Oh. That's TODAY.....

I'm talking about Super Bowl God-Knows-What-Number (and if they use Roman Numerals to designate how many, why don't they use them to track the score of the actual game?). Asking for a friend, or would be if I had any.

My brother Kelly and I watched the New York Jets' Joe Willie Namath, Matt Schnell, Emerson Boozer, George Sauer, and Don Maynard (among others) upset the Baltimore Colts back in the early years of both the Super Bowl and Roman Numerals which featured a terrific post-game brawl between Arthur M. and his older brother Vincent. Kelly and I who had our share and more of disagreements could only watch in admiration at the level of violence those exhibited.

Where was I?

Oh, yes. Super Bowl Sunday. I don't remember who the half-time entertainment was that day, though I'm sure I watched it (it was the Florida A& M University Marching Band in a program entitled "America Thanks."). Right now, we could use a program called "America Thinks," but that's a bridge too far, I fear. As for the entertainers themselves, when did everything become a political litmus test? 

I've read many folks tune in to watch the commercials because it gives them something to talk about in the office later this week. Good news! I retired almost eight years ago and don't have a water cooler, so here are the 2026 Super Bowl commercials, all in one place without any of that football stuff to get in the way.

Don't see anything quite as memorably immortal as the Outpost commercial, but that's just me. Although, come to think of it, the second gerbil reminds me a bit of Arthur. So close.
-bill kenny

The Ghost of Astro

An argument I have against owning a dog is watching folks who do own one freeze on winter days when they take the animal for a walk. I remain convinced the dog would be willing to learn to use the bathroom, but agrees to go outside in the cold because it thinks its owners like doing so.

And don't get me started on clean-up, or shoveling yellow snow.

I say, 'Give 'em the leash and let them walk themselves!' Looks like Robo-dogs could be the next big thing. 

"Who's a good boy?" (Which end do you pet?)
-bill kenny  

Catch Your Breath

I can't be the only one who goes to bed tired and wakes up exhausted. If I were a Jet-Setter or one of the Beautiful People, I could (sort of) understand my fatigue. Non-stop glamour takes its toll on anybody, and I am not immune.
And, I suspect neither are you.

But wait! I've discovered what could be the root cause of our exhaustion. And after checking this out, you might feel better about feeling so tired.

There's only so long we can run on fumes.
Take the next right at the signpost up ahead.
bill kenny

Just My Type

I'm so old that there were typing classes in high school. Not that I ever took any. 

I'm a modified Eagle Typist, otherwise known as a 'hunt and peck' guy. I'm pretty fast, all things considerd especially when I don't know how the sentence I'm typing is going to end (Why should I? No one else knows either). Current one included (that was a little disappointing, wasn't it?).

Of course, these days all of my typing, like yours, I suspect, is done on a computer keyboard and/or the screen on a smartphone. But some of us can do more than yearn for those Good Old Days when the choice was manual or electric. Now, there's a little more.

Can you imagine stepping on that thing? 
-bill kenny

January Was a Long Year

I have little regard for the current President of the United States (I assume if he thought of me at all, the feeling would be reciprocated; and we'd both be right). 

That admission, I hope, is not a newsflash if you stop by this space in cyberspace, if only sporadically. To me, he is a fass ohne boden, a barrel without a bottom. Any time and/or every time you think he cannot go any lower, he does. 

The attack on Representative Ilhan Omar made headlines last week and provoked a wave of the political equivalent of thoughts and prayers, some of which may have been sincere, from all sides of the ideological spectrum. 

With one notable exception (of course).

No bother, brother; really. Sort of like the tantrum about lowering the National Ensign at the White House for Senator McCain's funeral while eagerly doing so for Charlie Kirk. But what hung me up was his suggestion, "She probably had herself sprayed." What could have ever given him that idea?

I only ask because, for a guy who takes to Truth Social to criticize the NFL's kick-off rule, whining about not getting the Nobel Peace Prize for ending eight imaginary wars, critiquing the logo change for Cracker Barrel, to say nothing about his insistence that the 2020 election was stolen, how often has he ever mentioned Thomas Crooks? More importantly, why not?

Perhaps, I suspect, because it takes one to know one.
-bill kenny

A Deserved Reprise

I offered this a couple of years ago on this date, since on this date years ago, and every year on this date since, it is my youngest brother's birthday. 

I called it (less than imaginatively): 

On My Brother's Birthday

I'm fortunate to have two brothers and three sisters. I concede that, as the oldest of the brood, lucky was NOT always the first word I would have reached for to describe my condition in terms of my siblings.

As my parents' practice child, I had, and have, the smallest heart, the slowest brain, and the most easily bruised feelings. By the time Joan and Bill Senior's last production model, Adam, whose birthday is today, rolled off the familial assembly line, they had a set of mighty fine children.

A brother is someone with whom you share both childhood memories and grown-up dreams. I've known Adam every day of his whole life, and any stories I would tell you, he would know, and in the telling of them, they would no longer be just ours but would belong to the world.

I suspect Adam would be okay with that, but I know I wouldn't be at all, so I'll save them for us and offer to you instead words from Clara Ortega that read as if she could be a sister we never knew, but she's describing the family, not just her family: 

"To the outside world, we all grow old. But not to brothers and sisters. We know each other as we always were. We know each other's hearts. We share private family jokes. We remember family feuds and secrets, family griefs and joys. We live outside the touch of time."

As each of us knows, including Adam, that's not really true, but it is a lovely thought, especially on your birthday. And he was just able to read that line and wince thanks to me. Happy Birthday Adam!
-bill kenny

 

"I Could Check with the Kitchen"

I once knew someone who was born in Puxsutawney, Pennsylvania, on this date, but whose name is not Phil, though that would seem to have been low-hanging fruit at the time of his nativity.

My brother, Kelly, would be somewhat disappointed to learn his name also isn't Bill, as in Bill Murray, which might seem to be an acceptable alternative as an homage to his cinematic tour de force.

I think Kelly is on to something with his regard for the movie, since, as I've aged, I have a growing sense of us living and reliving the same day over and over again. The fear of the End of Days may be misplaced, as it could, for some of us, actually be more of a new paragraph than the closing of a book.

More people believe in a rodent's prophecy than believe in climate change

Look at our world, then at our nation, and then, if you promise not to blink, look at your own life. What do you remember of where all of this was this time a year ago, a decade ago, or perhaps a score of years ago? The rewind button is stuck, and all that changes is the characters while the play rolls on.

Lest you think I'm depressed or distressed, nothing could be farther from the truth. I love this day because it's all the excuse I need to listen to this and smile, at least usually in that order.
-bill kenny