Dear Super Sunday,
I'm writing to apologise for the utter lack of a fuck that I give about you. No, let me be truthful. I do give a little bit of a fuck. But only insofar as it annoys the fuck out of me to hear about Ben Rapistberger... I mean Roethlisberger. So, I'd cheer for the Packers, I would. But Jones (Brad), Matthews, Sitton, Jones (Khalil), Hall, Underwood, and Flynn were also rather credibly accused of sexual assault. Yes, Super Sunday, I know, they were all cleared. I don't care. Especially about Rapistberger. I thoroughly believe that woman. She underwent a rape kit. Her complaint was neat and tidy until the bit about the rape. Really, Super Sunday, I believe her.
So no, I will not be cheering for anyone. I will not be enjoying any of it. It will be on in my living room as my darling Mr. FCS enjoys the game, even if he makes snarky comments about various players.
Sadly, Super Sunday, being Canadian, I can't even watch the stupid commercials and mock them mercilessly, as our Canadian feed puts our ads in place of theirs.
So I think I'll sit here, knit a bit, crochet a bit, and apologise to you. Because this year, I just can't get in the least bit excited. If I were not trying to be a decent person, I'd cheer for injuries.
h/t DJ Holla