Culture Bowl XL

We bad. We western PA, yo…. Posted by Picasa

One of the things that I dislike about the Super Bowl (and I’m going to point out that I’m not a big fan of pro football and I didn’t see last years game and I’m not planning on watching this years. So there…) is the bandwagon effect where people who care nothing about football jump on board because, well, everyone is doing it. And with that comes the predictions from people who haven’t a clue but don’t want to run the risk of not playing along and being one of the guys.

Which brings us to the NRO predictions where the basis for the pick is not the quality of the players or the coaching, but instead, which city is hairy-chested enough to be deserving of victory.

Let’s start with America’s Gambling Fool, Bill Bennett. See if you can spot the trend:

William J. Bennett
Super Bowl? Who am I for?! Seattle is the home of Starbucks, and 38 kinds of designer coffee. Pittsburgh’s best sandwich shop serves a huge sub with French fries and gravy inside the sandwich.

Who do you think I’m for?


Denis Boyles
I’ll sit in Kansas, eating BBQ and wishing for a Penn Pilsner, but happy and certain that the Steelers will completely overwhelm the Starbucks or whatever that team from the capital of soggy self-righteousness is called.


E. D. Hill
After watching my Tom-Brady-idolizing boys start wearing Big Ben jerseys under their shirts to school, I have to go with the Steelers to win 28-21. Scientific, huh?

Mr. Hill, our eight kids, and I will be watching the game on our new big screen TV (somehow it was my early Valentine’s Day gift!!). Eating habits start at a young age — the Cowboys Super Bowl era in our case — so we are serving nachos, brisket, and Texas-size cups of tea…okay….and maybe a few longnecks for the adults.


Rush Limbaugh
Remember, my friends: The Seabirds used to be in the AFC, where they won zilch. Now, in the John Kerry-like NFC, they make it to the Super Bowl??? Take the Steelers, lay the 4.


Clifford D. May
My wife is a Pittsburgher — I prefer the term Pittsbourgeois — so rooting for the Steelers is mandatory. My in-laws have bought the kids Steelers t-shirts, Steelers sweatshirts, and, I believe, Steelers underwear.

We’ll watch it at home and I expect there will be chili, Rolling Rock Beer, and Primanti Bros. sandwiches. No Starbucks coffee allowed. (It’s overrated anyway.)

I’m always particularly eager to watch the commercials, to see what messages the corporate communications honchos have decided are worth $2.6 million a pop.

Yes. Yes. You’re all incredibly butch and you’re drinking Rolling Rock and high-fiving your white-bread friends (except for those times when you awkwardly miss and then mentally debate on whether you should give it another shot) because the Steelers are going to win since Seattle is all Brokeback Mountain and designer lattes and John Kerry-like and shit. Of course no one mentions that the Patrots from Gay-marriage-achusetts have won three of the last four years.

Brian Reidl, on the other hand, goes off the Pittsburgh plantation…but keeps his he-man street cred:

Brian M. Reidl
Like any good Wisconsinite, I’ll take my football with bratwurst, cheese, beer, a cheesehead, and a Brett Favre poster, watching Green Bay’s former championship coach and their former back-up quarterback win another big game. Seattle 23, Pittsburgh 20.

I see indian burns and swirlies in his future at the next NRO get-together.

Latte-drinking pussy…

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