I'm not much of a football fan, but I have often watched the Super Bowl, and seen a few of the magnificent cliff hangers. My late wife watched one of them with me when the game was won by a player who reached across the goal line to touch the ground with the ball. She thought they were always that dramatic. As a widower, I had a big orange male cat who looked like a cougar who was a sort of fraternity brother to me; he liked to watch sports on TV, so I watched more than usual. He'd stay around until the trophies were presented and the speeches were over. If I watch this year, I'll be pulling for Cincinnati, with fond memories of the place, and smoking something like Barbary Coast and maybe sipping Makers Mark on the rocks. Or I won't. My wife might watch if they have the Budweiser Clydesdales, since she's from Missouri too. I won't watch the half-time show. The commercialism and overwrought fireworks and antsy over-hyped production with stars I do not know is all just too demoralizing. Time for a bathroom brake and a snack in a different room.
