• In the longest article you will probably read this week (from the New Yorker, obvs), Kelefa Sanneh talks race and asks the question, “is white the new black?” In this five-webpage-long piece, Salleh runs through myriad cultural references—from Glenn Beck to Stuff With People Like (forgot about that one, eh?) to “The Blind Side”—to talk about what it means to be “white” and how that translates to American society and politics. One of the most interesting New Yorker pieces I’ve read in a while. And it’s long.

• I’ve been away most of the week so my reading has been limited to nothing at all over 100 words. That said, I found it really interesting that Yann Martel, the Canadian author of the hit book and soon to be movie, Life of Pi, in a thinly veiled shot at the Prime Minister’s ignorance, has been sending him an important book every other week. The responses he has received have been formulaic and written by staffers, showing that it’s quite likely the PM is totally ignoring every letter. Maybe he won’t after this.

• Two 90s-related bits: First, Ta-Nehisi Coates learns to appreciate Aaliyah, which isn’t so remarkable in and of itself, but still a great excuse to go digging through Aaliyah Youtube clips. And of course, the comments section goes off. Also, this, “…my sojourn into the annals of white music has taught me to appreciate other kinds of singing,” which I think happened to me as well but I never noticed. Second, TOTALLY unrelated to that but also totally awesome is John Krakauer’s 1996 “Into Thin Air” O.G. new-new-journo piece for Outside magazine, which I’ve just read for the first time. Full of disaster and death and awesome writing and all that.

The closing ceremony is flickering on a little screen in my room but is overshadowed by the massive elephant that can’t be ignored: what did I do with all my free time before I watched Olympic coverage 15 hours a day, 7 days a week? I can’t remember, and frankly, a world without the brain numbing strains of “I Believe” gently wafting through the air is to me, a world of abject horror.

I have always loved the Olympics. I watched it as a child, waking up early and staying up late, cheering on athletes and indulging in national pride. This recent event in Vancouver however, reached levels of ubiquity in Canadian culture; and I don’t mean capital ‘C’ Culture, but culture like it’s on seven television stations non-stop around the clock for 16 days straight and all our national newspapers relegated an 8.8 earthquake in Chile to a skybox because our men’s team pursuit won a Gold — type of culture.

For fucks sake, our Prime Minister shut down our entire government in the middle of an Afghan detainee scandal so that he could hang out with Wayne Gretzky and attend every curling, skating, hockey and skiing medal event he could bojangle his prime ministerial self into. Even now the camera is showing him at the closing ceremonies, no doubt planning his next slanderous television ad when, inevitably “this onion ring,” is elected to Liberal office and runs for Prime Minister of Canada.

Can you imagine if the American House shutdown for a month in March so President Obama could fully devote his time to a college basketball pool?

So yes, I think it’s fair to say that over the last two plus weeks, the Olympics have been a big part of all our lives.

I, for one, am a big enough man to admit I am going to suffer more withdrawal than a lonely manic depressive walking out of Avatar who was eating popcorn laced with heroin.

On the sports side, I am glad Canada did well. I hope there is some carryover effect to the summer Olympics, and perhaps Canadian self-identity as a whole.

The old Canadian in me is skeptical. The CTV-Conglomerate Canadian believes.

Now to get out of my Rogers contract so I can sign a deal with Bell. They deserve my money. Bell is so awesome.