3 February 2014
0800 hrs
Good Morning, Ladies and Gents of The Patient Reader
species;
Well, how
about those Broncos? I hear that Seattle
is naming Peyton Manning their MVP of the game.
Just goes to show you, crying won’t win you a Super Bowl ring. I seem to recall Manning was upset way back
when he was denied the Heisman- the one that Charles Woodson from Michigan (?)
won it. There was a near allusion to
race (guess what color Mr. Woodson is) even though Woodson played both offense
and defense and spent nearly the whole of every game on the field of play.
I do not
have a TV, so I watched it online, in a broadcast in Spanish. I suppose if I actually have a second language, it would be Spanish, yet I believe I
actually know more Latin and Greek thanks to all those years of
neurophysiology.
I
understood a lot more of the commentary than I thought I would, and I admit, it
was actually pretty fun. Maybe some of
the fun came from seeing Manning get such a beat-down. I mean, he holds the record for touchdown
passes in a season? And the Broncos
scored more points this season than any other team in history? But I guess we’re back to the days where the
AFC kicks ass in their conference, but when they play the grown men from the
AFC, therein lies the challenge, eh?
Well,
enough bashing this morning . . . My
shoulder aches from doing so much swinging last night.
Now I’ll be
the first to admit I was Not Right (remember Patient Reader: I may not always be right, but I am never wrong. . .) in my hopes of Denver
barely eking out a win. I don’t believe
I ever made an actual prediction (I do not bet on anything but my own
abilities- sports, like anything else in this world, is subject to the Any
Given Day factor), but I sure didn’t think that Denver would endure such an
Ass-Handing as they got last night. IS
bless the ass-handings.
I admit I glean
an infinitesimal satisfaction knowing there is a certain Traci in SLC who is
probably eating her own young in rage. I
hearken back to the discussions of yore, when she was trying to tell me of the
merits of Denver vs. Dallas . . .
really? A team that lost four
Super Bowls (at the time) compared to another that had won four (at the time)? Not to mention that Super Bowl XII pitted the
two against one-another. Roger Staubach’s
Cowboys soundly defeated Craig Morton’s Broncos. Well, that rankled in her craw. So much so that she felt compelled to root
for Philadelphia against Dallas while watching said game in my very own
home. Sacrilege!
My friend
Tony (whom I mentioned in yesterday’s post and had recently moved back to the
area) and I texted back and forth through the game’s entirety. We marveled at the show, or Horrorshow, to
borrow from Burgess and the Ultraviolence.
OK, really
. . . enough about all of that.
It looks
like I need to wrap up and get to class, now.
I’ll post this and edit it later replete with pics that illustrate my
Mood of the Day (or the hour, depending on what Manic and Depressive have to
say about it).
“Au revoir, Shosanna!” I quote a certain S.S. Colonel. Patient Reader, I may or may not add another
post altogether later on today. Shall I bid
you all adieu’ for now? Splendid!
Always,
The Cunning Fennec Fox . . .
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