“How can you hate the Olympics?” they ask me. “Are you some sort of antipatriotic subversive? Don’t you appreciate the genius of Bob Costas? Can’t you understand the majesty of world-class Ping-Pong?” These are the questions I face every other year. Every other year, I am accused of hating the Olympics. Now, this accusation is inaccurate. I do not hate the Olympics; I just don’t like them at all. For as long as I can remember, the Olympics have been completely and utterly unmoving. This is ironic, inasmuch as we’re all about to spend the next VII weeks being reminded of how emotive and heart-wrenching and dramatic these games are going to be. This is not something I need to hear, particularly since the only thing the Olympics ever do is reinforce my dislike for a particular kind of American: people who like the home team simply because the home team is, in fact, the home team.
Read the rest of Chuck Klosterman’s article here.