Greetings to the Depraved and Sleep Deprived;

Let me begin by saying that I am technologically challenged (and might I add, financially challenged as a result), so creating a blog is a bit out of character for me. On the other hand, nighttime mania, my unfortunate superpower, allows me to think and act in mystifying ways. Thus the birth of my crippled brainchild. The following content is unapologetic, crass, and certainly not politically correct. So if you have a proclivity towards Hallmark, Disney, and tact--or if your circadian rhythms are like a velvety Beethoven symphony --this may not be the blog for you. For all of you unfortunate, standing and pleading at the gates of R.E.M.; you, white-knuckled while awaiting your Ambien prescription refill; you, counting endless sheep--so many that you could felt around the world...Welcome. It is nice to finally have some company.

Monday, February 7, 2011

Superbowl Sunday...

12:55pm.  What an exciting game today.  And while I was rooting for the Steelers, I must say that Green Bay played exceptionally well (this keen observation coming from the girl who turned to her roommate and said, "I see them making plays and stuff, and then suddenly, out of nowhere, someone kicks the ball in the opposite direction...what's that about!?").  What has become increasingly fascinating to me, however, is the hype over the pre-game, half-time, in between game moments.  Did anyone catch the Michael Douglas pre-game commerical/advertisement/PSA!?  I thought it was going to be one of those commercials for Metlife or an infomercial for those mobility power scooters, with Catherine Zeta-Jones bicyling alongside her rotting, limp- dick husband.  But was even better than all that.  It was like this obscurely patriotic, Jerry Bruckheimer film trailer.  It referenced American greats and their contributions, using crafted old film footage, well-recognized audio clips, and the artsy montage technique. I was left confused.  Like I'm so sure Martin Luther King Jr. and JFK would have loved their valiant efforts to serve as metaphors for football and it's players' supposed staunch determination and heroicism.  Pretty sure Dr. King's dream didn't consist of exposing his genitalia to hapless women or growing a rapist's beard (I'm sorry Ben Roethlisberger, but what can I say?).  Yes, football's atheletes are talented (a talent they like to thank God if the "supreme being" didn't have more important things to do than ensure the outcome of a football game), but it seems to me to be a bit of dumb luck...its a uncanny ability coupled with a lot of training.  But enough about this team's ability to perservere in the face of adversity, or that team's ability to come together as a team when the going gets tough.  The bottom line is, they are making more money than I will ever see in my lifetime.  Don't you think that is determination enough.  It isn't a matter of heroes here, these men are rationalists.  Which brings me back to Big Ben.  Really, Ben!?  With all that money and fame you couldn't find a woman who actually wanted to see your cock...potentially even sit on it!?  I find that shocking. And lastly, the remaining topic I am forced to ponder when considering football, is the homophobic homoeroticism deeply imbedded in every game (and I know this is a big argument I'm bringing up here, and even contradictory to my earlier expression of awe for the game, but hey!  I'm generating questions here, not looking for the answers of which there are none).  From the sportscasters language, to the uniforms, to the multiple ass pats (perhaps some of the players have OCD, and just have to even out the love...or tap a cheek just right), to the doggy pile tackling, the game exudes bro-mance.  And yet, their is an anti-gay sentiment.  Has a player ever come out?  There is sure to be a queer footballer out there, but I assume he would be castigated if he ever came out.  It appears to me much like the army's old "Don't ask, don't tell" policy.  Perhaps that is why football is so all-American (did you catch the budweiser, chevy, Kim Kardashian commercials?), it is the America we truely live in, but are told to regard as only a "game."  Jovial, privileged, straight, white, masculine, physical.  And for this one day a year, we can happily buy into our warped reality, we can ignore the troubling realities elsewhere, we can forget that the American dream has never manifested, but rather been countlessly deferred.  And who am I to say I don't enjoy this break...

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