Sunday, February 03, 2013

Sittin' Out the Super Bowl

I’ve got no dogs in this year’s fight. I’m sorta-kinda for the Ravens as they’re the only team named after a poem. (Baltimore was Edgar Allan Poe’s adopted hometown. The Ravens are named for his Greatest Hit, which Poe rewrote throughout his brief career for re-publication and whatever it was he was drinking at the time.) I’m somewhat curious to see whether Baltimore gets treated like the Seattle Seahawks did during Super Bowl XL in 2006—ignored when not outright disrespected, with shamelessly crooked calls made against them in favor of the Storied Veterans of Super Bowls past. (I lost all respect for Pittsburgh, their fans, and John Madden following that one. Astute observers have noticed that particular Super Bowl has been long since shoved down the memory hole by the Propaganda Ministry.) But I’m not that curious.

Usually I’m up for the drinkin’ and snackin’ and hollerin’ at the TV. Any excuse for a party for this Good Time Charlie. Not this year. Just not feeling it. The Super Bowl is just weird to begin with, and not in the cool, “edgy” way. Football in February is flat unnatural. And I’ve got all the rest of the year to look at those commercials. All that, and I rather resent the notion I’m supposed to be going cuckoo for Coco Puffs for this, all because the TV told me all the Kool Kids are doing this, so I should, too. No thank you.

Instead, I’m putting up all my completed chapters of Bleeding Kansas in Web posts. I like how reading these things on a Web page forces me to look at them another way and edit them down. Once I’m satisfied with how the first five chapters work I’ll publish them. I’m hoping to do this by Saturday, and resume publishing the later installments every Monday.

I might take a break and rake the yard. Or take a nap. Maybe catch up on some reading. It’s Sunday. I’m not the least bit religious but I’m a strong believer in having one day out of the week in which we’re not all running around like the proverbial chickens with their heads cut off. I made the mistake of going out this morning to go to Costco and the grocery store for provisions. Ye gods. Not doing that again.

Oh, and one more thing: if Jay-Z shows up to “support” his wife Beyonce at the halftime show, they’ll be the Steve and Eydie Goulet of hip-hop. Which I find amusing. But not enough to sit through that. I’m still trying to figure out why Madonna was brought in last year.  


Quoth the Raven, “Nevermind.”