It's Super Bowl Sunday.
It's time to get out the snacks and sodas (or beer in most of the front rooms of our great war-torn nation).
I have all the snacks I plan to munch beneath my computer which is next to the 32'' flat screen TV that I just bought.
I have orange soda, orange Gatorade, (generic) ginger ale, Pepsi and Coke to imbibe.
During the game I will wash down with these sodas all of the pretzels, popcorn, pork rinds and pistachios that I can swallow.
I have Effervescent PainRelief on the bookcase next to my computer.
Dinner is out of the question right now, or at least is a very dim consideration.
The game is still about four hours away, and so I am typing this irrelevant news to have something to do (besides almost finishing Gore Vidal's memoir called Point to Point Navigation: "The brilliant sequel to Gore Vidal's acclaimed, bestselling memoir, Palimpsest"
(which I haven't read yet).
I am fudging and jumping the gun (or rather the kickoff) a little, because I have already started eating some pistachios.
I am drinking the dregs of this morning's Antigua coffee to wash down the seeds of this delicious drupaceous fruit.
But I will stop for now and wait for the Super game to begin.
I don't care who wins.
I usually cheer the underdog, which in today's game is supposed to be the Chicago Bears.
Sometimes I will change allegiance during the game.
I will do this when a player (or players) is playing "dirty".
But may the best team win.
And I hope this year's commercials are the best ever at $5,000,000 per minute.
IT'S THE OIL STUPID!