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Another SuperBowl

Another year has come, and another Sunday afternoon will be spent glued to the boob tube to watch two teams slug it out some call this age’s equivalent to the gladitorial spectacles way back during the Roman Empire.  Sports was part of my family, my father dedicating weekend days to plopping himself in his favorite chair and verbally throtling his team, the Raiders.  He’s long abandoned watching the Raiders, finding other things to occupy his time now that he’s retired.  It worked out for him; he probably would have had his head explode in the 2000’s with the Raiders’ ineptitude of having a winning season.  Plus he has his kids to take up the reins; now we’re forever cursed.

There are those that wish ill will for anything that brings men together in a pissing contest, reminding their buddies that their own team rocks because of how well this particular play went or that particular pass or run went, and somehow correlating it to the fact that the member which is involved in said pissing contest is….well you get the picture.  P.S., I don’t get that level of involvement either.  I’m busy eating their snacks.  Yum!

A thought came from another blogger, posting the question about not being a feminist because she was going to watch the SuperBowl.  Link here: http://thewiddershins.wordpress.com/2010/02/05/feminist-friday-revoke-my-feminist-creds-im-watching-the-superbowl/.  It also talks about sex and women, etc., and some link between pro sports and the sexism.

My two cents: I just don’t care.  It’s a sporting contest.  Yes, football probably could be considered the most testostone-ladeled sport in America next to the UFC fights.  I’m sure football has launched a multitude of statistical projects, such as “how many husbands beat their wives during the SuperBowl”, and “how many commercials during the SuperBowl portray women in a negative way”, and “how many wives have died the night after the SuperBowl due to their husbands eating too much dip and farting a fatal odor”.  I watch it because I think it’s fun.  Period.  If I have family over, we talk about many things besides football, connecting as families are supposed to do.  If I choose to reduce my IQ with “neadrathalic wastes-of-time”, so be it, and I’m going to love doing it.

I’ll see you in 50 years, when I’m a drooling vegetable after years of football.  DE-FENSE!!  DE-FENSE!!

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