The Boob just spent 20 days in the desert. Why twenty? Because The Boob doesn’t need forty.
“Is this a mirage?”
During those 20 days, civilization did not exist, the news did not exist, god forbid, sports did not exist. In those 20 days, The Boob missed March Madness, baseball’s Opening Day, and the beginning of the hockey playoffs. So North Carolina won (shocking!), now both the Yankees and Mets suck (sweet!), and in the NHL post-season, some team that shouldn’t be losing probably is. (If someone does know this information, please forward it to someone who actually gives a shit.)
You might ask yourself, “The Boob, why would you subject yourself to such torture, if you were not trying to save mankind?” The Boob’s answer: To save the Boob’s sanity, to continue to bring these kick-ass columns to you the reader.
“The King of Self-Promotion”
For 20 Days, The Boob was without being bombarded by useless ESPN draft coverage. For 20 Days, The Boob went without being subjected to the chickenheads squawking on TNT. For 20 Days, there was peace, so The Boob could to contemplate the deep questions in life: Why do people think Dane Cook is funny? Do those blue little Male Enhancement pills actually work? If our GNP increases over the next 2.5 years and the Federal Interest Rate stays at its current levels, would 205.c of the tax code allow for a major write off for the Boob?
Did the Boob miss anything of importance? Yeah, another year of ONE SHINING MOMENT. (Could they please take that old dog out back and treat it like they’re Michael Vick?) But coming back to all the squawks of the evil Four Letters as the NFL Draft approaches, the Boob has realized that his love for sports is no longer. It’s a love for the games, the competition of men going against men. As for the rest of it, hopefully, a monsoon will come along and clean the fucking slate. Why? It’s no longer about sports. It’s about the package: how its presented and sold to us, the audience. They treat us like idiots, like we’re not fans, like we all fit in a single demographic. And why? One big reason is that ESPN is owned and run by the same people who owns and runs the God-awful “It’s a Small World”.
In the eyes of the networks and the men with the money, the games have become secondary, just another tool to push product, a movie, or just another game. It’s always been about the money, but now it’s blatantly about the money. It’s no longer the way you play the game, but how you promote and sell the game.
It’s not what the Boob loves, it’s what the Boob hates: self-grandizing, self-promoting. The Boob is not about that. The Boob does not respect self-promotion. The Boob is about dignity. The Boob is about humility.
“Yes, this is an actual book.”
So how were the last 20 days of the Boob’s life without sports? Not much different than yours.