language.” And by “dancing” I mean hip-thrusting my penis into my hand in rhythm with the bass line, climaxing to the final ridiculous synth-gasm that follows the lyric “Baby you’re hot!” at the 3:42 mark.