It’s hard to say when I first developed my man crush on Brett Favre. I think it all began when Brett Favre threw his fabled pass to Antonio Freeman to defeat the Vikings in the fall of 2000. It’s funny, I’ve already forgotten my graduation day, losing my virginity is a blur, and I barely remember what I did last weekend but I will NEVER forget that epic battle and the aftermath that ensued. My roommate and I decided to set up our massive speakers in the hallway of the 8th floor Witte Hall and blast I Don’t Want to Work, I want to Bang on the Drums all Day because Todd Rungren is the ONLY musician that has ever captured the true essence of shame in a single song. The defeated looks on the faces of my jerkstore Minnesota friends remains in my memory as clear as a photograph to this day. Those truly were the glory days.
Some critics argue that Brett Favre has lost some of magic over the years but I say they can all kiss my pasty ass. The man brought home a Super Bowl title back to Green Bay after 30 goddamn YEARS for Christ sake, what else do you want? I don’t care if Brett Favre throws an interception after every pass for the rest of the season, no, scratch that, I don’t care if he throws an interception after every pass and then gives the middle finger to all the fans as he walks off the field for the rest of the season, I’ll STILL love the guy.
Brett Favre is the reason I support embryonic cloning research. As morally reprehensible as I find the idea of mankind altering genes, essentially “playing God” and thus reducing the grand beauty and complexity of human nature into sub-atomic DNA code, it still doesn’t outweigh the benefits of having a second #4 suiting up in the green and gold for the 2031 NFL season.
When the current Brett Favre retires, I foresee two events happening, neither of which are very good. The first is that mass hysteria will break out, fires will overtake the city, riots and pillaging will be rampant, and the streets will run red with the blood of the infidels. It won’t be pleasant to say the least.
The second, and MORE LIKELY scenario, is that at the ceremony where Brett Favre’s number gets retired, the clouds in the sky will part and a thunderous voice will boom, ”Citizens of Green Bay, you won’t be needing THIS anymore,” at which point a tremendous earthquake will form around the stadium and proceed to swallow Lambeau Field and everyone inside, but not before the mighty hand of God bursts from the heavens and plucks Brett Favre from the crowd to set him down safety on top of a very tall mountain.
Actually that probably wouldn’t happen either because everyone knows Brett Farve has the gift of flight so he could probably just fly away if he needed to. I bet he would save a bunch of little kids and some senior citizens on the way out too, that’s just the Brett Favre way.
Brett Favre’s infinite talent actually transcends the football field and on to the silver screen. Who could forget his unforgettable acting in the major motion picture There’s Something About Mary. His breakthrough role in the film defined a generation and his performance will forever be a benchmark for aspiring actors and actresses around the world. I actually wept, wept with joy, when he uttered those eight magical words, “I’m in town to play the Dolphins, dumbass.” The fact that he hasn’t received a star on the Walk of Fame is a true testament to the wanton corruption that plagues Hollywood today.
I propose that we all honor Brett Favre’s greatness by using his name as an adjective to describe something that’s awesome. For example:
A: “Hey, this pizza is pretty tasty.”
B: “Yeah, dude, this shit is Brett Favre!”
A: “Well, its good, but not Brett Favre.”
B: “You’re probably right. Hey, let’s go watch highlights from Super Bowl XXXI.
A: “Yes. I would like that a lot.”
The only problem is that it’s not very applicable to a lot of situations because nothing is more awesome than Brett Favre. What else more can I say?
Thanks, for the memories, Brett Favre. Thanks for the memories.
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