Warning: This post might suck. I’ve got a premise, and it has a strong chance of sucking. I’m going to start typing and see if I can avoid complete suckiness. Let’s start sucking and see if we can stop.
Football. It truly is America’s game isn’t it? The strongest, most testosterone-laden males this side of Mr. Olympia gird themselves in the most advanced collision armor and do battle in gladiatorial coliseums. There’s dancing girls, television coverage, celebrity status and enough money to make it rain in strip clubs from Jacksonville to the Twin Cities (which is either the name of strip clubs in 20 different cities or a strip club in the cities with that nickname). Because we love football, we’ve made a collective social pact to ignore the growing evidence that football is inhumane. I’d say it’s a fact, but that’s breaching the pact of ignorance…Ah hell, I’ll call it what it is. I actually celebrate the big hits that are factually related to brain failure. Cant’ help myself. I love football.
You know the best day for football?
Thanksgiving. It truly is America’s holiday isn’t it? The most opulent country this side of Luxembourg throws nationwide feasts to celebrate having so much by engorging ourselves to a euphoric level of gluttony. There’s splendidly eclectic pie selections, families coming together, parades and enough tryptophan to put a baby rhinoceros into a coma. Because we love Thanksgiving, we’ve made a collective social pact to ignore the fact that Thanksgiving was the beginning of the Native American genocide that allowed us to inhabit this country. We ignore it so hard that we actually reenact Thanksgiving in elementary schools with pilgrims and Indians yucking it up around a cornucopia. But Thanksgiving is a time of thanks, and I’m not going to ruin my 10,000 calorie consumption day with death-thoughts. Can’t help myself. I love Thanksgiving.
I couldn’t do it. This post sucks. What a downer. Refer to my “Best Things About Thanksgiving” article on PolicyMic last year for a lift in spirits. Here’s number 5:
5. The Turkey Bowl – Everyone does this, right? You pull together an inevitably odd-numbered group of people for some touch football. Usually the teams consist of four bad knees, one dodgy rotator cuff, two hands that couldn’t catch a snail on a salted sidewalk, a guy who doesn’t realize what “just for fun” means, and the little kid who will get trucked by no-fun guy and run inside crying. At least then you have even numbers.
I’m thankful that my lunch is over and I had to give up on this post,
Dusty “Sucksgiving” Riedesel