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Cue the music.

Okay, so perhaps it’s more like “to go where this woman has never gone before.” But you get my meaning.

Or maybe you don’t.

In case you were camping yesterday, or hiking up Mt. Hood, or having a spiritual break from all things electronic, you know that the Packers won their game against the hapless Chicago Bears.

And so, for the first time in my marriage, we are going to the Super Bowl! And I’m not at all sure that I know what to expect. Mostly I’m afeared!

It started with whoops and hollers yesterday, a version of the happy dance, repeated outbursts throughout the evening of “we’re going to the Super Bowl!” and grinning for no apparent reason.

We are now under “Super Bowl” rules. I have no clue what they are. I only know it entails being awakened in the middle of the night should the Contrarian remember some salient? factoid about the Packers or game that he wishes to impart to yours truly.

Apparently it also means virtual non-stop analysis of yesterday’s game, the opponent, and any bit of trivia that traverses one’s brain case. No, I don’t care that Matthews favorite shampoo is L’oreal for Men. Nor do I care  about Roethlisberger’s abysmal pass/catch ratio.  But it seems I am doomed to hear them.

So far, I’ve been advised that Super Bowl Sunday should include stuffed mushrooms and shrimp cocktail. That’s assuming I get to a grocery store next week. I’ve been advised that I may not be negative in any way.

Ya see why I’m scared? This is borderline crazy world. I think the military has been advised to simply fence in Green Bay and declare it a mental hospital. Perhaps the entire state of Wisconsin, of which our friend OKJimm is a resident, has been declared in quarantine. I wouldn’t be surprised. They drink a lot up there I think.

Anyway, I’m secretly packing a bag and having it at the ready should I have to escape. You’ll see me pulling my sled across the frozen wasteland of the farm, heading toward Troy, where I hope to hitch a ride on a tractor heading for parts unknown. Just wave if you see me.


Meanwhile, I sure would like to see the sports headlines in Chicago today. Everyone is abuzz as to whether Quarterback Jay Cutler took a dive in the second half. He complained of a bad leg, suffered in a play he could not recall, and was not present during the last half. His backup, Caleb Hainie,  noted mostly for interceptions, lived up to his notedness.

The name alone is enough. Alex Karras, Detroit Lion of old and pretty good actor was wont to say a similar thing years ago about one of the long list of incompetent Lion quarterbacks: “What would you expect of a ‘quarterback’ named Milton Plum?”


I got a bone to pick with the NFL on rules. There is this idiotic one about pass receiving. It basically states something to the effect that the receiver must demonstrate control of the ball before it is considered a reception. Okay, you say, so what?

Well, said rule has been interpreted in such stupid fashion that a goodly number of legitimate passes this past season were ruled incomplete. This happens when the receiver catches the ball,and is either tackled immediately or is stretched out to catch the ball, making his fall to the ground a certainty.

Now it appears the idiotic refs have no understanding of gravity or basic physics. Ya see, when a ball is held securely, but fallen upon, the shape of the object “being semi-round” and the fact that it is air-filled, and is less weighty than the object falling upon it, causes it to skid a bit against the body. Even though the hands never lose contact with it. Refs have been calling this “movement” a demonstration of lack of control, thus the passes are ruled incomplete. Balderdash!

The Contrarian calls the rule one with “unintended consequences”. I call it a monumental idiocy.


I’m also fairly tired of the issue of “fumbling” which no longer means, “oops, I dropped it.” More often than not, a wonderful reception or long brilliant run is ruined by one or more lugs, weighing a ton more than the ball holder, who with massive maws covered with hard gloves, punch mercilessly at the ball, and “strip” it from the legitimate holder.

This is called sport. I call it, another failure to recognition  the laws of the universe. Big objects, often multiple in nature, thrust upon a weaker body, tend to dislodge the chit they are carrying. It is through no fault of their own. It ruins the fun of the game.

This “talent” which I call thuggery mugging is now taught in camp and training. It should be outlawed. Tackle the person, you bullies!


The Contrarian finds my objections trite. He’s says it’s the “lawyer in me”. But it’s not. I just like fun, not brute strength. If I want to see that I can go watch that awful boxing/beating/kicking/wrestling pretence on whatever channel it spews on.


There, I’m ready for the next two weeks!