Afishionados,

I spent yesterday afternoon with some family members and one weird Wisconsin fan watching the Ohio State game. I am not a football fan and never really have been. I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t know most of the rules. I will also be the first to admit that I also don’t care what the rules are. I am pretty sure that football would still suck, even if I did learn everything.

I’ve watched a lot of football games, but they have never entertained me. Usually it’s a Super Bowl party and I am just there for the free food. I just don’t understand how so many people can be so infatuated with something that is nothing more than homoerotic male bonding + ballet.

First, the uniforms. Must they be so tight? I’m not saying you have to run around in robes and shit, but come on. Nobody likes when a fat woman wears spandex. But it’s okay for a herd of 300 pound men to wear tighter-than-tight pants? And what’s with all the ass tapping? I don’t want to pat a man on the ass, but it seems like a requirement for football. Blatantly placing one’s hand (or any part thereof) upon another man’s butt cheek is a homosexual act. And that’s fine if you’re into that sort of thing.

The game primarily focuses on these huge guys running around, sweating, and hugging each other. That’s pretty much it. And nothing exciting ever happens. Sure, one of the players will grab the “ball” (which it isn’t) and run hundreds of yards to score a touchdown.

He might be a fast runner, yes, but he’s just gotta outrun those huge gargantuan guys who are trying to fondle tackle him. What is so special about that? Even a New Beetle can outrun a Semi. Plus, a lot of those football cheerleaders are really hot. Why not run after them instead? Why chase the fat dude in the tight pants?

The game also takes hundreds of hours to play. Here’s how this is broken down: The whole ballet team huddles to talk about their next move and how awesome everyone is doing with their toe point and dance routine. Then they form a line, which they hope to touch, grab, and hug other members of the opposing ballet squad. A magical clock is started, runs for 30 seconds or so, and then stops. So even though football has four quarters around 15 minutes long, the clock only runs in 30 second increments.

In between these increments, former ballet players talk about their own glory days, what the new dancers are doing wrong, how great the new ballerinas are doing, and who they think is going to win and why based on their dance routines. A great deal of time is also spent nitpicking video replays of everyone, just in case you missed anything that happened within that 30 second window.

And then there is the mystical flag. At the start of the play, someone always fucks up. It doesn’t matter who or what, but it’s inevitable. You will know when someone fucks up because the Hamburglar comes out of nowhere and throws down his all-powerful flag. He then stops the clock, walks onto the field, and does the dumbest mime impersonation that you’ve ever seen. A lot of people can’t pat their head and rub their stomach at the same time, but the Hamburglar does this on a regular basis. And then, of course, because the clock is stopped, the television has to flash over to the middle-aged commentators arguing about who did or did not fuck up and was the Hamburglar’s call valid.

Eventually, one of the dance teams will win and the crowd will go apeshit. Some TV reporter will then find a dancer who made a great play during the game and ask them the same, retarded questions that are always asked:

“Ballet Man, you guys looked tough out there today! Why do you think your team won?”

The correct answer, of course, is this: “Because our team scored more points than the other team.” But the ballet squad is not allowed or is otherwise incapable of simply stating the truth, so they must reply with bullshit.

“Well, TV guy, our opponents really brought it today and they played a great game. Our team has been working hard and we’ve been really focused, and I think we just came together today and really pulled through. We’ve got some great players on our side who have a lot of talent and we have a lot of great coaching, and I think it could be a good year for us.”

At least the Super Bowl has entertaining commercials.

Afishionados,

There are many of you out there bitching about the Cleveland Indians mascot being racist. I’ve even gotten comments about it here on my own blog, but I’ve deleted them and decided to do this post because:

1. The Cleveland Indians are awesome, even if they did lose to the Boston Red Sox. I don’t give a shit what you say.

2. For some of you, your fucking team is goddamn laundry.

3. You are retarded.

Therefore, I’ve made my own goddamn team. Since several of you have bitched, moaned, whined, and cried that there’s an abundance of professional sports teams that are “racist”, I’ve decided to pick on Whitey. That’s right, the crackers are gettin’ their own racist team. Suck it up.

The new team is the Honkies. And we bring our own bats. Don’t come crying to us about racist sports teams, because we’ll just smack you upside your ignorant head. We haven’t settled on a city yet, but are open to suggestions.

There are much bigger and much more important problems in the world than “racist” sports teams, so please do the world a favor and just shut the fuck up.

UPDATE: Due to a request from a faithful Honkies fan, I’ve made a small button you can proudly display on your own blog or website to show your team spirit. It’s a transparent .PNG file, so it should look okay on your web site no matter what color your background is. Enjoy, and Go Honkies!