I don't really get football. I don't understand when my sister gushes about how cute such-and-such a certain quarterback is when there are much better looking guys in the world to look at. I don't understand the feverish attention given to who kicks or carries a ball in a certain way when we could be watching wonderfully kinetic movies or video games, where one either gets to be personally involved in the action, or gets to see it artfully done for a real purpose. I don't understand practically worshiping guys who are grotesquely overpaid for what are essentially tea parties.
But this evening I think I did, at last, get a little taste of what it's like to have something of the "Rah rah, go team!" mentality.
I caught the fever by reading about the Neil Gaiman vs. Todd MacFarlane trial going on.
Naturally, I'm cheering for Gaiman to kick MacFarlane's Canadian ass. And it looks like that's how it's gonna go down baby because Gaiman, unlike MacFarlane, has a little thing known as actual evidence to present. So ha! Fuck you Mr. MacFarlane and your garish hockey-jersey and your action figure lines and crappy movies and television shows! You totally suck!!
If Neil Gaiman had team colours, I swear I'd paint my face with them.