Privileged Jewish Oikophobia

So this happened:

Is that overly harsh? Well, screw it. I can't help it right now, Grayson. I'm caught up in the moment. You may be a perfectly nice kid, but it's a reflexive thing at this point; I know it's cliché, but I still feel about Duke the same way I feel about watching dudes wearing Google Glass toast with shots of Fireball. There's something physically revolting about watching an otherwise brilliant Final Four – populated by a Wisconsin team that proved one of the most charismatic in the recent history of college basketball, and vanquished the mother of dragons we call Calipari – wind up with Duke winning it all. It felt like it violated every rule of fun that Bill Raftery has established over the years, in working toward finally broadcasting his first-ever national championship game (at one point, I swear he worked in a reference to dietitians). It felt like getting to the end of a 700-page novel only to find out that the murderer was the one you presumed it was from page 3.

 What can you do about these seething resentments held by the most privileged against a powerless minority.