THE BEASTS WITHIN

Before I left work I saw a brief bit of the ballgame on the teevee we turn on to keep the poisonous old snapping turtles in the backroom from soiling their diapers and scaring random strangers passing by. The Niners were playing in the snow, so the home team had an unfair advantage, seeing as half of the high school in that part of the world is decended from polar bears committing unholy acts with seals, and consequently used to hellish cold.

At least, that would explain the sheer insanity of working up a sweat wearing football togs in freezing weather. So would rabies, perversion, or masochism, I suppose, but I like my explanation better.

You can probably tell that I am not a fan of American football.

Running around clad only in padded underwear in the middle of a snowstorm is a good way to catch a cold. Low temperatures like that make every bump, tumble, or tackle hurt more, and slow down your reactions and thinking abilities. So by the end of the game the zombies left standing are probably closer to Frankenstein's monster than to anyone else in that film. Goodnatured, stupid, and slow.

One of my highschool phys. ed. teachers had us running crosscountry through terrain that looked like this picture. What he was thinking having brainiacs at an academic instution doing so escapes me. It is not at all surprising that he had all four tires of his car slashed and glue shoved into the doorlocks. If he had joined us instead of following our progress in his jalopy from the nearest road through the bog, he might not have survived. Oops. So sad, so sad.

It is largely because of psychopaths like him that I missed my chance to become a star athlete. It just didn't seem enjoyable at the time. Or in any way sensible.
And team sports always became mayhematic, so ...


I did learn that survival and not drowning at water polo meant drawing blood.
This is why alligators are not known for being team players.
And why you should watch out for sharks.
They're just misunderstood.


Most ferocious predators, we now know, would prefer to sit at home in front of the fire, wearing their fluffiest bathrobe and reading romance novels.


By the way: The Forty Niners lost today. Horribly.
They're no good at snowball fights.
Poor shmoes.



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