My next heart attack is looming. It has to be because my chest hurts clean through to my shoulders. My left arm hurts, and I need to shave my tongue. Wait, I don’t think that last thing is a thing. Well, it’s obviously a thing, but probably not heart-related. Probably not.

Check out this shit and remember that until now, I was unaware of it. When did this happen? How did I miss it?

Oh, yeah: because I rarely watch football. Yes, that’s it. Last season, I never watched a single full game. I don’t know that I can claim to have done it this year either, but I did watch more. At first, I thought nothing out of the ordinary. It was just football, the American kind, not the soccer kind.

And now, at the end of another season, there’s this crap, conspiracy theories, and very high-profile romances and other nonsensical dog shit.

I found it hilarious that the NFL released an actual script of the season (99% redacted) to press and fans alike. That’s some funny stuff there, I can’t deny it. I actually gave an out-loud old geezer chuckle when I read it.

But if the league is rigged, and the rumors and allegations finally got to be a bit more than Goodell could handle, why not go with it? Yes, why not? Have a go at your fanbase, do it, and show them how stupid they really are, and that you’re waving it in their faces and laughing like all hell. Because, football and beer. Like Orwell said. Keep them happy – and stupid.

And when that’s not enough, toss in some “proof” that a conspiracy theory is real. Yeah, that’ll really fuck em up.

From that and the season-long romance of Trousers Kelpie and Retailer Swift, you got a winner. I wonder. I really have to wonder, but at the same time, I don’t care. It’s sad but funny.

People will watch the Super Bowl in record numbers this year. At halftime, San Fracisco Bay and the Mississippi River will experience unusually high tides and undertows as everyone flushes their own bowls. That’s because there’s going to first be a run on Dorito’s and quacomole dip, hot wings, and lunch meat trays that were prepared five days earlier. On Monday, there’s gonna be a “run” on Imodium AD. The shortage that results will last until March. Just in time for breweries to put green shit and anything else they can think of in your beer. That will cause a run on urology clinics, but let’s not get into that now.

Because in April, there’s Opening Day, like baseball is some big deal. Well, it used to be. Not anymore. Now, just like football, rule changes have shortened games so that prima donna multimillionaire players who think their shit doesn’t really smell all that bad don’t have to put in extra innings or full-length overtime periods or some such pussy bullshit.

Entertainment. Sports entertainment.

What would George Orwell say? Well, I think he would rewrite the book. You know why? Because Room 101 isn’t necessary. We’ve proven him too correct in his prognostications. Afterward, the Man Himself would just shake his head and slowly walk back to his grave. On his way, he’d say under his breath, “I tried to warn the motherfuckers.”

And MGM hates you more than you know. Go on, hand over your money.