Draft Day Has Come
Brothers and Sisters:
Before we proceed, I thought I would take a moment to discuss the significance of this day. In earlier posts I have gushed a little about other enjoyable days of the year. I have staged a micro-celebration or two. I have suffered enthusiasms.
But I should be clear: no other day on the calendar quite compares with Draft Day. Today is THE day — the one day of the year in which we can truly forgive and forget one another's race, ethnicity, age, sex, gender, transgendered status, disability, and unconventional dress. Today is the day when we can look past a certain person's affinity for the Notre Dame football program. Today is the day I roll over in my bed, look at my Wife, and say:
"Sweetchuck, you're gonna want to steer clear of me until Saturday morning."
Because today we come together as equals to swear at, screw over, and hurl public insults at one another over the course of an evening. As someone who cultivates these skills year round, I always look forward to Draft Day, when I know I can practice them unfettered by social convention and unaffected by pleading looks from the Aforementioned Wife.
It has been over a year since we last had Draft Day, and I would like to pause a moment to reflect on all the very, VERY important things that happened in all of our lives in the intervening time — nah, screw it. Let's get on with it.
To you Other Eight, my friends, my compadres, my cameradoes, competitors, rivals, perpetual runners-up . . to you to you to you I proclaim and declaim, I pronounce and announce, I command and demand and remand as follows:
THIS DRAFT DAY IS OPEN!
[ribbon is cut with Ceremonial League Pruning Shears]
Before we proceed, I thought I would take a moment to discuss the significance of this day. In earlier posts I have gushed a little about other enjoyable days of the year. I have staged a micro-celebration or two. I have suffered enthusiasms.
But I should be clear: no other day on the calendar quite compares with Draft Day. Today is THE day — the one day of the year in which we can truly forgive and forget one another's race, ethnicity, age, sex, gender, transgendered status, disability, and unconventional dress. Today is the day when we can look past a certain person's affinity for the Notre Dame football program. Today is the day I roll over in my bed, look at my Wife, and say:
"Sweetchuck, you're gonna want to steer clear of me until Saturday morning."
Because today we come together as equals to swear at, screw over, and hurl public insults at one another over the course of an evening. As someone who cultivates these skills year round, I always look forward to Draft Day, when I know I can practice them unfettered by social convention and unaffected by pleading looks from the Aforementioned Wife.
It has been over a year since we last had Draft Day, and I would like to pause a moment to reflect on all the very, VERY important things that happened in all of our lives in the intervening time — nah, screw it. Let's get on with it.
To you Other Eight, my friends, my compadres, my cameradoes, competitors, rivals, perpetual runners-up . . to you to you to you I proclaim and declaim, I pronounce and announce, I command and demand and remand as follows:
THIS DRAFT DAY IS OPEN!
[ribbon is cut with Ceremonial League Pruning Shears]
posted by Phutatorius at 9:52 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home