This Sunday is the biggest single day of the year in sports: No, I’m not talking about the Fresno Kennel Club Annual Dog Show taking place this coming Sunday – although granted, that is a very big sporting event. No, I’m talking about this Sunday’s Super Bowl between the Baltimore Ravens and the San Francisco 49ers. I believe it’s Super Bowl MCLXXXVIIIVX, but I could be off by a couple I’s.
This week I am donning my wife’s BBQ apron to share my secrets to throwing a winning Super Bowl party. A Super Bowl party is a great opportunity for men to bond with their buddies over the world’s greatest spectator sport (after female mud wrestling) and for the ladies to bond with other wives in the kitchen while checking on the status of our Meat Lovers’ pizza and replenishing our salsa dip – I noticed it’s getting a bit low, honey.
Fellows, when hosting a Super Bowl party, there are three parts to consider: preparations BEFOREHAND, what to do DURING the party, and finally, clean-up activities AFTER the party. Of course, most of you guys can skip Parts I and III, as those parts can easily be handled by your wife. Just put her in charge of the food and stay out of her way. She loves being in charge of something.
[Tim Jones, noted humor writer and the driving force behind the humor blog View from the Bleachers, in a shocking press conference, admits to using banned performance-enhancing substances to help him write his column. Below are excerpts from that press conference.]
“This is not easy for me to admit. But the time has come for me to finally come clean. Rumors have been swirling about my behavior in recent months. And I simply could not live a lie any longer. For the first time anywhere, I need to make a public confession to all eleven of my readers:
For years I have been using banned performance-enhancing substances to help me produce my blog. And in the process, I’ve repeatedly lied to my readers, friends and family.
About the time people started wondering about Lance Armstrong, insiders started suspecting that I too might be using performance-enhancing substances to give me a competitive edge. They started noticing that my blog posts were getting increasingly unhinged. When I claimed in one post that I was a direct descendant of Jesus, it raised a lot of eyebrows. When I later wrote that I was contemplating switching my vote to Romney, my close friends and family members became deeply concerned about my mental state. But it was when I finally presented in one recent post my solution to America’s gun problem – arming every American with bullet-proof vests – that authorities could tell I had gone completely off the rails.
A small minority of Americans (estimated to be less than 87%) were shocked by recent remarks by Wayne LaPierre, CEO of the National Rifle Association, the world’s largest gun rights lobbying organization.
In his remarks LaPierre argued forcefully that the problem is not that there are too many guns in America. The problem is that there are not enough of them. Putting the blame for youth violence squarely where it belongs, LaPierre argued that the problem is not that deadly weapons are almost as easy to buy as toothpaste. No, he argued, youth violence is caused by all the violence kids are exposed to in video games and movies like Toy Story 3.
The NRA’s solution? Place armed guards at every school, and arm every principal. Let every teacher pack heat. The fact that this is estimated to net over $150 million in additional domestic gun sale revenues for NRA-member gun dealers is sheer coincidence.
… is never to make any, of course.
It’s January – a new year and another chance to wipe the slate clean and press the RESET button on all those failed commitments from the previous year. Every year, I revisit my New Year’s Resolutions from the previous year, not so much to analyze how many of them I kept, because of course I kept NONE of them. Rather, I look back to chronicle how many weeks it took before I had completely bailed out on my very last resolution.
Usually that date is around January 16th. But then there was that one exceptional year – 2004. I made it all the way through February before completely giving up on all my resolutions, goals and dreams.
In looking back over my past New Year’s Resolutions, I’ve noticed an unsettling trend. Over time, the goals I set kept getting more and more ambitious. Meanwhile my results have hit a bit of a plateau… then slowly slipped off the edge of that plateau…. into the deep, dark, cavernous ravine of best intentions gone miserably awry. So this year, I have decided to set more reasonable goals in order to feel a sense of accomplishment. Let me explain with a few examples.
You might think living in America’s friendliest town must be a fairy tale. Au contraire. It’s a living Hell. Forbes Magazine just came out with its ranking of the Friendliest Towns in America. Coming in at the #1 spot on their list? Sammamish, Washington, (true) my town for the past 22 years.
Sammamish beat out fierce rivals like Westerville, Ohio, Fishers, Indiana, Lake Wobegon, Hooterville, and the Merry Old Land of Oz for top honors. Forbes’s study ranked towns based on criteria such as crime rate, level of charitable giving, level of civic engagement, and the size of the check the town was willing to pay to Forbes Magazine to get listed as one of America’s friendliest towns.
Sammamish, a nice town of roughly 47,000 nice people, is nestled in the nice foothills of the Cascade Mountains – a convenient 20 minutes east of Seattle (or 2 hours and 40 minutes during rush hour). Thanks to its close proximity to Microsoft, Sammamish is an upscale community with low unemployment (5%), low crime (90% below the national average) and the nation’s highest level of double tall mocha addicts (97%).
Don’t get me wrong. The people of Sammamish are some of the nicest people you’ll ever want to meet. And that’s exactly the problem. They are really nice. Annoyingly, obnoxiously nice. By comparison, Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood looks like the set of Real Housewives of New Jersey.