The Olympics used to be my jam, the Super Bowl of my childhood! Picture this: I’d plop myself in front of the TV, utterly captivated by athletes defying gravity, heartwarming underdog tales, and epic human victories that made my daily life feel like a lukewarm cup of coffee. It was like the world threw a giant party, showcasing how we all could transform into superheroes—at least until my couch became my permanent throne! But then, like a magician that vanished into thin air, that sparkle fizzled out for me. Now, I don’t watch the Olympics at all—and let me tell you, it’s one less reason to workout, because the only gold I’m chasing is the one in my pantry!

First off, the whole thing resembles more of a corporate circus than an authentic sporting event. Every four years (or two, if you consider the Winter Games), the International Olympic Committee (IOC) unveils a multi-billion-dollar spectacle, inundating us with a barrage of sponsorships, ads, and branding. Sure, the athletes might be breaking records, but the real winners appear to be the corporations profiting from every fleeting moment of airtime. Coca-Cola, Visa, Airbnb—you name it, their logos are plastered everywhere. It’s challenging to feel invested in a runner’s personal best when the screen is overwhelmed by a fast-food chain cashing in on their success for profit.

Then there’s the politics—ah yes, the never-ending circus! I get it—sports and geopolitics have been best buddies since forever. Who could forget those Cold War medal counts? It’s like an Olympic edition of “Survivor,” complete with boycotts and flag-waving drama. But these days, it’s like every Olympics comes with a side of propaganda fries! You’ve got the host country bulging its muscles for the cameras while athletes are dodging cultural landmines left and right. Honestly, I didn’t sign up for debates about doping scandals, national anthems, or who’s kneeling for what. I just wanted to watch someone sprint like the wind or defy gravity—not find myself in the front row of an international soap opera!

The financial implications are significant and troubling. Host cities invest billions in the construction of stadiums and related infrastructure, only for a substantial portion of that investment to deteriorate following the closing ceremony. The situation in Rio 2016 serves as a stark example—venues now lie in disrepair and the local economy is in a worse position than it was prior to the Games. Similarly, Athens 2004 continues to display abandoned facilities that detract from the urban landscape. Meanwhile, the International Olympic Committee enjoys substantial revenue while taxpayers bear the financial burden, all for what ultimately amounts to two weeks of entertainment. It is difficult to support an athlete when the event appears to be primarily a financial drain that benefits a select few at the top.

And don’t get me started on the coverage! It’s like a never-ending soap opera about an athlete’s sick grandma or their childhood pet hamster that somehow took center stage. Seriously, folks, I don’t need a 10-minute tearjerker about a swimmer’s pet turtle to care about the 100-meter freestyle—just let me see the splashy action! The commentators dissect every single move like they’re analyzing a Shakespearean play, and the replays are so slow that I forget if I’m watching a race or a slow-mo audition for a dramatic documentary. It’s like trying to enjoy a roller coaster while someone keeps hitting the pause button—exhausting!

Finally, there exists a profound hypocrisy. The Olympics proclaim values of “unity” and “peace,” yet the reality is far more complex. Persistent doping violations, corruption scandals within the IOC, and athletes from economically disadvantaged nations who receive little opportunity due to insufficient funding—all contribute to a system that is fundamentally inequitable, masquerading as a meritocracy. I find greater value in observing a local track meet, where the stakes are tangible and the competition is less compromised.

So yeah, I’m outta here! I’ll just grab the highlights on my burner phone if something crazy goes down, but plopping myself in front of the overcooked, flashy Olympic circus? No thanks! I’d rather spend my precious time watching classic movies that don’t feel like a constant sales pitch for a one-hit-wonder or a glittery new toaster.