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Countdown

Three more hours and I begin the trek to Ft. Benning, Jaja. And, while I'm TSIRTing my fingers to nubs on Sunday (and all the rest of the week, too, but this joke happens to refer to Sunday), you guys can watch The Game with your minds at ease, knowing I'm out there cussing a blue streak stoically preparing to defend your sorry butts right to nacho your LDL numbers into low Earth orbit.

Ummmm -- save me a couple of chili-dogs, John. Extra cheese.

A Patriots fan has 50-yard-line tickets for the Super Bowl. As he sits down, another Pats fan comes down and asks if anyone is sitting in the seat next to him.

"No," said the firstcomer, "the seat is empty."

"This is incredible!" said the second fan. "Who in his right mind would have a seat like this for the Super Bowl, the biggest sporting event in the world, and not use it ?"

Somberly, the first Pats fan says, "Well, the seat actually belongs to me. My wife usually accompanies me, but she passed away. This will be the first Super Bowl we haven’t been to together since we got married in 1967."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. That's terrible. But couldn't you find someone else -- a friend or relative, or even a neighbor -- to take the seat?"

The man shakes his head, sadly, "No. They're all at the funeral…"

Heh. A present for Maggie from her neighbor, Baby-san.

4 Comments

What is this "Game" of which you are speaking, Chief? Is it the one during the watching of which, (according to Ms. Dworkin and her ilk) the men beat the hell out of the wimminz, and the normally weird people like me can enjoy mostly empty roads, free from the usual a-holes, said a-holes being at home, staring at TV sets depicting stupid ball games, with their mouths hanging open. Hmm, having no emotional investment in this, maybe I could be a cold-blooded dispassionate bettor on the outcome! It's late to start learning, though, I'd prolly bet like a sucker, and it ain't legal where I live, anyway. Owhell.
 
P.s. I've written about this before, but I'll say it again: I remember reading the Tom Clancy novel, "The Sum of All Fears", I think it was, in which the Super Bowl got nuked. I thought, eww, what about the poor bandsmen? I think that there are no bandsmen at the Stupor Bowel these days, so, uh, I don't think I'll complete my exposition here but y'all can catch my drift, and so froth, and forth. In general, all of the places which the Feds define as prime terrist targets, such as feetball stadia, shopping malls, New York City, Miami, Boston, Atlanta, New Jersey, Chicago, large public gatherings of any type, etc. etc., are places which require considerable effort of will on my part, if not coercion by other people, for me to visit them.
 
Wow, I'm almost 66 years of age and this is a really old joke. Started, I believe, during some 50's World Series game. Those were the years, only off-field booze, sex and bribery, none of the on-field steroids,amphetimines,cocaine and off field rape, dog torture,and, corrupting endorsements of today's worthless pro/collegiant "sports". mike
 
Sport is cool if that's all it is, just fun. American football at its best is both very cerebral and very physical. That's why so many guys get a charge out of playing it. Sadly, it seems to have gotten all warped and distorted, lately, into something like the chariot-racing factions in the last days of Byzantium. I believe both Jerry Pournelle and David Drake wrote stories which recycled a justifiable massacre done in Constantinople, against sports fans in a sports stadium.
 
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