My Apologies To Everyone

My apologies to everyone. I did it again. Whenever the Super Bowl comes up, I think of one thing, Bill Murray’s monologue (as Hunter Thompson) in Where the Buffalo Roam about the Super Bowl. It’s a decent movie, though not great. The monologue is gold though. I can’t get enough of it. Every time one of my friends mentioned the Super Bowl on Facebook, I felt the urge to post the quote in response. Often I did. Only once did I explain, and only upon request. Most of the time, people didn’t ask.

He became a man the day of the greatest game he ever played. Everything he ever knew about common decency and morality he learned that day in December from Alan “The Horse” Ameche; and today in the Superbowl he would earn his wings. The crowd had assembled; a crowd of America’s elite. Toyota salesmen from all around the country — orientals and even those suspected of being orientals — stacked on the thirty yard line watching him sweat and wipe caked blood from his face. The Gallow brothers — Ernest and Julio — party guys who had skinned a few Mexicans and forced them to carry them on their shoulders down to the pre-game tailgate parties at the colosseum. The Pepsi and Coca Cola bottlers of America — Coke adds life; It’s the real thing — bombarded by missiles; flying flaming matchbook covers. The waterheads from General Motors up in the top seats where they belong; getting the worst of the pollution. All sorts of weird motherfuckers were at the game.

I’m sorry. I just couldn’t help myself.