Even if a picture isn’t worth 1,000 words, this photo of a stack of plushies of the Olympic mascot Wenlock, whose name suggests dark incantations to raise the dead and whose single glaring eyeball is the stuff of my adolescent nightmares, explains better than I ever could why I won’t be wasting any of my time paying attention to the Olympic games:
I would prefer delirium tremens, thank you.
This Is Drivel 