It's that annual time when I watch the rest of the country go
slightly loopy for something I couldn't care less about. Welcome to
Super Bowl Sunday in America.
I feel like a Sikh on Christmas.
("Super Bowl" is a registered TradeMark of the NFL -- Niggardly
Freaking Losers. It is used within this blog without permission. Sue
me, you greedy, capitalistic scum. What? Not interested? How about if
I start charging admission to my Super Bowl blog? Wait a second, the
phone is ringing....)
Ahem... Welcome to "The Big Game" Sunday in America.
I'm not a sports guy. I'm an artsy-fartsy guy. That's the way it's
always been, that's the way it will always be. The only sports which
remotely interest me are decidedly not populist; sports like long
distance running or fencing. (I watched too many Zorro movies as a
child. Admit it, though, swords are cool.) My mother's church tried
luring me in with their "Big Game" party today. You're barking up the
wrong tree, guys. Call me when you have a Monet exhibit.
Watching "The Big Game" hype is like watching a knitting
instruction video in Swahili. I can infer the gist, but it's a boring
much ado about nothing.
(Okay, having started my journalistic life in a newspaper sports
department, I know more about sports than most of my ilk, but that's
doesn't mean I give a rat's patoot.)
You'd think this would be a good day for people like me to sneak
out and get things done. Nope. Take for instance Disneyland. This day
every year tens of thousands of people wake up and think, "What a
great day to visit Disneyland. Everyone will be home watching The Big
Game. I'll own the park." Almost inevitably they find themselves at
Disneyland's busiest day of the year, pressed in so tight their lungs
constrict and they lose consciousness. (And, no, not even the "I
Fainted At Disneyland" t's are free.)
See, that pernicious Big Game creeps into your existence and
chokes out your life no matter how intently you push it away. You're
either reacting to it or against it. Should a dumb game really have
such a position in our culture and existence? Should we really grovel
at the feet of a monopolistic goliath that forces itself into our
homes and lives? I say no! I say screw the Super Bowl and the
insatiable, rapacious media machine it rode in on!
Rise up, my brothers and sisters! The next time you see someone
with self-identity issues walking down the street in a jersey that
has someone else's name on it, rip it off their backs! You're doing
them a favor. If someone asks you who you want to win The Big Game...
if they even mention anything related to The Big Game... punch them
in the nose! They deserve it.
Right now, get up from your computing desks, go to the window,
open it up, and shout out, "I'm NFL'd out and I'm not going to take
it any more!"
There, now don't you feel better?