In the main event of the Covid-19 sporting world, Hafthor Bjornsson is anything but half a god, as he completes a world record 1,104 deadlift.
As the anticipation of October glory is prematurely dashed for most MLB fans on the eve of Cinco de Mayo, the May sporting airwaves regularly exist as a people watching frenetic impossible four-way intersection in the hunt for television ratings, especially for those adverse to the languishing basketball season extending into the late Spring. With the azalea bloom of the Masters shriveling in retrospect to the pending lull of must see TV, the prospects for nightly entertainment from the sporting world are scarce to the point of awkwardness. At a point in which the yearly rituals of life reveal that parity has been banished to the most innovative and addictive virtual gaming consoles, and 18 out of the 30 teams are destined for prolonged mediocrity, the majority of sports fans are already mentally checked out and unofficially enduring voluntary frontal cortex lobotomies, all while planning the advanced stages of football season viewing. And this occurs in the typical uneventful auspices of avoiding the apocalypse, and another calendar year free from a human extinction event not associated with the findings of the Green movement.
With television ratings dumpster diving off the precarious vertical cleft reserved for squirrel suit extreme base jumpers, the meager selection of palatable viewing events on the sports network giants already at the desperation level of near closing time at the bar limited meat market status because of social distancing, include a motley band of comic book character refuse. With no NBA, MLB or PGA, the desolation of the sports landscape needs a few heroes, or at least a gamer or two. The unexcused truancy of the NHL, NASCAR, and collegiate sports cements the arid wasteland void of random excitement, as viewers cling to a fleeting hope for fulfilling content.
Enter the always enlightening and uplifting by comparison glorified competitive eating squad of gluttony and hedonism, which is almost impossible to cancel, as the incredible fortitude of the contestants on all conceivable levels relies on the steady supply of hotdogs, buns, and plastic cups. However, world health professionals and authorities are demanding that contestants don a mask, which may hinder the purity of the competition.
If county fairground gorging does not fit the taste, the only other current choice for solitude is gravitation to the obscure chemical cocktails of performance enhanced supplements coursing through the veins of power lifters looking for the ultimate answer under the pretense of a spiritual journey. A few thousand pounds here and another thousand pounds there, how far can the human body be tested to the limit before a compound spinal cord fracture is burned into the YouTube trending hall of fame? As the bottom of the barrel is in clear sight, the programming selection may or may not involve smartphone drone drag racing geocaching adventures exploring gender identification. ‘Tis the season for gateway drugs welcoming the age of the surreal. Oh, the humanity.
WATCH: Thor ‘s hammer power of a world record being bullied into history
Anybody returning to civilization from the hinterlands of the abyss, and expecting at the very minimalistic solitary confinement standards consisting of a Bud Light, and a widescreen of sports highlights repeating every sixty minutes would be gravely disappointed, as the secondary marketplace dictated by the plague has transformed television into the antithesis of a nightly respite. As a modern human casually deadlifts over 1,ooo pounds (1,104 to be exact) of scintillating bar bending free weights in a highlight jump cut montage overshadowing home runs and inconsequential dunks, the fastidious and instant recourse of instant gratification cannot be discounted. Though the excellence in ferocity and tenacity is evident, the overriding presence of desperation is not at all a deterrent to the foreshadowing underlying message from Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome and an unruly crowd of radioactive savages cheering for a painful limb defying death.
Thanks to the stunning exploits of Mr. Bjornsson, it is just a matter of time before the innovative minds of the fringe sporting world fill the needs of parched audiences with something horrific and compelling.
