This early evening in Montana, while the Saints and Vikings have fought to a 14-14 tie by halftime, I am enjoying a blissful silence. It's called a "mute." Hey, I can sit in the bleachers and watch a football game without some idiot announcers blaring. Not to mention the commercials blaring between plays. Sheesh: Do I need commercials? Don't think so.
I should like the Vikings to win - I grew up 80 miles west of them in Eau Claire - but in Wisconsin in my youth the Packers floated over the state like the perfect piece of cheese. But then, there's the Viking QB - a cheese-head who in Wisconsin cannot remove his crown of chedder!
But then again, there is New Orleans - if ever a city needed a Superball - or bowl, or something - this city needs it.
So I'm ambivalent, and ready to watch the second half, silently. Always thinking, unable not to, of my "maiden aunt" - people called unmarried middle-age woman that "slur" back in my youth - who once when I was a kid described football as "they huddle, they line up, and they all fall down. Big deal."
Out of the mouths of maiden aunts, perhaps, comes something to think about. Whatever, I'm going down to watch the second half. Silently. Silence is a beautiful thing. Although maybe a little jazz to accompany the football might be cool.
But I thought I'd wait until the end of the game to post this. So I did.
It was a great game. Some team won. Trust me on this.