After 17 days of unfinished hotels, and Zika worries, and mysterious color-changing pools, and sick horses, and corrupt officials, and a missing Mary Carillo, and more sexist commentary than you could shake a stick at, and the reignition of the Cold War, and Phelps Phace, and one actually robbed athlete and, of course, Ryan Lochte, it’s time to drain the green pools and call it an Olympics here in Rio. Go get into your feathered headdress, wax up Mr. Tonga and let’s get this spectacle started! Continue reading “The Rio Olympics: Put on your broccoli costume, it’s time to end this shitshow”
