Wednesday, September 18, 2013

Lord, Hear My Rhymes With Stupor Troll Prayer

Prime Time Plaguers
(kneels)

Oh Lord. I know it's been a long time since we've talked outside of poker flops, but I feel right in my integrity to ask for this.

If You could ever wish for a greater opportunity to show That Presumed Disdain for the Wealthy...

I'll make it more clear. The NFL, in its infinite ability to lie with a straight face, is dramatically raising ticket prices for this year's Spit In The Eye Of Logic Big Game, basically because, um, it can. The true value of most NFL tickets is far in advance of what's printed on the ticket, and most of that value is being pocketed by the lamprey-like reselling agencies. But instead of adopting a practice that smacks all customers across the eyes, the NFL is only enforcing no-resell rules to the "winners" of the local team's ticket allotment. Corporate swells will still be able to move these things like the graft monkeys they are.

But I'm not asking for boils, or lesions, or anything from the Job File, Lord. If those folks want to spend their earthly wages in that way, that's their choice, and You did give us free will, after all. Even to Raider Fans.

I'm also not going to ask for my Eagles to be in that game, Lord. I know they aren't ready. But I also know that if the game is a fiasco due to weather, we'll avoid this mistake for at least a decade or two... and if my Eagles wind up going again in the next few years, and I make the mistake to buy a ticket or two, it won't be to some non-destination. I get that the meek will inherit, Lord, but I think You have already made your opinion on Cleveland and Detroit clear by now.

So here is what I am asking for, Lord.

A Nor'easter.

FEET, not inches, of snow, glorious snow.

Bone-shattering cold.

Maybe some of that freaky winter lightning or ominous fog that we get now, too.

Roll it all up together, with just enough warning so that everyone knows it's going to be hateful to be at the game, but not enough time or reason to cancel or postpone it.

And then, as soon as halftime rolls around...

I'm thinking a nice little Plague. Something from the Old Testament. You don't need to go all the way into frogs and dead first bornes, but maybe a flock or two of migrating birds that just expire over the game, in a rain of Yea. Verily, This Can Never Happen Here Again.

Anyway, you've got months. Work on it. Leak a prophesy or two. Burn some shrubs outside MetLife. Continue that excellent work on Eli Manning and David Wilson.

Bring It, Oh Lord, Bring It. For the great and good smiles it will bestow on the sick, the tired, and the poor.

Amen.

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