Our long national nightmare is over.
By “nightmare,” I mean the drumroll of breathless speculation, ESPN stat porn, and news-anchor joshing about who’s going to be whose daddy that culminates in that Great Event in the History of Our Times, the Super Bowl. By “our,” I mean those millions of Americans who would rather undergo a trans-orbital leucotomy with an icepick than the protracted brain death of pre-game hype, when our cultural conversation is pre-empted by a live feed from the jock unconscious of Team America.
Read more here.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment