ENJOY THE PEACE

In what will probably not surprise anyone, I shall not be watching Kid Rock's alternative half-time show today. Shan't be watching Bad Bunny either. I'm sure it will be all-American as topsy, but in fact I shan't be watching teevee at all, all day. Even if the Forty Niners were playing, I wouldn't watch. Football isn't my thing. None of the popular sports is.

Well, long distance skating, perhaps.
Support your local leggy Frisians.
Sport of kings, bla bla bla.

The great thing about major sporting events is that the streets will be quiet and traffic fairly sparse. Only sane people will be out, with everyone else inside eating fatty snacks and losing their minds. During the Superbowl, even the rest of America seems sane for a change, provided you scupulously avoid the people.


By the way: The forty niners proved that the religious faith people had in them was entirely misplaced. As you expected. And given that the Magats in the backroom would have liked them to go all the way I am glad that they didn't. In particular Jeff. I am ordinately pleased that his enthusiasm came a cropper, his hopes have been deeper sixed than ever, his fond dreams have turned into sterile dessicated nightmares, and for this year at least his life is sour, bitter, less bearable, and deeply disappointing.

Never thought I'd enjoy his petulant whine as much as I do.

Like many Americans he has passion and vigour when he talks politics and social affairs, while being remarkbly ignorant and one-sided. He has proven remarkably blinkered, and his moral foundation has been so eaten away by influencers and Fox News type dingbats and influencers to the point that he is not fit company for man or beast. Or nuclear mutants, dinosaurs, and even drooling troglodytes from Texas.

Also, after forty years of being a lawyer, he has eloquence and could defend the devil. Which he does. In petulant whining fits that tire whoever he's spewing at. No, I don't hate him. But yes, I would like to see him sulk and whimper from acid-indigestion and frustration when his heroes are dethroned. I sincerely wish him and his kind lasting ill. When I think of him at all, which when not at work I seldom do.

Cankles, veinous insufficiency, and bowel problems.
Plus a lifetime of football defeats.
And bad dinners.



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