Honestly, I don't know how you can read that stuff. The writer and the commenters work overtime to impress you with their brimming intelligence. I don't know how these people tolerate a life where they are forced to share the planet with armies of dunderheads. Oh! The suffering they must endure!
"Indefensible Super Bowl parties"? What's that? The audacity to have friends over to your house and watch this "heathenistic" game? Que up the Gladiator soundtrack, for that is what we are: immoral legions of Rome in a feeding frenzy watching the slaves kill themselves. Pass the cheese and beer!
Salon's description of the game is right out of a Soho coffee house: "...women bounce like sexual ornaments on the sidelines. Or social justice activists to back a sport whose players are harvested from poor neighborhoods, valued almost exclusively for their physical prowess, and trained to suppress their empathy." Que up the Roots soundtrack, for that is what we do: Find the next Kunta Kinte, train him, use him, and spit him out. We'll make our selections while we eat ham hocks and wipe the grease from our chins!
And what Salon article would be complete without a Tea Party reference? Not this one! The Tea Partiers are responsible for the NFL stadiums! Hypocrites!
"Simmons, in his cri de couer..." Uh, what the hell is that?
The writer finishes with this poetry: "Not every drawn line is immediately visible." Oh, but it is to you, Steve Almond! For you are a guiding post! A shining beacon sent by humanity to save the human race from itself!
And the legions of commenters can't wait to weigh in, quick to nod in unison:
"deeznuggets":
It's not a national religion, it's our national core. Violent and brain damaged succinctly describes our country."
But not you, deeznuggets, not you. You're a member of the intellectual elite. You have the rare ability to understand what the masses simply cannot.
Ha!