compassion, collaboration & cooperation iN transistion
IT IS becoming increasingly apparent to the peoples of the planet,
that the consequences of actions taken by those who have sought to
utilise their celebrity status, across the board - for the covetous
the trust of the very victims of these breakdowns in trust, as well as
the vast majority of the peoples who have entrusted the powers
that be to do the right things for the right reasons - in no dissimilar
manner to the four Icelandic bankers going to the party and the
entirety of the Icelandic population 'waking up with the headache'.
Having recently finished watching both of the recent Lance Armstrong
television documentaries, Linnie and I were both struck by the similarity of
mindset of Lance Armstrong with that of Robert Maxwell - both being
larger than life characters, who bullied their way to supposed success,
without one jot or tittle of consideration of the consequences of their
actions, let alone the consequences of consequences, as they burgeoned
forward with their agendas.
As Gabriel Tate has recently stated in the Telegraph ...
"Has there been a greater tale of sporting hubris? A seven-time
Tour De France champion, revered for overcoming cancer then raising
millions for charity, brought low by irrefutable allegations of doping.
Yet the rise and fall of Lance Armstrong is oddly unsatisfying for those
seeking a clichéd narrative. Now, as then, the man at its heart refuses to
play ball. The latest documentary about Armstrong, The Armstrong Lie
from film-maker Alex Gibney, corners but – rather like Errol Morris in
his recent profile of Donald Rumsfeld – fails to pin down this most
slippery and defiant of customers. In it, Armstrong shows himself to
be a master of the unrepentant apology, preferring to bully his inquisitor
into self-doubt rather than face his own demons".
While Ben Lawrence's report on the second documentary, which provided
much more of a comprehensive narrative for Linnie and I, opened so ...
"Before watching The Lance Armstrong Story: Stop at Nothing (BBC Four),
I racked my brains to remember what I had thought of the cyclist in the
years before the doping scandal. All I could think of was the fairy tale which
Armstrong perpetuated and which this Storyville documentary edited and
shredded in order to make the sorry tale all the more extraordinary.
After the then-25-year-old American had been treated successfully for
cancer, the Lance Armstrong Foundation was established to provide
support for those suffering from the disease. We saw Armstrong shout
inspirational statements (“We believe in life. Your life!”) while dozens of
yellow silicon wristbands floated on a screen behind him like miniature
halos. We saw celebrities quick to endorse him.
The documentary juxtaposed hyperbolic devotion with the dirtier business
of Armstrong the liar and the cheat and this was where things became
horribly fascinating. Armstrong came across like an unimpeachable god,
crushing his opponents with an imperious flick of the wrist. When
challenged by a journalist about his drug use, Armstrong asked whether
he had “extraordinary proof ”: the choice of words showing Armstrong’s
unwavering belief in his untarnishable public image".
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