Let’s say that you, the Brokelyn reader, are not a football fan. Let’s say you went your entire American life without a boy- or girlfriend who drafted you into their specific garishly-colored cult. Let’s say that you moved to Brooklyn to fully utilize your Conceptual Art degree, to live out your subversive dream of filling a confessional booth with hotel toiletries. Maybe you were too busy with Oepdia Maas to be much concerned with Eddie George. Let’s say you are not from The South.
Guess what? No judgments, but you lived your life the wrong way, comrade. And, come February, you’re still going to be invited to a Super Bowl Party.Fortunately for you, you can pay someone to teach you the game.
Haha, no, that’s not fortunate at all. Though no nobler goal exists than bequeathing the gift of football to the tired, hungry masses of sheltered artists and perplexed foreigners, there is something crass and cynical about thinking you can charge $50 ($10 via LivingSocial) and take up three hours of someone’s life for rudimentary knowledge that Danny from Bay Ridge could knock out over four beers and a halftime show. Did I think that football could be made even more crass, cynical, and opportunistic? Of course I did.I watch football.
But hey, instead of just shooting the shit with someone, you get video lectures! So if this still sounds like a sane and rational investment to you, please heed my advice and save your money for Mulholland’s or a shrink. Here’s a free lesson: fuck the Falcons. You’re a terrible football team and everyone hates you.