Riley: Where have you been, Mister? Me: I’m sorry – I had to work late but I love love love you! Riley: I’m mad. Me: Do you want some ice? Riley: … Me: I’ll give you the whole ice tray… Riley: <jumps into my arms>
I’m going to go out on a limb here. The Giants are not going to win the Super Bowl. The Patriots won’t either.Neither, on their greatest day, can out-perform Matthew Broderick.
The halftime show, while it may be as entertaining as Janet Jackson, or as entertaining as the Black Eyed Peas, won’t be the victor. And as much as I am so very looking forward to the new Avengers movie, the trailer for that masterpiece will fall a bit short as well.
You see, there can only be one winner, and this year that winner will be…
Broderick… Broderick… Broderick.
My sister’s boyfriend’s daughter’s bromide’s (don’t ask – I don’t understand this word either) boyfriend’s dog doesn’t have to tell me that a car commercial which parodies the great Ferris Bueller’s Day Off will be the best offering at the game today.
If you doubt my prognostication skills, shame one you. For your viewing pleasure, I bring you what will surely be the best commercial debuting during the Super Bowl this year:Matthew’s Day Off.
(You’re still here? Why are you still here? Go on – read another article.)
Knowledge is power, and understanding our past is essential. As is knowing the proper rules for golf during a firefight with the Nazis. After all, who can argue the importance of knowing when and when not to take a penalty because an explosion moved your golf ball while you are on the course?
World War II had a major impact on Europe, but the fact that the British were prepared for the coming onslaught is somehow reassuring. I, for one, am all for preparedness (I was a Cub Scout, even if I was never promoted to the elusive Boy Scout status).
I think the Richmond Gold Club should be commended, though perhaps the direction of their focus could have been redirected a bit. But then, the Axis powers had just bombed one of their buildings in a fierce display of anti-golf anger. Perhaps their ears were still ringing, causing them to focus on the finer points of golf rules instead of the safety of their members. But hey, what golf club really cares about its members’ safety, anyway?
Me: Riley, where did you get that treat? Riley: I’m stockpiling for the winter. Me: Why are you eating it now? Riley: … Me: And why are you now throwing into the air instead of eating it? Riley: I got bored.