What your view of sports and life would be if you had too many concussions
First of all, there’s a reason I’m not calling it the “Super Bowl.” The commie pricks that run the NFL trademarked that term, which means Kommissar Goodell can actually sue me for unlicensed use of that term. Even a professional dim-bulb like Goodell realizes that suing a small, albeit the most interesting independent sports blog on the web is like getting blood from a turnip.
Second of all, when I say “vegan,” I don’t mean I intend to start following some fucked-up hippie-ass diet where I only eat dandelions and twigs. Despite my advanced age, I still like going to the gym and out-muscling punks half my age, which means I eat meat…and lots of it. I consume animal flesh in such large quantities federal law requires me to post this sign on my bathroom door.
I use the term “vegan” because the only way you really know somebody is one is when they tell you they are…and boy, do they love to tell you about it. They are almost as obnoxious as the “CrossFit” ass-wipes with their self-serving, sanctimonious “look at me” bullshit. This is actually the opposite. Instead of me yelling “look at me,” this actually about the look I get from people when today of all days, I say I am not watching the
Super Bowl Professional Football Championship. It’s the same look you give people when they tell you they’re a vegan.
It’s a stunning, almost anti-American revelation, but there’s a lot of reasons why I won’t be watching.
Super Bowl Professional Football Championship parties suck; there’s nothing worse than watching football in a room full of people who don’t know a goddamn thing about it. Worse yet, since we’ve turned this is into a de facto national holiday, I’m spending time in a room full of people almost as machine-gun worthy as my actual holiday gatherings. Not to mention, I’ve actually been to a Super Bowl Professional Football Championship party where the host offered a completely vegan board of party food fare, and things got really awkward when I expressed my displeasure by setting his house on fire.
Two, and stop me if you’ve received this message from me before, but the NFL in general is about as watchable as morbidly-obese midget porn. I know I voiced that at the beginning of the season, but the play-offs only re-enforced that conviction. The post-season is supposed to represent the best the league has to offer, Like I said in my traditional “Why You Shouldn’t Cheer For” piece, this league is awful to watch now. Watching the NFL’s biggest crap-tacular in a room full of annoying mouth-breathers…I’ll pass.
Thankfully, I don’t need to watch the
Super Bowl Professional Football Championship. February is when Turner Classic Movies (my favorite channel of all time) spends a full month celebrating Academy-award winning films. As I’m writing this, the 1968 Steve McQueen thriller “Bullitt” is on my big-screen, and my DVR is a treasure trove of America cinematic classics. In other words, between TCM, the NHL, the NBA, I don’t need the NFL for one fucking thing.
Lastly, not partaking in the
Super Bowl Professional Football Championship, I don’t have to listen to every mouth-breather’s bullshit tomorrow about whatever happens tonight. As my blog brother from another mother discussed in the comments section of “Ask J-Dub,” there’s nothing worse than people who know you are a sports blogger and engage you in a conversation to which your opinions are already in print. That’s why come Monday, the first person who asks me about the Super Bowl Professional Football Championship or thinks I’m actually becoming a vegan is getting their windpipe pieced with a ball-point pen.