The Superbowl? More like the STUPID-bowl! Ha!

Hello, Melissa. You're looking lovely today. As always, I hasten to add, as always.

In Minneapolis, it is rare to find chefs who actively pray over their food. You are more likely to find chefs who mash a piece of American cheese between two hamburger patties and grill up the whole greasy ball of meat and and dairy goodness. This is called the "Jucy Lucy". The spelling of "Juicy" is meant to be wrong, because badly spelled foods show that the cook was too busy pursuing his passion to worry about effete things such as proper use of the English language.

Damn, the Jucy Lucy is good. Particularly the version made at Matt's Bar on the corner of 35th and Cedar. After your waitress brings you this meaty treat, you must wait a whole five minutes before taking a bite. This is like purgatory, since the scent of it is so transfixing that a normal human's first instinct is to devour it immediately. But to do that is foolish and short-sighted! Because the cheese within--so low grade it wraps around the "cheese quality" continuum and becomes gourmet--is superheated and will spray out all over your face, giving you second degree burns and concurrently diminishing the full succor of the Jucy Lucy.

No, it is best to wait. Patience is rewarded by sensual bliss. You cannot be denied this joy a moment longer, my dear Melissa. Get on a plane, come to Minneapolis, call my cell phone, and come with me to Matt's Bar. I will purchase you a Jucy Lucy. I will even purchase you an order of fries. And then you will know true happiness.

As for football, you have touched on one of my other true passions. If it is not time for gristle-strewn beefy goodness, it is generally time for the gridiron. But I must disagree with you that pigskin professionals must have machismo-laden names. I think that the Obama-era America would benefit from a richer version of masculinity. One that does not embrace war-like and brutish mascots, but instead draws from a deeper pool. My ideas:

1) The Toledo Fancy Knickers
2) The Sacramento Debutantes
3) The St. Paul Green Party
4) The Washington Liberal Diplomats
5) The St. Louis Sassy Girls
6) The Birmingham Ballet
7) The Milwaukee Wise Accountants

What says you?

Happy Superbowl Sunday!

Happy Superbowl Sunday, Kevin!  Congratulations. You've lived to see another superbowl. How's the weather?  Are your eyeballs freezing? Yesterday was a sun shiny beautiful fifty degrees. I dined at an Indian Buffet.  The cooks prayed over the food before it is served.  Do cooks in Minneapolis bless their food?

Back to Superbowl Sunday. I'm quite confused by the names of football teams.  Take, for instance, the Arizona Cardinals.  Now, I love Cardinals.  I think they are beautiful birds.  But when I think of men smashing into each other for testosterone's sake, of a Cardinal I do not think.  All football teams should be required to name their teams inspired by macho gusto. Some examples of appropriate team labels are "The Warriors of Cleveland" or "The Knee Smashers of Prairie Dog, Wisconsin".  I compliment your state for choosing a title worthy of it's pig skin warriors.  "Vikings" is pretty good.