It’s February 1st today and all football fans know what that means. The most useless month of the year has arrived.
Tomorrow, somewhere in New Hampshire or Maine or one of those hoity-toit states up there in the northeast corner of the country, local idiots will actually watch some ugly ass groundhog pop out of his hole and either cast a shadow or not. Hey dolts, if the sun’s visible, there will be a shadow. Otherwise, there won’t. You don’t need a groundhog to figure this out.
I know it’s all for fun, at least we hope it is, but seriously, who thought up such a dildo event in the first place. The Puritans, no doubt. They couldn’t look at each other with lust in their hearts, under penalty of death, but ogling a naked rodent was A-OK.
Speaking of naked rodents, there are over 5,000 press credentials handed out for this week’s Super Bowl coverage. The annual competition for which reporter will ask the dumbest question will now commence in earnest.
After the game, many football fans will abandon the sport and the blogosphere until sometime near the draft. Those who remain in blogland will have nothing to discuss except each other, which they will do with a vengeance. If you like nasty, catty shit, this is your month to log into the Chronicle’s Insider and amaze yourself with the decadent level of perverse, subliminal existence that is loitering around out there somehow eluding the straight jacket boys.
In a normal 49er year, the blogs would rage all month about how stupid the Yorks are and how incompetent the Niner head coach is. Jed York’s hiring of Jim Harbaugh as HC has pretty much killed off these topics for this year, meaning the cannibalism factor will be more pronounced than ever.
The Chronicle Insider is the blog that most blogophiles, myself included, got their introduction into cyberspace blather. When the Insider began, commenters there actually discussed football. Within a year or so, as anonymous personalities rubbed each other raw, that site deteriorated into a pissing match zone and the quality of urination has steadily declined with each passing year. People who make football comments there seem like alien broadcasters inadvertently intersecting that particular bandwidth.
At any rate, we will attempt to stick with football here, even through the dark days ahead. The expiring CBA contract will soon take center stage, an event dreaded since last summer, and these posturing fools will strut in front of the cameras all month making hideous comments of doom. The pictures I have seen of DeMaurice Smith do not look promising. This fellow is a sour looking gent. Roger Goodell does not look sour, but he smells that way. We will monitor these goof balls, but not take them seriously. No matter what they say, a new deal will be signed at 11:59pm on March 2nd.
Until then, we have one last week of football. It is imperative that the football gods punish Ben Roethlisberger for being a loathsome creep. These gods took care of Tom Brady and Bill Belichick, but good. I am going to trust them to do their job this Sunday.