Consider if you will, wise and gentle readers (the rest of you too), how far the Olympics have strayed from their original ideal.

You need go no deeper than to weigh this single, salient detail. Athletes at the Ancient Games in Greece competed naked.

Far from being unclad, the "competitors" at the Vancouver Games (I refuse to call curlers athletes; they're Molly Maid on ice) have fuller wardrobes stranger than Lady Gaga.

Alexandre Bilodeau, who won gold in the men's freestyle "your policy doesn't cover this" mogul ski event, looked like a Teletubby in a biohazard outfit.

Then there are the speedskaters, in their Cirque du soleil skinsuits, goggles and shower caps, hands clasped behind their backs. They look like the attack of the lizard people. Or the wait staff at Carl's Fetish Bar.

I was in a restaurant where they were showing men's curling on the distracting overhead TVs. The Norwegian rink was wearing white pants with harlequin checks. I don't know if they were going for New York City pimp or the Osmond Brothers circa 1975, but I couldn't finish my meal.

OK, the figure skating pairs. Little princess skirted ingenues with careful underpants and guys in flouncy pirate shirts with the hands of a gynecologist.

Least naked of all, hockey goaltenders somehow manage to make me think of a manatee standing up and pushing a Swiffer.

Where is Joan Rivers when you need her?

I know what you're going to say. The Greeks never envisioned a Winter Olympics. They never saw enough snow to imagine it. Kind of like Vancouver that way, which I think is on the same latitude as New Delhi. The Greeks never would have competed naked in the snow or on the ice, you're saying.

You're saying that, first, it would not be practical and safe like, say, jumping off a ski ramp, and, second, it would not be comfortable and healthy like, say, drinking Coke or eating McDonald's, two of the Vancouver 2010 Olympics' major sponsors.

I'm not buying. I've seen enough beer ads to know that women, especially beautiful ones, can ski comfortably in nothing but a thong and a halter while bringing a cold six-pack to three male friends in turtlenecks at the bottom of the hill.

I've seen enough football stands to know that men can easily survive three hours in -20 degree temperatures with nothing more separating their naked torsos from the elements than a half green/half gold paint job and the glow of 11 Jagermeisters.

So don't give me the "it's too cold to be naked" line.

The reason they don't compete naked at the Olympics -- winter or summer (though beach volleyball gets close) -- is that we do not strive for the essence and purity of the Idea the way the Greeks did.

The Greeks believed, or at least Plato did, that everything we know of the world through our senses is like a shadow on the wall of a cave. What really exists is the Idea of a Chair, the perfect Form of a Chair. That is what is truly real.

The Greeks went in for that kind of thinking, when they weren't chasing after young boys. The Idea of a Chair or of an Apple. Or of a Man, virtuous, perfectly proportioned. That is why they competed naked. They were reaching for the Idea, the essential. (I think Plato had to modify his thinking after he lost 50 pounds trying to survive on the Idea of a souvlaki.)

Now it all seems like so much illusion. We know that the Idea of the Olympics as a striving for harmony, excellence, and international togetherishness, as a celebration of the human form, is not the guiding principle behind any of these Games.

The Olympics are a glorified billboard for cellphones and fast food and other sponsored products. We know that. We know the judges are imperfect at best, on the take at worst. So we turn it into a big bash, a circus, a crazy costume party. What else is there to do?

And curlers, if you're still with me, don't be mad. I know. You are athletes. But please, if I slip out of consciousness watching your sport, grab my tongue so I don't swallow it and choke.

jmahoney@thespec.com

905-526-3306