Editor’s Note: We once again welcome a new writer to our increasingly impressive collection of literary titans. It’s not entirely clear what W.T. Salisbury is a doctor of, but as his business card states he claims to be a, “Medical expert, filthy drunk and purveyor of cheap jokes”. Little is known of the man beyond his origins somewhere in Maryland. Rest assured, we shall monitor his output as best we can, but I’m generally opposed to censorship so some strange things are liable to sneak through. Whatever’s right.
Few things in our culture represent America quite like the excesses of the Super Bowl.
From the moment the match-up is set until the final whistle, the spectacle of the thing overwhelms even the most diehard of football freaks.
It’s one enormous orgy of advertisements, flashing lights and celebrities all front and center with the backdrop of a football game.
There are so many commercials that the damn game takes over 4 hours. Bear in mind, studies have shown that football games have only about 11 minutes of actual action, the rest is just oversized athletes preening for the cameras and girding themselves to once again smash their bodies into one another with the force of a serious car crash.
Front and center will be that fair-haired idiot Roger Goodell. He’ll likely be preaching his hollow sermon about “safety” while expressing his concern for the behemoths poised to cripple themselves for our utter enjoyment behind him.
|"Hmmmm $10,500 seems a reasonable fine for someone wearing their socks improperly."|
It’s true, we’re no better than the Roman’s and their bloody coliseum, but at least they had the good sense to admit their bloodlust instead of hiding behind a façade of caring about the fate of the gladiators.
But what about the game Doc? We need a prediction so we can take out a loan and go lay down some money.
Good heavens, the game! Right then, all you degenerate gamblers need to know who’ll win.
As you may know, I’m from Maryland, which means I’m naturally biased towards anything faintly smelling of crabmeat and old bay seasoning. That distinction may not apply to the Baltimore Ravens directly, but anything located that close to the Inner Harbor will no doubt pick up those scents in time.
Most of the talk surrounding the Ravens has been centered on terrifying veteran linebacker Ray Lewis, who will allegedly retire after the game.
People who dislike him will often point to his involvement in that murder investigation years ago, which is fine.
The truth is, whether he killed someone or lied is immaterial because he’s just a hired assassin like all the other brutes on Sundays so who cares?
|Great for crabs, shrimp, chicken...one of these meats is not like the other ones!|
These are dangerous people trained to be as violent as possible and revered for these traits by the masses. You can understand if they struggle to separate football from life on the street on occasion. Besides, it makes for juicy storylines and God knows we need as many as possible.
Lewis and his vicious defense have actually lost a step or two and pale slightly to the juggernaut stoppers on the 49ers. But make no mistake, they are still quite good, and San Francisco’s first year accidental starting quarterback Colin Kaepernick has plenty to fear.
The Raven’s quarterback Joe Flacco is decidedly mediocre, oscillating between stupendous and incompetent, but all he really has to do is hand the ball off and not throw to the gold helmets.
It’s similar to what Kaepernick will be asked to do. Both will be treated by their coaches with kid gloves, but the defenses will do their best to turn them into human hamburger.
Right. So who will win you filthy idiot?!
I have to side with my bias in this case, but never EVER disregard the gut.
Both tell me that the Ravens will edge out the 49ers in a grimy, unfulfilling game next Sunday.
We’ll all be entertained like the jackals we are and there may even be some iconic plays during the game, but it will be a slog.
|Caw CAAAAW!!! Gaudy yet prophetic?|
I see Baltimore on top 26-22 for the record.
So enjoy the chicken wings and beer….oh, and the game!
Just don’t overdo it on the old bay seasoning.