It’s been a busy week in beautiful, crime-free Iuka, Mississippi. In the span of just three days, we’ve managed to squeeze in two formerly pure joyful celebrations slowly spoiled by …
It’s been a busy week in beautiful, crime-free Iuka, Mississippi. In the span of just three days, we’ve managed to squeeze in two formerly pure joyful celebrations slowly spoiled by soulless corporate culture. These two events which were supposed to inspire men and women alike to aspire to be great today only inspire inadequacy and regret. We have stood idly by as these two holidays that once stood for all that was hopeful in postwar America have now turned into cynical exhibitions by modern commercial interests. Of course, I am talking about the travesties that are Valentine’s Day and Super Bowl Sunday.
Super Bowl Sunday is supposed to be the most romantic day of the year both for men and degenerate gamblers of all genders. It is the culmination of a professional football season that begins with breathless, round-the-clock coverage of the NFL Draft in the spring, through the next few months up until the first game’s kickoff which is called the fantasy football draft season and then finishing when the sentient corn husk that is Terry Bradshaw honors the herculean efforts of the famous players and coaches of the winning team by presenting the championship trophy to … the team owner that no one knows and whose only contribution to the team was inheriting it from his daddy. Historically, the game itself has been a clunker - blowouts more often than not. The games are usually mediocre, more “Green Arrow” than Super Bowl, if you know what I mean. At some point in the 1990s, the point of the game began to be a showcase for funny beer commercials. Everyone would gather around the water cooler at their jobs and giggle about the ads the next day while avoiding doing real work. Nowadays, the point of the game has become a showcase for halftime shows designed to either confuse or straight-up anger people over 50. Everyone gathers on Facebook to complain and threaten boycotts while still avoiding doing real work. Although, to be fair, this year’s big game was an actual good, competitive game between two teams that have been great all year. For those of you who bet on this year’s Puppy Bowl instead, Kansas City beat Philadelphia after a controversial pass interference call late in the fourth quarter. While they may be disappointed, I’m sure Philadelphia sports fans are handling this bad break with the class and grace befitting a fanbase best known for throwing batteries at opposing players.
Quick question: how do you know the economy is bad? Eagles fans are sneaking AAA’s into the game.
Valentine’s Day is the Lebron James of holidays. It’s a day that insists upon itself and arguments about its merits are more passionate than its play on the court. As good as it may be, no one’s picking it for their holiday starting five (for the record mine would go (1) Christmas (2) Halloween (3) Fourth of July (4) Elvis’ birthday and (5) Thanksgiving). At least Lebron was funny in that Amy Shumer movie. Do you know how much I disliked Valentine’s Day as a kid? This is 100 percent true: I used to break up with my little girlfriend in early February and get back together close to March. Anything to avoid asking my parents to drive me to town and then buy a box of candy with their money because they would have both the right and the time to ask me a hundred thousand questions about my girlfriend. I hated to be cruel … but not as much as I hated awkward conversations with my parents.
Regardless if you celebrated or not, I hope you had a good Super Bowl Sunday and Valentine’s Day. Hopefully, this year the only folks throwing batteries are Eagles’ fans and my exes.