Super Bowl XLVII Prediction: Potato Chips

As in who cares? Its the Ravens and 49ers. Its two brothers staring at each other, each trying to look more puzzled and confused than the other. It’s listening to two insufferable fan bases who know more about crabs and oysters than football. I’m fairly certain I speak for most of the NFL when I say: Nobody gives a shit, now go make me some crab cakes.

For me the NFL season ended two weeks ago. Even the alternative to this match-up would have been annoying. Matt Ryan and Tom Brady are two of the more fake, pre-programmed Ken dolls the NFL PR department has churned out in decades. Had the Falcons advanced we would have had to listen to the vomit-inducing nickname “Matty Ice” a few million times. (And by the way, that nick name sounds like the stage name for the world’s first openly gay rapper, not an NFL quarterback.) If Brady had advanced the term “passing the torch” would be uttered more often than the coverage of the Olympics. The sale of hand lotion and Kleenex in the Bristol, CT are would have skyrocketed, so nobody is more disappointed with SB XLVII than the folks at Lubriderm.

Read the rest here.

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