We now get to endure another forced death march through Brett Favre's storied career via fawning retrospectives and "oh how we'll miss him" tributes.
You, up ahead, get moving - we want to be to his triumph over vicodin addiction by sundown.
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Oh, Mr. CP I am torn. Do we judge our penises compared to porn stars. God I hope not. Nor should we judge our pitiful football opinions on this larger than life player. He will stand erect as one of the greatest players ever. Even with a throbbing fully engorged thumb, he would play on. A great man once said, Dick Cheney, I think, “Judge not least ye be judged”. What mere mortals are were to judge this great, Vicodin addicted, prima donna of a man. We, in Wisconsin, who had to watch other teams do the Super Bowl Shuffle for so many years. Our greats like Lynn Dicky, David Whitehurst, and Randy White....not to mention running back great Eddie Lee Ivory, seemed to just come up short every year. Just like the great owner of the Milwaukee Brewers, Bud Selig, tried to make it a point of putting together a losing team, The Green Bay Packers were happy to drink the Kool-Aid and dream of Vince Lombardi. Favre brought winning to Wisconsin, and really isn’t that all that matters in America sir. That, and possibly the size of one’s penis.
I remain respectfully,
Mr. Ali
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