a sports magazine came in the mail for me. not really a sports magazine, but an advertisement made up to look like a sports magazine that tries to sell other sports magazines. i stared at the cover on the way to work, since my only other option is to stare at bad, short-sighted drivers, and that's not good for anyone. but this magazine has ruined my entire life. sports, and marketing, and cheap flimsy paper, and insterts falling out, and polls and rankings... i think of those whose lives revolve around games, or covering games, or bookies, or specifically making time to watch sports on tv, and i sink. my day is totally shot. pro sports make me intestinally uneasy.
and the money! my god, the money!
i'm hoping that by ceremoniously tearing every page of this magazine into tiny pieces and maybe scattering them into the wind i will have vanquished whatever sinister forces may be at work here (i need an old priest and gabriel byrne). or if it's raining i'll just flush them. or eat them.
trite things really can cause me fits. this sounds overly-dramatic, but there it is. it fits in more with my emotional instability, or the imbalanced conceptions of the world i harbor. whichever works for you.
i should mention i don't disapprove of people liking sports or playing for fun, i just hate the money involved. and all the bling bling (i'm going to get a panda from china and name it bling-bling).
album du jour: freezepop fancy ultra-fresh
1 comment:
i'm going to get a panda from china and name it bling-blingSweet.
I actually have a subscription to ESPN Magazine, but I play well with those that don't like sports. :) I sympathize with the inserts, they drive me nuts, but giving credit where credit is due, they had a tremendous article on the Iraqi soccer team a few weeks before the Olympics that pretty much predicted the animosity towards Bush we've seen from the players. It was good stuff.
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