Category Archives: Night Writer

Intelligent Design in Hollywood?

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X-Men 3: The Last Stand is about to come out on DVD, which prompted this non-football-related thinking from ESPN’s Tuesday Morning Quarterback, Gregg Easterbrook:

Of course, one must suspend disbelief when it comes to superheroes. But what TMQ always wonders about X-Men, Superman, the Flash and the rest is: Where are the body organs that support their powers? I’m willing to believe a superhero can fly, but where is the organ that provides propulsion? Supposedly Earth’s yellow star activated in Kal-El powers that he would not have had under the red sun of Krypton. But still, some internal organ must produce the energy for his heat vision and the thrust for his flying and so on. In “Superman Returns,” Supe can even fly faster than light, a power he lacked in the comics; apparently some organ too small to even bulge under his skin propels him to warp speed. Really, there must be some physical point of origin for a superhero’s power. Storm must have a body organ that projects force fields that control weather. Iceman must have a body organ that can reduce temperature very rapidly, plus shed heat so Bobby doesn’t boil. Where in their physiques are these organs?

Beyond that, the X-Men premise defies scientific thinking about natural selection, which holds that new organs develop very slowly across hundreds of generations. Assume some body organ can allow Shadowcat to walk through walls or Colossus to change his skin to steel: it’s unimaginable such an organ could arise de novo in a single mutation. Many generations of relatively minor mutations would be required before a novel body organ could come into full functionality. Biologists from Richard Goldschmidt of the early 20th century to Stephen Jay Gould of the late 20th have speculated there is an as-yet-undiscovered natural mechanism that enables accelerated evolution. Otherwise it’s hard to imagine how creatures lived through long chains of generations with still-evolving incomplete organs, since incomplete organs should be a fitness disadvantage and thus render their possessors less likely to reproduce. Unless the X-Men are an argument for intelligent design! The intelligent-design crowd believes natural selection can produce minor alterations in existing forms but cannot produce new organs or new species; a higher intellect controls that. The sudden, drastic evolutionary jumps depicted in the X-Men movies and comics sure feel like intelligent design. In fact one of the most interesting X-Men, Nightcrawler, asserts that the very rapid evolution he and his friends experience could not occur naturally and must be the result of God intervening for reasons not yet known.

That’s an interesting point, especially for a football columnist. Personally, I favor something more like the Intelligent Design model, though evolution is clearly the model in the NFL. Think about it:

330-lb linemen with cat-quick reflexes: evolution.
260-lb tight ends with 4.5 speed in the forty: evolution.
The Cover Two defense to the Tampa Two defense: evolution.
The West Coast Offense to the Vikings offense: well, it sure as heck isn’t Intelligent Design!

Are you ready for some …foolishness?

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Monday Night Football returns to the New Orleans for the Superdome’s first appearance in primetime since Hurricane Katrina. You can expect a lot of talk about this being a symbolic victory for the city, and a lot of references to the things that occurred in the Dome in the days after the hurricane passed and the levees gave way. I think it will be interesting to see how many references will reflect the common perception of horrors that occurred versus the reality.

Will we hear about the supposed murders, rapes, atrocities and bodies stacked up in the facility’s freezer, presented as common knowledge, or will we hear about how outrageously the media hyped what they couldn’t see and couldn’t bother to verify yet presented as breathless fact? In case you’re scoring at home, here are some excerpts and interesting links (emphasis mine).

The LA Times: Rumors supplanted accurate information and media magnified the problem. Rapes, violence and estimates of the dead were wrong.

… Nagin and Police Chief Eddie Compass appeared on “Oprah” a few days after trouble at the Superdome had peaked.

Compass told of “the little babies getting raped” at the Superdome. And Nagin made his claim about hooligans raping and killing.

State officials this week said their counts of the dead at the city’s two largest evacuation points fell far short of early rumors and news reports. Ten bodies were recovered from the Superdome and four from the Convention Center, said Bob Johannessen, spokesman for the Louisiana Department of Health and Hospitals.

(National Guard officials put the body count at the Superdome at six, saying the other four bodies came from the area around the stadium.)

Of the 841 recorded hurricane-related deaths in Louisiana, four are identified as gunshot victims, Johannessen said. One victim was found in the Superdome but was believed to have been brought there, and one was found at the Convention Center, he added …

From Real Clear Politics, “What the Media Missed” (for one thing, no babies raped, but seven delivered!):

… Do you remember the dramatic TV footage of National Guard helicopters landing at the Superdome as soon as Katrina passed, dropping off tens of thousands saved from certain death? The corpsmen running with stretchers, in an echo of M*A*S*H, carrying the survivors to ambulances and the medical center? About how the operation, which also included the Coast Guard, regular military units, and local first responders, continued for more than a week?

Me neither. Except that it did happen, and got at best an occasional, parenthetical mention in the national media. The National Guard had its headquarters for Katrina, not just a few peacekeeping troops, in what the media portrayed as the pit of Hell. Hell was one of the safest places to be in New Orleans, smelly as it was. The situation was always under control, not surprisingly because the people in control were always there.

From the Dome, the Louisiana Guard’s main command ran at least 2,500 troops who rode out the storm inside the city, a dozen emergency shelters, 200-plus boats, dozens of high-water vehicles, 150 helicopters, and a triage and medical center that handled up to 5,000 patients (and delivered 7 babies). The Guard command headquarters also coordinated efforts of the police, firefighters and scores of volunteers after the storm knocked out local radio, as well as other regular military and other state Guard units.

Jack Harrison, a spokesman for the National Guard Bureau in Arlington, Virginia, cited “10,244 sorties flown, 88,181 passengers moved, 18,834 cargo tons hauled, 17,411 saves” by air. Unlike the politicians, they had a working chain of command that commandeered more relief aid from other Guard units outside the state. From day one.

There were problems, true: FEMA melted down. Political leaders, from the Mayor to Governor to the White House, showed “A Failure of Initiative”, as a recent House report put it. That report, along with sharply critical studies by the White House and the Senate, delve into the myriad of breakdowns, shortages and miscommunications that hampered relief efforts.

Still, by focusing on the part of the glass that was half-empty, the national media imposed a near total blackout on the nerve center of what may have been the largest, most successful aerial search and rescue operation in history…

Pencils ready? Hit it, Hank!

Forever Autumn

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The summer sun is fading as the year grows old
And darker days are drawing near…*

Autumn has always been my favorite season. I don’t know when I first decided that I had a favorite season, but I do remember that the first poem I ever wrote was about Halloween, when I was in second grade, and that my grandfather helped me write it, explaining rhyme and meter to me, and helping me discover the puzzle-solving joy of finding the right descriptive word with the correct number of syllables and euphony to fit the need, kind of like linguistic Sudoku.

I’m pretty sure Autumn was Pawpaw’s favorite time of year. Though he had left the farm nearly 50 years prior, the rhythms hadn’t left his life and he enjoyed harvest time, whether it came from the fields or from his own garden that was always so meticulously nurtured. Sure, there was contentment to be found in winter when he could spend time with his beloved books and browse seed catalogs, and sit snug inside knowing he was completely prepared. Springtime brought anticipation and the satisfaction of turning the earth and staking out the future, and summer brought the good, hard work and the challenge of simultaneously working with and against nature to raise and defend his crop as the tomatoes, turnips and radishes overflowed their bins. But it was fall where he reaped the abundance of the season in all its colors, its smells and its sensations. It is the fall that I always seem to remember with him.

Through autumn’s golden gown we used to kick our way
You always loved this time of year.

Aside from my grandfather’s garden there was always a bumper crop of leaves in his yard as oak, maple, walnut, buckeye and birch shook off another year and prepared to sleep. We would work the rakes, or I’d try to push the big canvas lawn-sweeper across the yard with my stubby legs. He’d talk about the smell of the moist earth, and I’d listen to him and to the whisk of the rake, the shoosh of the brush and the shuffle and crush of the leaves as they jumped and tumbled before us into the huge, promising piles so perfect for my jumping and burrowing. And then, the best part, the burning. It was a wistful pleasure, as so many pleasures are; so much had been accomplished which had to, in turn, go away. The piles of leaves were curled and dry though still streaked through with glory, touched with the orange flame and the first wisps of gray smoke and then that wonderful, distinctive aroma. I loved the smell of it on my clothes, in my corduroy cap, the taste that lingered in my mouth, the taste that was so strangely complementary when we’d go inside for rye bread, braunschweiger and cheese, all smeared with sharp mustard.

Later in my life I’d add the memories of the smells of a leather football and of textbooks old and new; the sounds of pads crashing and school buses idling, and the bright yellow, autumnal, flash of new pencils. These were all spells woven around me that still have the power to take me back to those long-ago days, but there is no more powerful talisman for taking me back to my memories of my grandfather than for me to see a black walnut or the pungent, green husk it came out of, or the smooth, chocolatey surface of a buckeye. These happen every year, and every year I go back in time and into my grandfather’s presence. And every year I go somewhere and hear Justin Hayward sing “Forever Autumn” and it somehow pulls all those memories into a bittersweet ball in my center …

I watch the birds fly south across the autumn sky
And one by one they disappear.
I wish that I was flying with them …

as the signature line from the song rakes my heart:

Now you’re not here…

* Justin Hayward, “Forever Autumn”, from Jeff Wayne’s Musical Version of The War of the Worlds.

Everybody SHOUT!

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by Minfidel

The Minfidel is now back from hiatus, if that’s what you call being locked in a trunk for over a year. Anyway, I’ve been trying to get caught up on current events, and it’s nice to see that nothing’s really changed. The big news this week is that a bunch of murdering jihadists have been murdering – or threatening to murder – people because someone called them, well, a bunch of murdering jihadists. This all sounded strangely familiar; I know I’ve seen this somewhere before. I’ve got it! It was a scene from one of my all-time favorite movies, “Animal Mosque.”

Pope Wormer: Greg, what is the worst religious sect in this world?

Cardinal Greg Marmalard: Well that would be hard to say, sir. They’re each outstanding in their own way.

Pope Wormer: Cut the horse***, son. I’ve got their disciplinary files right here. Who dropped a whole truckload of fizzies into the swim meet? Who delivered the medical school cadavers to the alumni dinner? Every Halloween, the trees are filled with underwear. Every spring, the toilets explode.

Cardinal Marmalard: You’re talking about radical islamofascists, sir.

Pope Wormer: Of course I’m talking about radical islamofascists, you TWERP!

Later…inside Animal Mosque:

Al D-Day: War’s over, man. Wormer’s dropped the big one.

bin-Bluto: Over? Did you say “over”? Nothing is over until we decide it is! Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor? Hell no!

Saddam Otter: Germans?

bin-Boon: Forget it, he’s rolling.

bin-Bluto: And it ain’t over now. ‘Cause when the goin’ gets tough… [thinks hard] … the tough get goin’! Who’s with me? Let’s go! [runs out, alone; then returns]

bin-Bluto: What happened to the jihadis I used to know? Where’s the spirit? Where’s the guts, huh? “Ooh, we’re afraid to go with you bin-Bluto, we might get in trouble.” Well just kiss my *** from now on! Not me! I’m not gonna take this. Wormer, he’s a dead man! Marmalard, dead! Niedermeyer…

Saddam Otter: Dead! bin-Bluto’s right. Psychotic, but absolutely right. We gotta take these bastards. Now we could do it with conventional weapons but that could take years and cost millions of lives. No, I think we have to go all out. I think that this situation absolutely requires a really futile and stupid gesture be done on somebody’s part.

bin-Bluto: We’re just the guys to do it.

Al D-Day: Let’s do it.

bin-Bluto: LET’S DO IT!

Hold the pickle, hold the lettuce — hold your fire!

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Angry drive-thru customer opens fire, wounding manager
A Brooklyn Park man was arrested today after he argued with a Wendy’s drive-through clerk about prices after midnight and returned minutes later to fire shots into the pickup window, slightly wounding a manager, police said.

I saw the above headline while browsing the StarTribune’s site today, and with a hook like that I just had to read the story to find out more about “Drive-through Rage.” All in all it wasn’t a shocking tale; kind of run-of-the mill. Maybe it was one of those deals where the guy in the car and the manager behind the drive-through window argued, things got out of hand, the manager suggested the customer was a psycho nut-job, the driver was offended and just to show the manager how wrong she was, he went and got a gun and acted like a psycho nut-job. There’s a lot of that going around these days, you know.

Anyway, I was going to move on when I saw two interesting headlines juxtapositioned beside the drive-through article, one above the other. The first headline read, “New York had lowest crime rate of nation’s 10 largest cities in 2005, FBI says”. The one below it said, “Violent crime up in Minneapolis.” Well, that was intriguing, so I clicked on the New York story first.

NEW YORK — New York remained the safest of the nation’s 10 largest cities in 2005, with about one crime reported for every 37 people, according to FBI statistics…

…The national figures showed that violent crime rose 2.3 percent last year, the first increase since 2001. But in New York City, violent crimes — which include murder, rape, robbery and aggravated assault — fell 1.9 percent.

Well, crime is decreasing in New York, but up slightly around the country. That must explain the increase in crime in Minneapolis alluded to in the other headline, right? I clicked on the Minneapolis story.

Minneapolis’ violent crime rate continues to outpace that of 2005, but authorities said Monday that a recent crackdown on juvenile crime is slowing the increase.

The violent crime rate from January to Sept. 11, 2006, was 25.8 percent higher than the same period last year, according to Minneapolis police. That includes murder, robbery, aggravated assaults and rape. The increase from 2005 was as high as 60 percent in January and stayed above 30 percent for most of the year.

Wow, a 25.8 percent increase — and that was comparing 2006 thus far to 2005 statistics — and the police say it could be 60 percent if they weren’t doing such a good job! Does this suggest Minneapolis is more dangerous than New York? Quiet, midwestern, progressive Minneapolis, compared to gritty, hustling New York, the city that never sleeps because you’ll get your shoes stolen if you do? Certainly there’s got to be some difference in scale, right? Even if the Minneapolis crime rate jumps up it’s still got to be smaller, per capita, than New York, right?

I went back to the New York story to see where those statistics came from. Turns out the source was the FBI, which releases an annual crime survey listing crime rates state-by-state and community-by-community. There wasn’t a link in the story, so I found my own way over to the fbi.gov site. It wasn’t hard to find the report and the statistics from New York and I even did the math myself to be sure I was looking at the same report that generated the one crime for every 37 people statistic. Yep, the New York numbers came out right. There were 8,115,690 people living there in 2005, and a total of 53,623 violent crimes reported and 162,509 property crimes. Add the crimes together, divide them into the population, and that’s what you get.

So what do the Minneapolis numbers say? Hmmmm, 5,472 violent crimes, 22,417 property crimes. That doesn’t seem too bad compared to the Big Rotten Apple. Let’s see, population 376,277 divided by 27,899 equals….one crime reported for every 13.5 people! That’s nearly the same as Dallas (one crime for every 12 people), the 10th largest city in the nation! (For what it’s worth, the numbers for St. Paul come out as 278,692 population, 2,442 violent crimes and 13,693 property crimes reported, or one crime for every 17.2 people).

Again, the FBI numbers are from 2005, and the numbers from the Strib article about violent crime in Minneapolis describe an increase in 2006 over 2005.

Hmmm, I wonder if there’s a connection between crimes in drive-throughs and Hennepin County’s “drive-through” justice system?

Challenging Word of the Week: verjuice

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Verjuice
(VUR joos) noun

Verjuice, literally, is the sour juice of unripe fruits, especially crabapples and grapes. Figuratively, verjuice is sourness of temperament, disposition, or expression. It is the hallmark of a curmudgeon, itself an interesting word, generally described in dictionaries as of unknown origin though Samuel Johnson (the English lexicographer, 1709-1784) says in his Dictionary: “It is a vitious [the old spelling, based on Latin vitiosus] manner of pronouncing coeur méchant [ French for wicked heart ]. . .”

My example: Grapes of wrath make for vintage verjuice, don’t they, Mr. Reid?

From the book, “1000 Most Challenging Words” by Norman W. Schur, ©1987 by the Ballantine Reference Library, Random House. I post a weekly “Challenging Words” definition to call more attention to this delightful book and to promote interesting word usage in the blogosphere. I challenge other bloggers to work the current word into a post sometime in the coming week. If you manage to do so, please leave a comment or a link to where I can find it. Previous words in this series can be found under the appropriate Category heading in the right-hand sidebar.

Remember, that’s MISTER Lunt…

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I’m about to take off to go up north for the weekend with my cheesebur-, I mean, my wife for a golfing getaway and to “veg out.” No writing today, but here’s one of those fun little quizzes. Actually, I don’t think veggies can be bloggers; no bellybuttons to gaze into, you know.


What Veggie Tales character are you?


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There’s no such thing as “single-payer” health insurance

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If you think healthcare is expensive now, just wait until it is free.
— P.J. O’Rourke

That quote appears in my blog header this week because I’ve been keeping an eye on the Single-Payer Health Bill passed a couple of weeks ago by the California legislature and forwarded to Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger. The Terminator vetoed the bill yesterday but, like his namesake, you can expect that “it will be back.”

The bill would have outlawed all private health insurance in California in favor of a state-run, single-payer system that essentially mirrors the socialized programs of countries such as Canada and Great Britain (two links) and, in the words of Gov. Schwarzenegger, “would require an extraordinary redirection of public and private funding by creating a vast new bureaucracy to take over health insurance and medical care for Californians — a serious and expensive mistake.”

Proponents of the bill say it would actually save the state $8 billion a year in administrative costs, while private health insurance interests released a report that shows that that amount is overstated by $3.5 to $5 billion and that these administrative functions are the industry’s primary defense against fraud and abuse. The private insurers are naturally going to respond strongly to these claims, but even their counter-argument suggests that there may still be as much as $3 billion in administrative costs that could be attacked. Nevertheless, the idea that a state-run bureaucracy with no competive pressure will do a better job of ferreting out abuse and redundancies is counter-intuitive, just as the idea of a “single-payer” is a misnomer since the costs are ultimately extracted from all California tax-payers.

Both sides can readily marshall all kinds of statistics and sound-bites to support their positions. If we only had these to go by, it could be a challenge to try to peer into the future to see what the ultimate impact might be. Fortunately, we don’t have to go by expert opinion or suppositions, we can see the results and unintended consequences such as poor quality care, long waiting lists for necessary surgery and an ever-expanding bureaucracy. The problems in Canada – extolled by some for its artificially reduced drug prices – have become so severe that the New York Times recently reported that an average of one private (and therefore illegal) health clinic per week is opening in our socialized neighbor to the north. The clinics are opening in response to demand from citizens willing to pay out of their own pockets to get needed surgery to improve the quality of their lives. As the head of one of these new clinics stated, “This is a country where a dog can get a hip replacement in under a week and in which a human can wait two or three years.”

I’ve written before (such as in the links in the third paragraph above) that this situation ultimately leads to the government making decisions on who should live and die by rationing or even denying care based on its assessment of costs and quality-of-life issues. There’s also evidence, however, that this isn’t the only way socialized medicine can kill you. Amy Ridenour recently noted that “under socialized medicine, public officials administer a single budget and usually ration care among a population whose sole choice is to take whatever therapies the state monopoly provides” and that “politically driven health care jeopardizes patients’ lives,” citing:

  • Breast cancer is fatal to 25 percent of its American victims. In Great Britain and New Zealand, both socialized-medicine havens, breast cancer kills 46 percent of women it strikes.
  • Prostate cancer proves fatal to 19 percent of its American sufferers. In single-payer Canada, the National Center for Policy Analysis reports, this ailment kills 25 percent of such men and eradicates 57 percent of their British counterparts.
  • After major surgery, a 2003 British study found, 2.5 percent of American patients died in the hospital versus nearly 10 percent of similar Britons. Seriously ill U.S. hospital patients die at one-seventh the pace of those in the U.K.
  • “In usual circumstances, people over age 75 should not be accepted” for treatment of end-state renal failure, according to New Zealand’s official guidelines. Unfortunately, for older Kiwis, government controls kidney dialysis.
  • According to a Populus survey, 98 percent of Britons want to reduce the time between diagnosis and treatment.
  • Emily Morely, 57, of Meath Park, Saskatchewan, discovered that cancer had invaded her liver, lungs, pancreas and spine. She also learned she had to wait at least three months to see an oncologist. In Canada, where private medicine is illegal, this could have meant death. However, Mrs. Morely saw a doctor after one month — once her children alerted Canada’s legislature and mounted an international publicity campaign.
  • James Tyndale, 54, of Cambridge, England, wanted Velcade to stop his bone-marrow cancer. However, the government’s so-called “postcode lottery” supplied this drug to some cities, but not Cambridge. The British health service finally relented after complaints from the Tories’ shadow health secretary, MP Andrew Lansley.
  • Edward Atkinson, 75, of Norfolk, England, was deleted from a government hospital’s hip-replacement-surgery waiting list after he mailed graphic anti-abortion literature to hospital employees. “We exercised our right to decline treatment to him for anything other than life-threatening conditions,” said administrator Ruth May. She claimed her employees objected to Mr. Atkinson’s materials. Despite a member of Parliament’s pleas, Mr. Atkinson still awaits surgery.

Wouldn’t you just love it if your government decided you were too old — or too politically incorrect — to receive life-saving or life-enhancing care?

Update:

My mistake: the bill that Gov. Schwarzenegger vetoed yesterday was a “Wal-Mart” bill similar to the one vetoed by Chicago Mayor Daly earlier this week. Arnold has not officially vetoed the single-payer bill yet, but has written a published op-ed piece in the San Diego Union-Tribune where he stated that he would veto it. He has until September 30 to terminate it.

Some things I would like to “kick-off”

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With one afternoon and three nights of football between Thursday and Monday, and a double-header game on Monday as well, I saw quite a bit of football this past weekend. I saw some great plays, some bad plays — and several things on tv that really got on my nerves. If this keeps up, it’s going to be a long season.

NBC sideline reporter Andrea Kremer: Actually, I like Andrea myself, but someone has got to find out what her makeup stylist has against her. When she was on Thursday night’s game I nearly laughed outloud when I first saw her, but I figured it was just a bad night on somebody’s part. When she showed up looking exactly the same on Sunday night I started to worry. I’m talking hair like a shaved poodle, eyes that looked like they came out of a Mrs. Potato-head kit. And the Mall Diva says your blazer doesn’t have to be the same shade and color as your microphone cover. The way her head seemed to float there I thought somebody had replaced her with a bobblehead. Andrea, you’re smart, you’re sharp, you deserve better. Somebody’s out to get you and you need to find out who it is, fast.

Coors Light cold pack commercials: Okay, I’ve sat in advertising creative brainstorming sessions many times, and this series of commercials strikes me as something that would have been funny the first time for about 30 seconds and then the group would naturally move on to better ideas. How these faux post-game interviews — using clips from real coaches insterspersed with doofuses asking fawning questions about the “product” that oh-so-cleverly “match” what the coach really said — ever got made is beyond me. And by the way, isn’t putting the words “Coors” and “Light” together redundant? The only thing this commercial has going for it is that it didn’t resort to using boobs to sell beer — although based on the guys in the commercial, maybe they did.

Fox’s “vroop” noise: I was watching the Packers-Bears game and I kept hearing this strange electronic farting noise just after each play got underway. At first I was, like, “what the heck was that?” After about 20 minutes, I was saying, “what the HELL is that?” I couldn’t figure out what action the stupid sound was related to, though it obviously was meant to call my attention to something, right? Finally, after taking my eyes off the game for several plays, I discovered that it was a little tab at the top of the screen with down and distance information that would “vroop” as it disappeared. Ok, what is the point of calling my attention to something as it’s going away?

Monday Night Schmoozing: Why does the Monday Night Football production try to turn a football game into the Merv Griffin Show? It was bad enough during the pre-season when they had endless, inane sideline interviews that carried on while several plays went by in the background, but at least then you were only missing sloppy pre-season football by a bunch of guys who weren’t going to make the teams anyway. Last night, however, you’ve got your local team caught up in a tense battle with one of the NFC powers and we’re treated to 15 minutes of the camera focusing on Jamie Foxx and the broadcast team stroking each other — while the game goes on in the background ! Don’t make me turn on my radio!

Big name musical openings: Ok, the very first time Hank Williams, Jr. came out and bawled, “Are you ready for some football?” it was kind of cool, and fit the mood. That was 15 years ago, people. The bloom is off the rose, the gild is off the lily, the skin is off the pig. We already get the Star-Spangled Banner before every game, we don’t need you continuing to run this schtick into the ground, no matter how many stars you add to the band. Bocephus, really, playing fat, drunk and stupid might be a good living, but it’s no way to go through life. Stretch yourself, boy, do some Masterpiece Theatre or something. The worst of it is that now you’re not just copying yourself, you’ve got the other networks doing it too. Yo, NBC, just because you’ve been out of football for a long time it doesn’t mean going back in time makes something original. Having Pink come out for 3 minutes of unintelligble warbling while she trys to keep from falling out of her dress does not enhance my anticipation for the game. Look, I love football. I want to watch football. Football is a great game. It has large men crashing into each other at high speeds. If you like that kind of thing, you’re going to tune in and watch regardless. If you don’t like that kind of thing, a cameo appearance by some tarted-up chanteuse isn’t going to suck you in. Get on with the game!

Wow, so much negativity. There was one thing I really liked, however. It was the commercial with all the pro football players, ex-players and ex-coaches cast as high school football players while the dead, solid, perfect “Spirit in the Sky” song played in the background. I loved that every time it came on. I don’t know what they were advertising exactly, but I loved the commercial.