THE GREAT GAME

This blogger is fully vested in football, oh yes. Perhaps you did not realize that. To my mind, nothing is more thrilling than spandex botties, astroturf, and pigskin. It is the great American tradition, and makes life complete. Without football, weekends would be dull, boring, empty, meaningless.

As it is for many of the boys in the back during their weekday existence. Which is why several of them are going to Las Vegas next week, as they do every year, for cigars, whiskey, brass poles, craps games, pizza, and swimming pools. Mostly cigars.
Empty lives.

You can probably understand my disappointment today.
There was no Forty Niner game scheduled.

I did not get to enjoy the spectacle of 'J the member of the Judicial Branch', an avid fan of the sport, who sits in the back every weekend when his wife lets him visit, adeptly and ably combining Orgasm, Tourettes, and Epileptic Fit. As he does during Forty Niner games. No hysteria. No exclamations of giddy joy. No worshipful mention of a procreating deity.
During whatever was on teevee today he quietly read the newspaper and smoked his cigar. His clothing wasn't rumpled and disarrayed when it was over, and he calmly expressed nuanced points of view.

To cover my sadness that there was no spectacle, I had another cup of tea and a pipeful of nice blonde flake, and made some snide remarks about Dambly the Pervert. But my heart wasn't in it.


I also cited Ibn Ezra and Rabbi Moses ben Nachman (The Ramban) a few times, but that was in the context of a side conversation to which most of the boys weren't privy, and regretably and predictably that did not generate the highly sexual expressiveness, swearing fits, and physical spasms or convulsive twitches that I love witnessing from 'J the member of the Judicial Branch', Dambly the Pervert, or the various repulsive bald guys.


Spandex, astroturf, and stubbled pigskin.
That's what life is all about.
Play ball!




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