Aunt Marjorie is still at the table, Uncle Dave is in the den screaming about God knows what, and all the kids are jacked up on pumpkin pie. Yes, it’s football/Thanksgiving season once again.
But what is football? Some Americans call it “footy” but they are all promptly ridiculed and beaten by those who love them most. They want them to understand yardage, NFL Lines and why there are so many commercials.
Well, it’s not always that easy.
RIGHT: Peyton Manning, one “star” of the virtually hands-only game of “football” is seen here in a rare candid shot, showing off the effects of training on alien planets following his well-publicized 2007 abduction. The gamma radiation suffered will surely kill him within a few years, but until then he may or may not have super powers. (CLICK ON THE IMAGE TO ENLARGE)
Fantasy Football fans can agree, your family is pretarded. They’re not dumb, exactly, and they’re not ignorant, but they’re something a bit earlier in the pipe than that.
Improve your holiday arguments
Forget politics and religion. Sure uncle Ed only listens to conservative radio and cousin Kathy gets all her current events from religious radio, but you can up your game by introducing an argument you can win every time… it’s called football.
You can slam Kathy by telling her why God obviously hates Tim Tebow. You can trump your jackass father-in-law by explaining how head injuries only benefit the owners, while leaving the impoverished mere-millionaires playing the game in the lurch as they plow headlong into traumatic brain injury.
So this holiday season, forget trying to butt heads with people who think they know more than you and opt instead to take them out of their comfort zone and make them suffer in the domain where you are the master.
What’s the difference between college football and professional NFL football? Who cares? That’s hardly the point.
Football isn’t just America’s pastime, it’s also the easiest way for an amateur college athlete to make millions of dollars… um, I mean, earn a valuable degree he’ll use later in life.
Assuming his non-football degree involves forgetting everything he turned in on papers his tutor wrote*, and losing what little he learned to 4,000 collisions to his head.
* I vividly remember one 100-level English class I had with a football player at my university. Couldn’t miss him, he was ginormous, as big as three regular college nerds. He must have showed up to class about five times over the quarter, but his tutor was there every day, and I’ll be damned if he didn’t get a better grade in the class than I did… maybe he was just really, really smart.