Super-Sethoughts on the Most Disgusting Sunday of the Year

Superbowl Sundays embody the fat American in all of us. Actually, just the males expose their gluttony. Example: my girlfriend Emily drove back to Great Falls from Kalispell shortly after the kickoff. She called me up by chance just seconds after the game ended and was surprised it had lasted so long. I explained the power outage and how brother-related-coaching games take on average 34 minutes longer than no relation games. In the time that she spent driving, I sat in front of a tv for 4 hours and ate insane amounts of chips, dip, and cookies broken up with soda and beer breaks. For many of us, Sundays are a time for fusing our bodies to a couch and at any particular Super Bowl party one can usually pick out the guests who watch one full NFL game once a year. These people congregate in the kitchen, cheer for the cute animal commercials, and are the first to leave. Here are some Sethoughts on the game:

The Sandy Hook choir that sang "America the Beautiful" was initially touching, but once I thought it over, I vehemently hated it. It left a sour taste in my mouth, not because of "the NFL is a violent sport and they're hypocrites" argument. I hated it because there were 26 members to honor the "20 children and 6 teachers killed". Seriously? Do fourteen-year-old girls run CBS now? Should they have the kickoff from the 15 yrd line in honor of the AR-15 that he used? A moment of silence would have been an appropriate activity, not some bullshit exhibition where traumatized kids are propped up like soldiers to stare down evil that may or may not be watching. The choir was meant to show unity and a sense of perseverance over the unfair and complex problem that is gun violence. But really, no one will care or remember by next week. How about a 3 minute TED talk on ways of dealing with mental health? Why not open up a real dialogue instead of presenting a happy distraction? There were 114 million f###ing TVs tuned in, that's the best we can do?

Alicia Keys sang the anthem in 2:35 which was over the 2:15 line in case anyone had money on that prop.

The 49ers 1st play was a 20 yard pass that was called back by a penalty. Their play calling stalled the rest of the drive. This was exactly how the rest of the game played out for them: move the ball without scoring a lot of points and act as unprepared as possible.

Loved the Oreo commercial, hated The Lone Ranger promos or as I called it "Pirates of the Caribbean in the Desert"

Beyonce killed it at halftime. Our living room erupted when Destiny's Child spawn-bursted on the stage and when Beyonce sang 'Halo'. The multiple background CGI-beyonces were also trippy.

The blackout was fun-if you're into that kind of thing, I guess. It was the most watched most boringest half hour of tv. The CBS crew had five minutes of material that they basically put on repeat. They should have had Dr. Phil and the Manti T'eo-Tuiasosopo-Dead girlfriend love triangle on in case of emergency. I'm still waiting for ESPN to publish a headline that says: "T'eo sexted with online 'girlfriend', but qualifies it with stating "No Homo".

The blackout ended and the real game began. It seemed as though the first half was played in 2012 and the 49ers would dominate as everyone first predicted.

Kaepernick averaged 8.9 yards a carry but only had 5 attempts? What took them so long to do this when Gore continually ran into a brick wall in the middle? Also a hurry-up offense would be nice.

The officiating in the final minutes of any game is weird. Why is there an unwritten rule to "let them play" in the 4th quarter? Shouldn't 4th quarter penalties be reviewed like catches and turnovers in the final two minutes of games?

After the game ended I felt nauseous and bloated. I bet I wasn't the only one.

Dear Carl...

Carl is a jackass, but of course everyone knows that.

If Carl's ass had a name, it'd be named Jack. The JACk for his car is a pain in the ASS to use. He of course likes JACK cheese (which smells like ass), has many JACKets, and never uses wifi-he likes his internet via a JACK. When Carl grows up, he wants to be an ASStronaut, own a JACKal, JACKknife semi-trucks for a living, and open up a restaurant called International House of JACKASS.

Finally, if Carl were an ice cream, he'd be vanilla ice cream with hard gummy bears and swirling bits of JACKASS.

The Prequel to the Mayan Apocolypse

June is really just January 2.o since many of us young guns are pressing the reset button on our lives from another semester of school. Instead of New Year's resolutions, there are summer reading lists and summer reading-on-the-sh**ter lists. Instead of feeble attempts to lose weight, we are making half-assed attempts to plant gardens or go jogging (pronounced with a silent j).

The point of resolutions or "fresh starts" in general is straightforward: put in the work early and steadily so that one can achieve those goals that have been smoldering on the back burner for years. But resolutions in 2012 are not like resolutions of Januarys and Junes past. 2012 is an Olympic year, but more importantly, it's also an Apocolypse year. The Mayan Apocolypse is just around the corner.

The resolutions you set this summer should be treated as if it's your last summer on earth because chances are, it will be your last summer on earth. The Mayans not only made precise calendars, they also invented digital watches, wrote the screenplay for the movie "In Time", wrote the song "Time", and coined the phrase "time flies when you're having fun." Since the Apocolypse is scheduled two weeks before Christmas, we might as well celebrate JC's birth in August when there aren't any holidays to begin with. Please suggest appropriate weekends in the comment section so that we can all be on the same page. And don't forget to make end-of-life resolutions this week. Finally, don't call it your "bucket list". I never said anything about buckets and the previews for that movie looked annoying.

F#%@in' Turner

My esteemed running colleagues and I wanted to go running at 3:00 P.M. Mountain Standard Time, but nooooo, Jake (F#%@in) Turner wants the group to wait until 3:05. Someone has forgotten their place on the team. We, the seniors, control Monday practice times. You, the freshie, control when you eat, sleep, and poop. All other decisions should be deferred to upperclassmen.

Run of Shame

I hop into my SmartCar

Heading to the R bar,

Slingin' out one-liners,

And duckin' from the minors

They be checkin' out my tank-top,

Fohawk, and all my bobs to hip-hop,

Now girl get your things, were gonna make this night a stand,

And I'm sayin right now I won't be a loving man,

Cuz

Imma

Gonna make ya

Do the Run of Shame

My pad aint near a gas station, a highway,

the road doesn't even have a name.

It's thir-teen miles in any direction,

And I hope you don't mind this minor complication

Now you may have done the walk of shame,

But baby imma a runner, so you be playin' my game,

You shoudda paid more attention as we crossed the county line,

You said you liked to jog on Sundays, so I figured you be fine,

I'd drive you myself, but I usually skimp on gas,

So get on out that door or you'll be late to class,

Cuz

Imma

Gonna make ya

Do the Run of Shame

My pad aint near a gas station, a highway,

the road doesn't even have a name.

It's thir-teen miles in any direction,

And I hope you don't mind this minor complication

As runner myself, I passed you at mile five,

You flipped me the bird to signal you're alive,

It aint my fault you're runnin in a skirt,

All I had on me was an extra t-shirt,

So I put on a smile and said see ya lata alligator,

Let me know if you need any extra toilet paper,

Cuz

Imma

Gonna make ya

Do the Run of Shame

My pad aint near a gas station, a highway,

the road doesn't even have a name.

It's thir-teen miles in any direction,

And I hope you don't mind this minor complication

Summer Hummer

Ladies and gentelmen I've come with a lesson,
You be the priest and I'll be confessin',
These aint about my sins, I've been watchin all of you,
You're hatin' on my game, it's all you do,

You haters think you're fly,
With knee-socks and a headband,
But wait, no one gives a sh**, cuz you got no fans,
That's right, now go away, except you Dan,

And I be runnnin that mile,
Workin for Kennedy,
Keepin my sanity,
Checkin out MILFs and hangin with Lyle,
These are my days, my nights, my summer,
And if I stay loyal, imma get that Hummer.

When I ran Whitefish, they treat me like a minor,
And I said FORGET YOU and a rude one-liner,
I got a line of babes, waitin' to get in,
To the Sethda Express,
Where it's buffets and good times, expect no less,
Then I be hittin' the road, preppin for tests

And I be runnnin that mile,
Workin for Kennedy,
Keepin my sanity,
Checkin out MILFs and hangin with Lyle,
These are my days, my nights, my summer,
And if I stay loyal, imma get that Hummer.

My 'rents sold the house, they're movin' south,
And I'm comin' to Bozeman spreadin' word-of-mouth,
Let's all get runnin, let's all get some sun in,
Cuz we got season in September,
And I hope you all remember,
That you aint gettin' nowhere with a negative 'tude,
Just ask Kevin, sometimes he's rude

But it's pretty neat that ya'll are bloggin,
I wish I could stay, but imma soon be joggin,
Here comes the chorus, use that noggin,

And I be runnnin that mile,
Workin for Kennedy,
Keepin my sanity,
Checkin out MILFs and hangin with Lyle,
These are my days, my nights, my summer,
And if I stay loyal, imma get that Hummer.

What the French Toast?

Seriously, what the french toast?! I leave the country for 5 months and now all of a sudden the cross country team has ballooned to the size of a K-12 school! Why is Justin Bieber running? Why are we running on Alaskan time? How the f### are Carl and Pat still captains?



I quit.