matthearn.com

There’s really only one way to put it: The Onion-style.

HOLY #*$&ING #*$&
THE EAGLES ARE GOING TO THE #*&$ING SUPER BOWL

I don’t know how we’re going to do it, but we’re going to win this game. Somehow we have to beat the two-time Super Bowl MVP, the best head coach in the NFL, one of the top 8 running backs in the NFL, and a defense that gives up points like a fat kid gives up his bag of Doritos. But we’re gonna do it.

I’m told that the Patriots are favored by 6 points. Lame. We’re gonna crush them, and then I’m going to laugh, and possibly pour beer on myself and others.

I have to figure out where I’m going to watch the game. In a bar in Philly would be ideal, although difficult; inexplicably, Christ Church scheduled an evensong for that afternoon at which I’ll probably be expected to sing. I’m all, “What the hell, man? Jesus is gonna be watching the game! And probably wagering heavily on the over!” But nobody listens to me, because I’m just a little bee in a big hive. Also, I’m one of the sexless drones, according to Sarah.

So anyway, I’ll be stuck at church until 6pm, and I think the game “starts” at 6:30, which means 15 minutes of interviewing random players, followed by 7 minutes of commercials, followed by 5 minutes of watching the National Anthem be sung by a cancerous child backed up by 17 amputee midgets, followed by 11 minutes of commercials (featuring a new Aflac commercial where the duck gets decapitated and eaten by Raquel Welch, who not surprisingly was available), followed by kickoff at around 8pm, give or take 14 Coke commercials featuring polar bears with serious caffeine addictions. So hopefully I’ll have time to strip out of my robes and into my McNabb jersey, followed by driving at a highly non-recommendable rate of speed to a place with a large TV and a massive supply of cheap, low-carb beer.

Hm. Mikey has a widescreen. Note to self: purchase widescreen. Or at least go to Mikey’s for the Super Bowl. In which, I may have forgotten to mention, the #$*#ING EAGLES ARE PLAYING.

(Amusing side note before I run: I’m considering purchasing a new car for my wife, ’cause her transmission squeals like an altar boy in an S&M club. So I’m poking around the Mazda website. Mazda appears to be going for the “hip,” mid-20s demographic of which I still barely count myself a part. Their current ad slogan is “Zoom, zoom,” and all their cars seem to be designed with “performance” in mind: nimble suspensions, powerful engines, sleek lines. I find it amusing, therefore, that their website is slower than VW Bus with a parking boot on one wheel. That is all.)