I have gotten a bit rusty, missing an obvious Blue Velvet Reference, its ancillary Black Velvet Reference, and a Road Rash reference to tie all together. I guess the post was gay enough anyhow, and Lita Ford would have kicked that Canadian’s ass, no matter what her name is.

So now I am sitting at a desk in the burbs of San Antonio, drinking Maxwell house out of a single serving French press watching the garden trolls patrol the backyard pool. Exciting stuff. Last night I went to the River Walk in San Antonio. 

On the way there I found out that Alex shares my hatred of Fantasy Football. Well, his hatred is broad, where mine is deep. He is likely to dismiss you outright, no matter the level of your participation. He’s like that though. I dare say it’s his specialty, and he does it with enthusiasm. But much like Officer Shrift, he isn’t stickler for enforcement. (“We all do here [eat our words], you should have made a tastier speech!”)

I, on the other had, don’t care what you do alone on the internet in your bedroom, but if you start talking about Fantasy Football during an actual football game, you should be ejected from the premises. No excuses. I am going write an essay on this soon, so I will table the subject for the time being, but let me make one point. The “It Makes the Games More Interesting” argument, first deployed in defense of sports betting, is the worst since “Well, the Dutch do it that way”.

Who are these people that need to contrive reasons to watch football? It’s not a history lesson: If you aren’t interested, for everyone’s sake go do something else! There used to be a name for people who complained about watching games they weren’t interested in. Women.

(Disclaimer One: I don’t believe Sports Betting needs a defense, but people are always offering unsolicited ones)

 (Disclaimer Two: I know plenty of women who say they love to watch football, and I sometimes I even believe them)