Parlor Spider...Step In, Little Fly

Insightful thoughts and/or rants from atop the soapbox from one who wishes to share the "right" opinion with everyone.

Saturday, February 02, 2008

No Reason to Watch

The big day is just around the corner...no, Punxatawny Phil has already seen his shadow, predicitng six more weeks of winter. No kidding? As I gaze out my window to see the snow covering everything in sight, I notice the dog is still there. That's the one who got frozen to the fire hydrant on the corner the other day. Heck, it'll take six weeks just to thaw out the rabbits in my yard. So, no, the "big day" isn't spring...I mean The Super Bowl which will be contested in Arizona tomorrow. How ironic, two teams from the Northeast playing in the desert. I figure if they'd played in New England someplace, the Giants would have a chance. (at least the way they played against the Pack in cold weather)
Anyway, I usually don't watch the game because one of my "rules for living" is that I never do anything a couple of million people would do. Thus, I refuse to vote on "American Idol," and I refuse to watch ANY program that's billed as a "reality" show now that Ozzy Osborne or "Dog the Bounty Hunter" are no longer on TV. (on a related front, Duane Chapman is free from the worry of being extradited to Mexico. If you don't know the story, never mind) I refuse to wear the latest fashions even though Abercrombie and Fitch uses my likeness in their stores to sell stuff to well-ripped guys who obviously need shirts because they never have one on!
Now, with the exception of a surprise costume malfunction (which will never happen because of the 10-second delay thing), there is little reason to watch the big game: the commercials are already on the internet. I loved the Planter's Peanuts one, and the Cars.com was cool, too. My vote for tops would have to be the Diet Pepsi Max one. While some of the ads are only brief teasers, it's enough for me. I can cheerfully await the replays of all the great plays (over and over until spring training begins). I won't have to hear (again) how it's OK for men to have a crush on Tom Brady or whether Plaxico Burress can back up his prediction, presuming he even plays. Enough. Time for a nap.

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