The Winter Olympics

I don't think it's physically possible for me to care any less about the Winter Olympics. Honestly, I'd rather watch the Special Olympics. At least there's something self-satisfying about cheering for a retard. No such satisfaction in seeing a bunch of Canuck fags brushing the ice in front of a 40-pound disc of concrete. I just don't get the appeal. Hockey su-ucks big time, the bobsled blows, figure skating is boring, and snowboarding is probably less exciting than reading the tax code. The only fun thing to watch during the Winter Olympics is the speed skating. I love watching men and women glide around a track in skin-tight rubber suits while wearing a razor-sharp 10-inch-long blade on each foot. The possibility of a whipeout is too exciting to ignore. If, just once, I could witness an eight-skater pile up in which someone loses a finger, I'm happy for the next four years. But otherwise, what's so special about the Winter Games? Is there something truly athletic about staying on a sled for the whole trip down a mountain? Or chucking a slightly-rounded cinderblock down a 20-yard stretch of ice? Because if so, I have truly missed my calling. Curling makes being a professional paint-drying-watcher-guy seem positively mesmerizing. I've seen pro curlers actually go into a coma in the middle of a throw...