Alright, who is to blame? Isn't that always the question? Who do we blame.
There is the narcissist from Mississippi. There is the lazy media.
And then there is us.
What a twist, right? It got all Twilight Zone up in here. Didn't see it coming, did you? Yeah, you didn't see it coming.
But we are the ones to blame. I'm going to meander to that point in about 500 words or so, though. I tend to get "wordy." Feel free to go YouTube some Seinfeld clips.
Back to the meandering. Let us first consider one Brett Favre.
Nay, let us first consider Steve Young.
Steve Young was forced out of football because of injuries, mainly concussions. If he took one more hit his cerebrum was going to decay into a jelly mush. He would've played longer, and wanted to play longer, but he couldn't.
Currently, he is one of but a handful of television football analysts who can form an articulate sentence without the aid of a teleprompter. Also, Young can read a teleprompter.
Brett Favre can't go three words without throwing in a "ya know," just like a Playboy bunny. He thinks Wranglers are comfortable jeans and quitting pain killers is a good idea.
Am I saying Brett Favre is dumb? Yes, yes I am, ya know.
Not only is Brett Favre not smart, but he was playing professional football before we knew how depraved Bill Clinton's sex addiction was.
I'll be here all week, and don't forget to tip your waitress.
Anyway, add the God complex that any human being would have contracted from being "Brett Favre in Green Bay," and that he is a guy who enjoys fart jokes a little too much.
Put simply, Brett Favre's words just shouldn't hold much weight.
He's a dumb, punch-drunk jock who just wants to keep playing, but is just smart enough to know he probably shouldn't. This is nothing new.
It says something that he'd be a vast improvement over the current crop of Vikings quarterbacks.
The Media—which I heard has eight legs, 13 tentacles, five heads, and the only copy of the Erin Andrews tape—has always deserved more blame for the annual Favre summer fiasco.
Stop talking about him. Stop putting a camera and a microphone in his face, and forcing him to respond to every rumor. Stop following his wife to the supermarket and giving dissertations about how her choice of Tombstone pizza over DiGiorno's means he's coming back. Stop reporting hearsay, gossip, conjecture, and anything Ed Werder says.
But here is where the problem starts.
Corporate media cares about two things: ad revenue, and the first thing I said. And ad revenue is determined by ratings, webpage views, magazine sales, etc.; and all of that comes from us.
Ratings, webpage views, etc. are closely monitored and Brett Favre stories obviously get the most eyeballs. They wouldn't talk about him as much if more people were listening to stories about Maurice Jones-Drew.
So we're the problem.
Told you I'd meander to a point.
We need to go watch some baseball. Go spend time with the family. Go find a copy of the Erin Andrews tape that isn't a trojan horse virus. Live a little.
Obviously, I'm joking; who wants to spend time with their family or bother worrying about a computer virus. I'm only trying to say we need to stop paying attention to the story.
If there even is a story anymore.
Here's the situation which we should all be able to agree on: Favre wants to keep playing, he is a five-year-old blonde beauty contestant in a 40-year-old man's body, he wants to play in Minnesota, Minnesota wants him to play there because (sadly) he would be the best quarterback on their roster, but everyone is waiting to see how his arm is feeling at the end of July.
Simple. See what I did there? And this has seemed pretty obvious for awhile now, Trey Wingo.
Anyone can read the tea leaves here.
And we should all know that given Favre's "Heck, no one else has walked on water, but if I try hard..." ways, his arm will probably feel good enough. And if it doesn't, at least he was honest about it.
Granted, Tarvaris or Sage would certainly have an interesting season ahead. And if interviews of Aaron Rodgers are any indication, an interesting couple of seasons.
But we can wait for a little bit—hopefully until the end of July—before talking about him, how many interceptions he'll throw, and how he'll still help Adrian Peterson.
Or talking about what a terrible offseason ordeal the Favre dance must've been on whichever Vikings QB wins the job.
For now we don't have to talk about him, or listen to the media talk about him, or talk about how much the media talks about him, talk about how talking about him is so annoying to talk about, or how the media talking about him so much is so annoying.
Ironic to have that last sentence in an article talking about Brett Favre, isn't it?
The whole thing is a joke, though. And not even a good joke.
You should have just YouTubed some Seinfeld clips.