Monday, February 6, 2012


I don't like football.

I like combat. I like battle. That raw, emotional clash that fuels barroom fistfights and Glasgow soccer riots. That sense of delight when your hated enemies taste defeat in your touchdown at 0:57...and that sense of terror when they almost get the lead at 0:03.

It's the same with Halo. Or Modern Warfare. Or even Mario Kart. It's the same with every competitive game and every competitive fandom: I (or my proxies out there on the field/court/whatever) win. You lose. Do I actually hate my brother just because he's a Patriots fan who dresses up his son in a Tom Brady jersey? No, of course not. Do I relish his facial expression when Tom Brady draws first blood against his own team? Of course I do.

We're civilized men. Instead of watching gladiators butcher each other for our bloodlust, we watch men the size of refrigerators run headlong into men the size of freezers all for the sake of a ball the size of a human head.

And, if that doesn't sate us, we pretend to shoot each other. What a time to be alive.

I also like ice cream.

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