The opiate of the masses isn't religion, it's spectator sports. What else would explain the astounding fact that millions of otherwise intelligent human beings, some of them evidently adult in other respects, feel that the athletic exertions of total strangers are somehow consequential?
[...]
Was it really a national disaster when a bunch of grossly overpaid, barely literate prima donnas refused to chase balls on artificial grass? Or when these paragons are revealed to be hormonally enhanced as well as ethically and intellectually challenged? Or if a college football team is denied a bowl slot? Is life so dull and unsatisfying that it must be experienced vicariously in order to be savored?
Here are some belated suggestions for [Joel] and his fellow sufferers, past and future: You might try reading a book, talking with your family, going for a walk, wrestling with the dog, listening to music, making love.
I don't know about most of this guy's suggestions. For the antijoel a beer, a joint, a couch, and The Big Lebowski are often the best way to savor life.

