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Last Modified: Oct 1, 1995 |
LET US BOW OUR HEADS IN PRAYER |
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Editor's Note: Sorry folks! This column got lost for a while. It has been
dredged up, and resurrected, and now we present it here for your enjoyment!
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Hey kids, skip here, miss me? Of course you did, how on earth did you know
what to think with me gone? I mean lord knows in the America of the late
twentieth century, you the masses can't be expected to have actual
independent thoughts all your own. You have to be influenced by Hollywood or
music or talk radio or columnists or heaven help us, sports stars .
Which sort of leads us to where we are going today kids, the Holiest of Holy
Days, the High Communion of the Faithful, the DAY IN WHICH ALL IS RIGHT WITH
THE WORLD, that's right kids, Super Sunday is upon us once more.
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Now if you are scratching your head in a perplexed manner, wondering why
I used all caps,
for-god's-sake-it's-just-a-stupid-game-what's-the-big-deal,
then A) you are probably female and B) stop reading this right now cause it
just gets worse from here. Of course you are saying that I am a Neanderthal,
sexist, chauvinist pig. But it's not so, I am firm believer in equal rights
for womyn, let'em into VMI I say, equal pay for equal work, no more mommy
tracks for the sisters. It's just that you have to remember that being equal
does not mean being the same (thank God for that my friends). Let's face it
ladies, you just don't get football. I know what you're saying, you probably
know more stats and records than any three men you know, doesn't matter, you
still don't get it. They can put Hannah Storm on the sidelines for as long
as they want (though why they do that I don't understand, most teams have
cheerleaders already) and it won't make any difference. Football is ours
ladies, it's in the genetic makeup, it's the one thing that is completely
and unalterably male.One of the questions I always ask a woman on our first
date is whether she likes football, if there is even a glimmer of interest
on her part I get worried. I don't want to watch football with my
girlfriend, that's not why football was invented. I've watched other
sporting events with womyn and had an enjoyable time, but not football - it
just isn't natural. We now have womyn's basketball, baseball, golf, bowling
and hockey (hockey for god's sake!), but not womyn's football, don't have it
and don't need it.
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It's about more than watching the game, heck the game is usually irrelevant
anyway. It's about being a guy, it's about that one day when we can throw
off all of our problems and concerns and revel in being a guy. It's about
red meat done rare (because dammit that's how it ought to be done), it's
about swilling beer and eating greasy, salty snack foods, cause for that one
day by god, cholesterol doesn't exist. It's about guys who wouldn't so much
as think of looking at a womyn other than their significant other, howling
at scantily clad cheerleaders. It's about being with other guys and (god
help me I'm going to say it) bonding with each other because you're watching
the game with them and if they chose you to spend the Holiest of Holy days
with, you must be pretty damn close.
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That's why we love the Superbowl so much ladies, it's the one day a year
when we know that we are in charge. Haven't you ever wondered why we watch
eight hours of pregame followed by a thirty point blowout every year. It's
so that when you ask us to do something for you we can say "sorry hon, me
and the guys are watching football". It's not that we don't love and
appreciate you, it's just that for the 24 hour period of the Holy Day we
love football more.
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So you see ladies, we aren't trying to shut you out of the festivities (OK,
we are, but not in a mean way). We, as men, are just trying to preserve one
of the last places on earth that we can be men like our fathers were and
like their fathers were before them, the land of the Superbowl.
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Skippy
Skippy's Columns:
Generations
Skippy Looks at the TV Season
An Open Letter to Mr. Bob Dole
Responsibility
Friends
Let us Bow Our Heads in Prayer
The Family Column
Random Ideas
Why is Skippy Here?