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Tune in Tomorrow: Expanded Super Bowl Coverage!

Tune in tomorrow for fantastic coverage of the Super Bowl on the DB! As expanded as you want it to be! Simply drop in to comment on the miserable time you're having, wherever you are, being forced to watch the game with friends and relatives! You may even complain about the game itself! I don't care what you say, really, as long as you drop in and vent. Why, you may even report that you're having a great time(!) watching the Patriots and the guys from Philadelphia, whatever their name is, if that's where they're from.

The only thing I know about football is fifty yards, and, oh, the players are much bigger than I am - which, at my size, you notice. Did I mention that I have two degrees from the University of Notre Dame, and that I still think that football is unwatchably witless?

Comments

be grateful you don't live in Patriots-land. Superbowl Sunday in Boston, and all three of us have the stomach flu.

Say it isn't so! I thought you were resting up in sunnyfla! I recommend: interminable video series, something like, say, Jewel in the Crown. Remember, in case of the heaves, give Max the airsickness bag before attending to Biscuit Boy. (I say this having just seen in the Times that some airline workers are making less than Wal-Mart cashiers - my confidence rebounds!)

I will not be watching the Super Bowl, but not because I don't like football--I do, but I very much prefer watching college games (even though I have only one degree from Notre Dame, I am a big fan, despite the abysmal showing the Fighting Irish have made the past few years). The pro games are simply too boring for words. Even my spouse, who is an avid sports fan, is very much ho-hum about the Super Bowl (which he refers to as the 'Stupid Bowl'). And this year, given the half-time entertainment, we don't have the prospect of a 'wardrobe malfunction' to look forward to. Instead, I shall settle in with a good book on Sunday night (perhaps 'The Ambassadors').

Improbably, I report that I watched every second of the Super Bowl in Sedona, AZ, upstairs from the "party" in bed with two corpulently cozy and funny midwestern women who were totally into the game. We seriously watched all the plays, the commercials, the half time. We giggled. We yelled. We made uncanny predictions. The game was an interesting one. The team with the better outfits won, which was so "fitting." The choir singing the national anthem before the game was ethereal. The half-time was a middle-aged wet dream: Paul McCartney. I had a delightful evening and for that make of it what you will. (RJ, there are 100 yards in a field. Silly you!) I suppose I am posting this in my usual posture of reactionary.

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