Mr. Wrong: On Sunday It Is OK To Not Think About Super Bowl or America

ARRROOO!!!! I complain a lot, but (as a result?) I am generally in a good mood, and I am in an extra-good mood right now because Sunday Feb. 7 is Super Bowl, which is the best and Most Important and Most American Holiday of the year because it is the most American, by which I mean the most Equal Opportunity and Indivisible with Liberty and Justice for All.

I’m not fucking kidding around here, man, Super Bowl does not care if you are Jew or Gentile, Protestant or Catholic, or any of the other ones, like Cthulhu or whatever. Freedom of Religion, Freedom from Religion. Super Bowl does not care what Race or National Origin you Believe your origins to be Originated of. From. Super Bowl does not care what taste of the Sex Rainbow you are pleased to enjoy, as long as it does not occur on TV during Super Bowl, in this case XLIV in Roman Numerals, which is like, Educational and stuff, see? Super Bowl just wants you in the swirl.

Furthermore, Super Bowl color est e pluribus unus [1], if you will. Super Bowl does not care if you want Super Bowl, because it is almost impossible to not in some way be part of Super Bowl on-or-off-TV programming or the so-called counter-programming, Anti-Super-Bowlwise. It’s like, somewhere Out There, on Cable Teevee someplace, there’s gonna be derivative stuff like the “Puppy Bowl” or whatever they call it with all the cute puppies bumping around in a pen, and they used to have a “Lingerie Bowl” with ladies in underwear playing or at least pretending to be playing football. I’m pretty sure you don’t need a Men’s “Lingerie Bowl” because that pretty much just takes you back to Super Bowl, right?

There will also be some sorta “marathon” of something that is Specifically Designed To Interest people who Do Not Want or even Understand or even Want To Understand what is: Super Bowl. There’s even Church and stuff for a lot of people, and Video Games and Movie Theaters, and Shopping, and all this shit is just like, the Loyal Opposition, because it’s all effecting an extra kick in the be-hind to The Economies, Stimulus-wise, on account of the magnetic/repulsion effect of Super Bowl. Hey, you could even purchase and read one of those Electronic-Kindling books while you watch Super Bowl! Arrrooo! Plus: One Nation Under Snacks. I’m gonna make two kinds of chili. There’s lotsa Bowl jokes around Super Bowl time.

Super Bowl falls on the Just and the Unjust. I mean, have you seen this “Scripps Howard Celebrity Super Bowl Poll” where celebrities or whoever handles their email are picking between New Orleans and Indianapolis? There’s celebrity names like Phyllis Diller, Hulk Hogan, Penn & Teller, Pat (Big fucking surprise he picks not-New Orleans) Robertson, that boob Rod Blagojevich, John McCain, Apolo Ohno, Kobe Bryant, Mike Hayden (a former CIA director), Serena Williams, Larry King, and Maya fucking Angelou making Super Bowl predictions. Maya Angelou writes Books, man.

Before “The Big Game” (which is the name used by anybody who wants to do a Super Bowl event but doesn’t want to deal with the National Football League stepping on their neck on account of Trademarks and Copyrights and shit), there’s a four-hour “pre-game” show (which is when people who like to get shitfaced drunk at Super Bowl viewings begin the process of shitfacing) and there’s Sports Guys going blah blah blah Football, blah, blah, and there’s gonna be an interview with this guy Plaxico Burress, a pro football player who shot himself in the leg by accident and then got locked up for having the fucking gun. He’s getting interviewed from Jail, that’s how big this fucking Super Bowl is, man. Biggest Gang in America? NFL. They can fucking reach right into Prison to get what they want. Also in pregame is The President Of The United States of America, for real, he’s part of the runup to Super Bowl XLIV, seriously, Katie Couric’s gonna do a routine with POTUS XLIV, then you got America-Inc.-Military-Industrial-Complex all over this piece, probably a few satellite feeds from Afghanistan and Iraq, and when the game gets going there will be a colorguard of troops presenting the Flag and then some sorta ritualistic Display of The Militaristic Might of The United States of America, usually manifesting as a “flyover” of ass-kicking War airplanes cracking the sky over whatever modern-day Colosseum America is spectating Super Bowl at (some Bowl in Miami, I think), and I bet it’s totally an Experience to go to there, but that’s not even really the Place To Be, because errbody knows it’s way more Intense to watch Football on TV with all the replays and slow-motions and stuff, but Super Bowl doesn’t give a flying football if you understand The Game or anything else, because Super Bowl is not Football. Super Bowl is America sitting on ass in front of the teevee, watching Commercials and getting confused about the point spread (the Other reason Super Bowl jams economy), knowing Right This Minute we (as in US) have people in submarines cruising around ready to launch Atomic Missiles at The Enemy.

The Enemy doesn’t get much Super Bowl, man. The Enemy is dug in too deep or moving too fast. The Enemy has only two ways home: death, or victory, but that shit’s not mutually exclusive, get it?
That’s mostly why I enjoy Super Bowl, knowing at Half Time, while some totally effed-out rock band (or Who’s left) is lined up to Get Paid playing a fucking medley of their Greatest Hits under a dirigible, The Enemy is looking right at us, looking right at Super Bowl. Arrrooo! Saints cover the spread.

Footnote 1: ‘One from Many,’ was taken from, of all places, a recipe for salad in an early poem by Virgil.

Joe MacLeod is really busy keeping track of the snow.