I need to get something off my chest: I hate the olympics. (<auto-correct
just tried to capitalize the word. I went back and demoted it; it’s no longer
worthy). I used to just be disinterested, dismissing them as pointless and
boring. But this year, I’m actually pissed off about them.
For one, the inconsiderate folks at public radio have been
saturating my ears with updates about the games—and they haven’t even started
yet. (Is this the fault of the olympics? Somehow,
I’m sure…) In doing so, they have stolen from me news of the worthwhile. An
important, thoughtful, or informative story has been silenced because I need to
be told, again, about irrelevant and overwrought happenings in London.
I guess I also don’t see why nobody seems to care that it’s
just a giant corporate spectacle, with the celebration of athletic talent as merely
a sideshow. Or more, just a façade.
Every time I think about the astronomical waste it all is:
from resources to piles of McDonald’s trash to my brain cells during my morning
commute, my head nearly explodes in incredulity.
I’m not saying I would be any more satisfied with them if
they had maintained the integrity of what they were once meant to be. To me,
they’d still boring; but at least not a five-ring circus.
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