Mike:
Well, today is the last day with a Pope and tomorrow it's SEQUESTAHGEDDON
Doug:
OMG SEQUESTAH!!!
Planes will fall from the sky, our drinking watah will be poison, and the national pahks will close... I mean holy fucking shit, people, THE NATIONAL PAHKS!!!!
Al:
I'm just glad that before the world as we know ends (again) I can scratch "get quoted by ESPN" off my bucket list.
Doug:
But Al's like pornography, you know it when you see it.
Mike:
True. And since Al happens to be a BMI-challenged Pisan with a priapismic bonah for mozzarel, the "takes one to know one" veracity has been fully vetted.
Al:
So the weathah this February has three options...
Al:
1) Snow 2) Snow hahd 3) Snow wicked hahd
Mike:
Speaking of fluffy predictions, it looks like they may have found out why Lestah went from Cy Young contendah in 2010 to meatball vendah thereaftah...
Mike:
So I open my Red Sox news alert email from Google this morning and I read that Aceves has "issues" and "clashes" with coaches by "testing the limits" and I'm like holy shit!
Mike:
First of all, yeah, WTF? Second of all, what's he gonna do for revenge, walk 7 battahs in the first 2 innings while putting everyone else into a zombie stupor from the boredom of watching his tortuously lame ass excuse for pitching?
Susan/Circle:
It'd be funny if he was waiting all this time for the perfect opportunity to unleash the fury of the Gyroball.
Doug:
So when there is breaking news concerning the Papacy and/or the Catholic Church, who can you turn to for an informed, impartial, sagacious soundbite?
Bill:
Whenevah a pro athlete is caught in some off the field unscrupulous behavior—sex addiction, wild partying, family issues, whatevah— we get the old fingah wag telling us fans about lack of privacy and how playahs should only be judged by their merits on the playing field and not the stuff off the playing field.
Bill:
So, OK, then. If we're not going to judge you on the bad off the field stuff, then I'm also not going to judge you on the good off the field stuff.
Bill:
And Lackey on the field?
Mike:
Crippling.
Bill:
That's right. Terrible pitching compounded by the peevishness of waving arm tantrums, yelling at the umps, and glaring at teammates.
Bill:
Though I confess it just doesn't feel the same now that it's gone mainstream and everybody has a Truck Day.
Mike:
Yeah, it all stahts so easily... a pink hat here, a little pink there.*
[NSFW].
Bill:
Then all of sudden it's a sea of pink hats, truck days galore, and you hear your fave teenage years obscure punk song pumped in as background Muzak while you're standing in the marble foyer of a 4 star hotel. Sigh.
Mike:
It's like Nietzsche asked in The Parable of the Madman when he contemplated a world where nothing is sacred, "What water is there for us to clean ourselves? What festivals of atonement, what sacred games shall we have to invent?"
Bill:
Emerson says, "Nothing is at last sacred but the integrity of your own mind."
Doug:
It hangs in the air like the incense on a day of holy obligation...
Doug:
This feeling that one must discuss the Super Bowl on the day aftah the Super Bowl.
Mike:
But there's not much to say, really, is there?
Mike:
I mean, let's see...
Mike:
There were the ads, which in the end were, er, ads, despite giddy palpitions that somehow these 30 second enticements to buy something are actually some gestalt, some pinnacle of all mankind's artistic bloom...
Mike:
Then there was a boring first half...
Mike:
Then Beyonce came out, popped her ass and gave menacing "if you think I'm lip syncing, I'll cut you" looks to the camera...
Mike:
Then the powah went out...
Mike:
Then San Fran staged a comeback...
Mike:
Then, ultimately, Ray Lewis killed his girlfriend.
Mike:
There. We've met our obligation to discuss it.
