Put Some Gay In Your Day, Dallas!

Brands, Bands & Burrows.

My Christian perspective on Sunday evening’s gridiron travesty.

Brands.  While sitting at Luby’s having supper, I caught a few commercials during the Bowl of Superiority on the TV.  I find it hard to believe that some companies struggle to pay a living wage while spending millions of dollars for a minute of advertising fame.  Sister Anna Kendrick looked completely cracked out playing with pre-mortgaged Barbies.  Sister Johansson watched her dinner guests vomit oysters at dinner.  Brother Schwarzenegger gave PG&E heart palpitations over electricity.  But I about lost my Jell-o watching that UberEats commercial about people eating non-food items.  It was subtle, but having Sister Paltrow biting into a remnant of her nasty parts was filthy.  I’m using Door Dash for my future delivery needs!

Bands.  That was truly the most confusing marching band I’ve ever seen at a football game halftime.  Were those people high?  (Don’t answer that.)  What few instrument players they had were just standing on a platform while a bunch of blond black people made formations on the field.  And it was clearly Pentecostal influenced because the music was unintelligible to me and all must have been speaking in tongues.  And I’ll say this, if some tramp started dancing on the hood of my Rambler, she’d be sporting one less tooth!  Sigh, I just don’t get it.  But the crowd seemed to like it, so what do I know?

Burrows.  Alas, the Chinese in Los Angeles did not get the message that this is the Year of the Tiger.  (I don’t even know if there IS a Year of the Ram, but I digress.)  My money had been on the Ohio Tigers based on the Chinese calendar.  When that team lost, my heart went out to that precious #9 player.  His heart looked so broken.  So, I have gassed up the Rambler and am heading to Cincinnati to offer balm to that poor boy.  I shall let him burrow in my bosom of comfort while I lay hands on his wounded breast.  Hallelujah!  Lord, I come.