Vol 111 no. 997
Happy Mid-Winter to all of you who are freezing your patoots off.
Shall I make you want to shoot me? It's 75 degrees right outside my front door, a lovely breeze is coming through the windows, a full sun hangs in the sky with lacy clouds waltzing by, and it's a three-hour drive to Lake Tahoe to magnificent skiing. As Sheldon says, neener neener . You're in New York and you say it's 1 degree right outside your front door? Would you believe me if I said I feel your pain?
Shall I make you want to shoot me again? I went to Super Bowl 50, no, really, and it was 75 degrees and gorgeous and there were gold fireworks everywhere and the Blue Angels flew over and I didn't see much of Beyonce because the big end zone screen went on the fritz, but that didn't matter because a nice man shoved a stadium hot dog in my hand and the Bronco defense won the game against the Panthers so Peyton can now retire, riding out on a cloud of glory, just like his boss, John Elway. Ain't life grand?!
Do you wonder how I managed to crash the Super Bowl? You know my new publisher is Simon & Schuster and guess what? CBS owns Simon & Schuster and CBS sponsored the Super Bowl and CBS gave my new publisher and me the golden tickets. When I mentioned this to friends, relatives, readers (I tried to do it humbly -- neener, neener), everyone expected I'd be high up in the clouds in a fancy box eating low-fat caviar and drinking Dom Perignon. Wrong. It wasn't low-fat caviar. All right, all right, our tickets were in the End Zone -- however, they were excellent seats, right in the middle. All bliss.
I hope everyone had a blissful Valentine's Day --