- Joined
- Mar 19, 2006
- Messages
- 33,984
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Feel free to help track the misery.
Day 146: The authorities continue to re-play meaningless Rams-Saints games on NFL*N. It has been perhaps the most awesome off-season for a decade, yet the whole world remains a ghost of itself. The authorities continue to refuse to let new football be played. I follow fan spats about what will happen in the future, to no avail. None of it can be known yet. For now we fester in our cells, waiting for the day that foot meets pigskin for real in the 2017-2018 season... if there is a 2017-2018 season.
I watch politics. I play games. On occasion, I write. I try to break up the boredom but the boredom is unending. I know that there are events of great moment afoot: North Korea seems to have ICBMs and H-Bombs. Tens of thousands are dying each year in a prescription opioid epidemic. Yet I cannot shake the feeling that Kim is only bored because there is no football. Prescription opioids are prescribed for pain, but how much of that pain is, at root, magnified by lack of football? I do not mean to be heartless. I ask only whether this blight that has fallen over all of us, the off-season, does not make things look worse.
Tomorrow will be the fourth of July. They will taunt me again with ubiquitous displays of red, white, blue, and incidental silver from ambient sources, such as the coin you might flip to decide whether it is time for another beer. Children, perhaps, will throw a football around out of season. God bless them. I do not know that I can share their hope that there will ever be another season.
Day 146: The authorities continue to re-play meaningless Rams-Saints games on NFL*N. It has been perhaps the most awesome off-season for a decade, yet the whole world remains a ghost of itself. The authorities continue to refuse to let new football be played. I follow fan spats about what will happen in the future, to no avail. None of it can be known yet. For now we fester in our cells, waiting for the day that foot meets pigskin for real in the 2017-2018 season... if there is a 2017-2018 season.
I watch politics. I play games. On occasion, I write. I try to break up the boredom but the boredom is unending. I know that there are events of great moment afoot: North Korea seems to have ICBMs and H-Bombs. Tens of thousands are dying each year in a prescription opioid epidemic. Yet I cannot shake the feeling that Kim is only bored because there is no football. Prescription opioids are prescribed for pain, but how much of that pain is, at root, magnified by lack of football? I do not mean to be heartless. I ask only whether this blight that has fallen over all of us, the off-season, does not make things look worse.
Tomorrow will be the fourth of July. They will taunt me again with ubiquitous displays of red, white, blue, and incidental silver from ambient sources, such as the coin you might flip to decide whether it is time for another beer. Children, perhaps, will throw a football around out of season. God bless them. I do not know that I can share their hope that there will ever be another season.