I think the wishes of all of my female friends are starting to come true. I think my love for football might be fading away. There was a time when I would ache during the week(s) between the last playoff game, and the Super Bowl. I was like a freckle-faced school girl from Iowa, staring up at an Andy Gibb poster, back in the 80′s. I fantasized about what I would eat. I wondered longingly, how the game would end. I prayed silently that it wouldn’t be a blow out. I dreamt that they cut the brakes on the “Bud Bowl” guy, before he made another commercial. I only dared to think about life, once the confetti stopped falling. Now I hope the announcers would fall off a jagged mountain, instead of force blathering, nonsense down our throats for 6 full hours.
I used to hope, wish, and pray for these things prior to the past couple of years. Now I just don’t watch. I don’t pay attention. And I just . . . don’t . . . care. Super Bowl XLV was just another game to me. I actually spent my 6 hours of pre-game-spew-time, watching shit like ‘Hoarders’, and ‘Heavy’. Yes, they are reality shows. And I have sworn by the Crown Of Oden, that I would rebuke everything that is ‘reality’. This, however, is where the degradation of the NFL has landed me. I am willing to watch shows about people who collect too much crap, and people who eat too much crap. Of course a great idea, would be a show about people who collect people who eat too much crap. Or, a show about people who ate people who collect too much crap. Once again, if any TV execs are reading this, give me a shout.
I totally blame the NFL for this of course. They have been watering down their product to the point that I can take it or leave it now, and I’ve been watching football since 1983. I suppose though, I could have spent those six hours in a more productive manner. Actually, now that I think about it, there are a lot of things that I could have done in six hours. I could have frosted my arm pit hair, to get a jump on my Easter outfit. I could have slaughtered my neighbors dog, and tried out this Taiwan recipe i saw for ‘Pulled Pooch’ in a light Béarnaise sauce. I could have gotten all the ‘orgy porn’ in my house, covered myself in crumbly-goat cheese and Mrs. Butterworth, and jerked myself off until the coin flip . . . . . . . . (mental note for Super Bowl XLVI).
I am THE CSS. Those of you who know me know that I am a man who says pretty much what is on his mind. At times I seem to have little regard for the thoughts or feelings of others. I have been labeled a robot, a monster, detached, and other unfavorable things in my short lifetime. Less than a handful however have ever queried as to why that might be. And to be quite fair, I haven’t extended an invitation to my “inner demons”. Well that is about to change. ... Read More..