Slaughtering Sacred Cows

You may notice glazed looks in the eyes of your husband/son/mailman/pharmacist today and wonder what in the hell is wrong with them.

Today :: drum roll :: is the official opening day of College Foosbawl Season.

Don’t get me wrong, I lo-ove college football. If you can’t appreciate a sport played balls-to-the-wall by amateurs – some more amateur than others – then there’s a big, black, spider web-shrouded lump of deadness where your heart should be.

But what I absolutely fail to comprehend is the disturbing lack of shading between “Fan” and “Rabid, Bug-eyed, Merchandise-Sponge.” There is actually a man in town who on the front of his house – his HOUSE - painted, “Alabama Best, Heck With Rest” [sic].

I am sorry, but if neither you nor any member of your family* has ever attended a university yet your entire wardrobe is coordinated in that team’s colors and/or logo, there is some doubt as to the stability of your brain chemistry. And I’m not picking just on Alabama fans, this just happens to be where I was when I noticed the phenomenon.

Notre Dame fans are another chronically offensive group. Someone can live on the West Coast and possibly not even be able to locate South Bend on a map, but because God’s Team is nationally televised every friggin’ week, they are dedicated Irish fanatics. Even if they’re German. And Protestant. It defies logic.

If anybody actually read this blog I’m sure I would get a boatload of hate mail, but since this is my own private Idaho I feel better just for having put it in writing somewhere. :: deep breath ::

*A noteworthy exception is if you actually live in a college town. If you reside in Knoxville it is your civic duty to clad your family in orange and support the reason your municipality is on the map.