The indentured servants here at the Manor are in a funk today. Had to brew my own coffee. The unlettered field hands are making menacing motions with their pitchforks. Ol’ Sparky, the Eisenhower-era mainframe, isn’t sparking. The machine had, after all, predicted a Packer victory Sunday. Ergo, the results you thought you saw on the TV or read in the morning paper cannot be true.
The white lab coats here at the Policy Werkes refuse to accept the results of the NFC championship game. Clearly, the Russians have twiddled with the scoreboard. Joe Buck and Troy Aikman showed their bias against the Packers by relaying secret codes to the Falcon quarterback through some kind of wireless device in his helmet. Or molars. Breitbart moved the goalposts on Mason Crosby’s field goal. A DNC operative greased the football on Ripkowski’s carry in the red zone. Muslim jihadists put germs in Green Bay ’s Gatorade. That’s why everyone in Green and Gold was sick.
The Squire is sick. He demands a do-over. Who’s with me? Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor? This situation absolutely requires a really futile and stupid gesture be done on somebody’s part! Packer fans, meet me at Library Mall for the march to the Capitol. We’ll chant meaningless slogans. This will be a hissy fit for the ages. Grief counsellors, man (and woman) your battle stations.
If we protest long enough, loud enough, and often enough, we can change the scoreboard. This, I believe. I do. … I really do.