This blogger, as you know, is not a sports fan. Frankly I cannot stand televised games, particularly the stupid spectacle called football in the United States. On the other hand, watching (or hearing) sports fans is great entertainment. Lost bets, too much liquor and cigars, screams, sweating, Tourette Syndrome, quivering fits, bizarre chanting, and seizures. And that was just one man there. Sometimes a very stable man, what with being a responsible member of the community, with gravitas, and educated.
Some of the others were much much worse.
We had a room full of them.
Crazed gibbons.
The Monkey House at the zoo has nothing on these boys, damned good thing there was neither pooh nor bananas anywhere near them.
One of them came in as aged Parmesan, left as deliquescent Brie.
Other metaphoric cheeses: Gorgonzola, Swiss, Limburger.
Fan sports: the great cheese pit of life.
They probably all breakfasted on pizza before they got there.
And performed blood sacrifices. Live goats.
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