The Olympics where sacred to Zeus Almighty and ran from about 800 B.C. To about A.D 500, with documentation of specific athletes and their achievements extant from 756 B.C. thru A.D. 383 when Prince Varzadates of Armenia won boxing.

I do not know why the modern version was invented, at least not why it was stated by it's sponsors. I have found, in all things to do with Modernity, that avoiding the stated reason for a large scale social initiative is key to understanding its essence.

I will hazard a guess that there were some good intentions proffered and that organizers saw themselves as civilizers and high culture influencers seeking to edify an increasingly rampant and senseless money-chasing society.

Let me pause for a moment and read on their inauguration:

I had the stomach for the first three paragraphs only.

Yes, it seems that this was the dream of a French aristocrat, which is to say a member of a nearly extinct elite, to preserve some spirit of European vigor in the face of industrialization, almost as a counterweight to the lineal march to Man's godhood marked by the World Fair. The choice of resurrecting a long ago slain, sacred, pagan tradition even as the new God of Science and His attendant ideologies pushed Christianity into crisis or compliance, is of note.

I loved the Olympics as a boy and yet marvel at some of the events and athletes. But since the Olympics ruined boxing in my lifetime by withhold point awards for power and effect and demanding that not only clinching but defending against the clinch is a foul, I have been suspicious. I am suspicious of an organization that tarnishes what I know best in sports. What else has it corrupted that I know naught about?

So, I avoid boxing and watch track and field, gymnastics and swimming.

I noted the extreme cuck muzzling of the athletes and attendants, that masks, even outside in the sun, were everywhere. Science as fakery abounds in the Tokyo Olympics. The best woman swimmer ever has to give an interview in a wet mask, her chest heaving from her 16-laps, and she expels water visibly through the mask. And still the meet-puppet world watches and believes that though visible mater can pass through a mask that matter so tiny as to be microscopic and invisible “May not pass!”

Superstition has never left the human herd.

The pack who rule us know this.

Obviously, in Maskland, the mask is a social muzzle, a funerary vestment for the corpses of a spiritually dead race, whose wearers worship thereby that which devours them on its audiovisual altar. [1]

Then the stud, Dressler, I think, a man who has a better vertical leap than dominant NBA players, who swims without breathing like a dolphin. Everything about this man is positive and positively American. He seems to be married.

This crackpot wondered, “Did the Japs make these people get vaϲϲinated? Did they commit the dysgenic crime of Tesla [2] by sterilizing these athletes?

More important things were afoot.

There was total inconsistency of mask wearing by the athletes, making it obvious that off-camera mask police were herding them about.

The human dolphin is victorious and takes to the podium and the camera is on him alone as he stands in his all white warm-up suit with his gold medal around his neck. The bronze and silver medal winners are not videoed as was traditional across my life.

Why?

I think it was an attempt to salvage some human emotion by the camera artists. For the beautiful man, who Aristotle might have held up as a paragon of discipline, was masked in a great white muzzle that left only his eyes visible—his only human aspect. The camera zeroed in to catch perhaps a tear before it immediately plunged below the mask—maybe a little welling.

This disgusting muzzling continued for exactly the length of the U.S. National Anthem. Then, as soon as the song which I will forever now dread to hear, stopped, he ripped the hated mask off, held up the medal with the other hand, and smiled at some unofficial camera for his mother, who was watching from a designated viewing center back in Florida.

There is no clearer proof that masking is nothing but a dominance ritual than the interview with the best woman swimmer in history, which could have served a grade school science class as clear proof that masks cannot stop viruses, and the clear and intimate muzzling of America's best man.

As an interesting footnote, Dressler later anchored a mixed men's-women's race in which the lead American woman's googles came down across her mouth and prevented her from breathing well enough to keep up.

That thing, that man-made society that the 1896 Olympics were instituted to preserve is certainly near death. But when something rotten dies, is it such a bad event?

America the Scoundrel, which dominates most Olympics, including the very first, demanded of its prime athletic representative a mask that almost erased his face, a white muzzle to match his white suit—the aesthetic that screams lack of distinction. I do not see in this any conspiracy, even though I am a conspiracy advocate, but see the instinct of the self-aware System to negate its slaves with an increasing hunger for domination—a hunger that grows apace with the very emptiness of the degraded human souls it dines upon.

…

Notes

-1. Leonardo's teacher Verocchio, made funerary masks for the wealthy dead.

-2. Tesla, smartest man of his age, who refused to marry and pass on his genes.