To each his or her own, and I’ll gladly abide by that, particularly in regard to the Superbowl. For those who are unfamiliar with this event (which means you don’t live in the U.S. and don’t give a rat’s ass about American sports), this is the final professional football game of the season, pitting the top finishing team in each conference against each other in a commercially orgasmic event.

First, I have to admit that I have absolutely no interest in sports at all. Never have and I doubt I ever will. Watching most sporting events is just about the equivalent to me of watching paint dry. There are elements of strategy that might interest some, but if I want that I might as well watch a chess match, and I don’t care about that either. Otherwise, take away the limited amount of strategy and what you have left is pretty much big men running into each other. Now there’s a thrill, eh?

Other than that, you get to see a bunch of new commercials that are usually a cut above the normal fare. However, sitting through a whole Superbowl game just to see the commercials is kind of like driving fifty miles through a snowstorm so that your kid can sled down a hill for five minutes before complaining he is cold and wants to go home. It’s a damn long trip for very little reward. (I’m open to ideas for a better analogy than that, if you have one.)

Anyways, enjoy yourself if you’ve plunked your ass down in your recliner to watch the game with a bottle of bear in one hand and potato chips in the other. I’m sitting here in front of my computer, which is a hell of a lot more interesting. But that’s just me. Go. Enjoy. Just don’t expect me to care. And please spare me the details. Unless, of course, someone has another major nipple slip at halftime.