Handle with care
OK - before any of you continue -
please be warned. This blog may
be offensive. As turkey day nears
I must make a confession... your
montanaroue HATES football. I'm
certain some of you now want to
click off, but please let me explain.
You see, there's really no rational
rationale as to why I loathe you
favorite game. Yet try as I might,
I find nothing appealing about this
autumnal atrocity. In truth the only
super bowl I adore is Wedgwood.
The down and dirty
Of course it doesn't make sense. Especially
given I absolutely adore men. Hence any
activity involving big beefy studs should
be right up my alley. One has to admit that
most "players" are attractive even when
you know they might hurt you. In theory
what's sexier than a bunch of boys in tights
bumping into each other as they chase
each other's balls? While somewhat akin
to a gay leather bar on a Friday night, it
holds no allure for me. That's because all
of those glorious godlike gents are playing
a game I have no interest in. Zzzzzzzzzzz!
Why Americans find the idea of a
group of men running up and down
a field in yard increments simply
baffles. That combined with those
boys fighting over a silly little ball
seems silly at best. Does anybody
else find it completely and utterly
boring? Other sports require some
semblance of skills but as far as I
can tell, all that football offers is
a dazzling demonstration of brute
force. If I want to watch that type
of carnage I'll tune into C Span.
Halftime wardrobe malfunctions aside,
there's really no reason to sit through the
torture to simply be entertained for a few
minutes midway. I can think of a million
other ways I would for me to spend my
afternoon or evening than huddling under
a blanket on a cold wooden bench and
watching a bunch of aged rock stars as
they attempt to look and act young. But
that doesn't mean I won't accept your kind
invitation to a well stocked stadium suite.
The booze is free and even I occasionally
enjoy some nachos and buffalo wings!
Speaking of food, I've only attended
one tailgate party in my life. Why is
a parking lot full of drunks in any
way considered fun? While I like
to chew on the occasional brat, why
must I work that hard to nibble on
my weenie? First you must pay for
a ticket. Then you brave the traffic.
Next you pay for parking. Finally
you have to unpack, set up, drink,
eat, and then repack all of the crap
required to have "fun!" I'd rather
get drunk at home... it's easier!
What a bunch of turkeys
Yet honestly, that's not why I have
a problem with football. It's that
the game somehow usurped the
true meaning of Thanksgiving.
Mother prohibited the TV from
ever being turned on. Fortunately
Frank's kin are of like mind. The
reality that most Americans opt
to celebrate touchdowns rather
than offer familial thanks makes
me lose my appetite. Can't we all
focus on what's really important
and stop playing games? Thanks!