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Football Fans…

There are two main types…

The Vox Day type, and the Bane type. I admire the Vox Day type way more, and lift my horn to God and Odin that I am not one. WAYYY too much work.

Go to Mr Day’s blog, hit CTRL+F, and do a search for ‘football’, and you will see a young man at the pinnacle of his game, a veritable walking encyclopaedia of Obsessive Compulsive Football Disorder (OCFD). Pay close attention to his discussion of Football video game play…

I got a free copy of NFL 2K3 when I bought my Playstation 2 last year. I opened it and plugged it in, ready to play…I Love Football! Then I opened the manual. This crap looks too much like work. I play games for relaxation, not frustration. I have yet to get back to that game, and I feel like my soul is stained because of it.

On a football related note, I just want to see the Patriots in the Super Bowl, playing whoever can damage and humiliate them the most, and snatch victory from them in the last few seconds…at this moment it looke like the Colts will be providing that service…woopsie! Edgerin James just scored on the KC’s lame-ass defense. Peyton? Destroy the Patriots, and I may stop calling you a flat-faced homo every time you take your helmet off, you pug-nosed lantern-jawed moon-faced creep.

If you read my blog regularly, you will have noted that I am a fan of The Glorious Raiders. I stopped being one when they left Oakland, but they have rectified that, so I have returned to my first love. I do not mention them lately, and we will not discuss why.
I was a Cowboys fan since the beginning…Craig Morton is my cousin. I loved Dallas up until Landry left. I flirted with Bronco love for awhile while Morton was there, but the Broncos are not even worthy of my spit. Oh how I hate John Elway to this day. And the Bucs? With the traitor coach who shall not be named? I actively root for an act of terrorism to occur in whatever venue they play in that does not include my Glorious Raiders. If you do not secretly wish to see the quarterback of your most hated team drop from a well-placed rifle shot through the ear-holes when he has your team down by 20 at the half, you are not a football fan.

No, the Vox Day Football Fan knows all of the stats and figures, the numbers of even the third string punter, and knows in their bones the names of plays and who has which numerals on their jerseys and the names of the venues in which various teams are playing for the entire season.

The Bane Football Fan knows where the last Michelob Ultra is in the fridge…behind the sour cream in the back bottom left above the crisper. The BFF knows instinctively how long to microwave the pizza rolls to just where they are about to burst, but not quite, and knows that baking them in the oven is better if you have time or can get your wife to do it.
The BFF knows that he loves whatsisname, you know, the quarterback for the Glorious Raiders, but in a manly way that would only allow us to pat one another on our butts. The BFF is terribly sad that Dan Rostinkowski, the finest Linebacker in Raider history next to Howie Long is gone with a concussion, perhaps forever.

The BFF knows that the Packers are about to play…uh, somebody, and Brian Favre kicks ass, and the BFF’s wife is downstairs making chimichangas, and all is right with the world. And Coors ads kick ass and makes the BFF wish to touch himself in a way he doesn’t like or understand…

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