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Friday, January 30, 2004

It Starts With a Whistle and Ends With a Gun --

Super Bowl XXXVIII -- yeah, baby. I'm talking Brady's come-uppance, son. Jags 50, Pats 0.

My Mom calls it the Stupid Bowl, which is further proof to me that I get whatever wit and smarts I have from her.

My favorite thing about the Super Bowl in my house is that it is the only time of the whole year that we have Kentucky Fried Chicken. I don't remember how that started, but oh boy do I love me some mashed taters with gravy and extra crispy special recipe drum sticks. Damn, boy, that's good eats. There's nothing that says "Fuck it, we're Americans" like eating poorly for a sporting event.

The all time number one Super Bowl moment, in my opinion, is when Scott Norwood's field goal went wide right. I couldn't belive that -- I was so sure that we were going to lose.

Worst moment -- the Giants losing to the Ravens. I was in Boston, so of course everyone hated the Giants because Big Blue is an extension of New York, and Boston is no New York by any means, and New Englanders are a sad, spiteful lot. I got so drunk that most of the third and fourth quarters are a blur.

One last thing, if you seriously watch the Super Bowl for the commercials, you need to reevaluate your reason for living. Are you a person with a free thinking brain, or are you a solely a vessel to buy things and consume media, mindlessly navigating the worthless and vapid sea of memes which we call modern society?

Phil Simms forever!!

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