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We can't understand why this nation spends so much time hyping the Super Bowl. It really doesn't make a difference who wins. America isn't football; America is hops, barley and wheat. That's right, beer.
That's why we won't be paying that much attention to Sunday's game at the Superdome. Come on, John Elway vs. Joe Montana? Who really cares? Besides, I (Julio) can't stand either team. Elway looks like Tom Cruise on acid. Even though I (Jen) think Jim Kelly is the greatest quarterback in the history of Western civilization (yeah, right, Julio says), Montana is kind of cute.
Okay, cute may be marketable. But even I (Jen) admit cute takes a back seat to good beer (me too, Julio says).
We believe in America and what it symbolizes. We believe in the idea of real competition between two hungry, mean teams ready to knock each other's heads off. In other words, we believe in Bud Bowl. And this time, it's war.
Beer and sport. Sport and beer. Apple pie and Chevrolet. Who could ask for anything more?
A 13-point line Super Bowl? A travesty. Pathetic. If the Bills were in this game--that is, if Ronnie Harmon hadn't been such a loser against the Browns--the 49ers would move to another continent. Jim Kelly is a god. Jim Kelly is a god...
Jim Kelly is a jellyfish. (This is Julio speaking.) He should have thrown the ball to Harmon on the last play. Wimp.
But back to Bud Bowl. Bud Light will last twice as long as those overweight Clydesdales who wouldn't recognize good beer if someone put a cold keg up to their noses. (That's Jen).
Oh yeah, let me (Julio) just remind everyone who the King of Beers is--Bud. It's beechwood aged and doesn't taste like bad seltzer water. Bud. What a name. Bud Light. Sounds like your neighbor's 16-year-old kid with acne who likes listening to old Led Zeppelin albums.
Jen--Bud Light 42, Bud 14.
Julio--Bud 27, Bud Light 26.
Enjoy your commercials.
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