Superbowl Weekend

I walked into the local grocery store today and they were out of pigs in blankets. I have a rule, there can be no Super Bowl party without pigs and blankets, but shhh, don’t repeat that to my cardiologist. I wonder what he’d think about a cousin of mine who serves cocktail weenies, or as I like to think of them, pigs without blankets. Are they healthier? Anyway. back to my cardiologist, he’s a subscriber but he never reads this stuff so I think I’m safe.

Super Bowl parties have two kinds of people: 1) The ones who are big football fans all year long and can’t wait for the championship and 2) the ones who are big fans of parties. And never the twain shall meet. One time, many years ago, I went to a Super Bowl party when my beloved Giants were playing. I turned to somebody at the party who was paying attention, and said, “Can you believe they went for it on 4th and 1? He had no idea what I was saying. I was home by halftime. My wife opted for a friend to drive her back home after the game.

The other thing about Super Bowl parties is the commercials. The non-football fans stop talking and gather around the tv for commercials and the halftime show. That’s about it. And here is the thing about being a football fan like me or John, while simultaneously being ad guys, or more in touch with the times, ad people. Come to think of it, it’s a good thing Mad Men was set in an age before political correctness. Mad People just doesn’t have the same ring. But back to the part about being in advertising. Since the party tends to quiet down and pay attention to the commercials, they then invariably turn to people like John and me and ask, “Whaddya’ think about that Dorito’s commercial, and then you have to think of something to say that sounds really smart and insightful, “Yes it was a very funny premise, but do you remember what product it was for?” That always impresses.

Hope you have a great Super Bowl weekend and that your favorite team wins,

Andy and John

Winter Wonderland 2/5/21

Newsflash: it hasn’t exactly been the easiest winter. Now in addition to Covid and Marjorie Taylor Greene, we had a huge snowstorm, another is on the way, and Tom Brady is back in the Super Bowl. Yeah, that Tom Brady. In a pathetic attempt to be topical, your intrepid cartoonists decided to do a Super Bowl comic this week and another about shoveling snow. First of all, it’s important to note that we have entirely different perspectives on the aforementioned Tom Brady, The GOAT (Greatest Of All Time). While I am a Giants fan and we beat Tom and the Patriots not once, but twice, in two Super Bowls, John is a Jets fan and they have had decidedly less success against Mr. Brady. Secondly, through a weird glitch in the universe, both my children were born during Giants Super Bowl winning years, although not against Brady. So the inspiration for watching with your baby comes with experience. Truth be told, it was John’s suggestion, even though it was my experience. My solution, back in ‘86 and ‘90 was to offer my wife the following deal, “Honey, I’ll watch the baby (and in the case of our second child {the kids} all day), but when it comes kickoff time, I’m off duty.” And since my wife doesn’t really care about football, she was only too happy to comply. Now back to the comic. It is my contention that John has been psychologically bruised by having Brady and the Pats beat on his beloved Jets time and time again. So it was no accident when he thought it would be funny to have the baby spit up on his Tom Brady jersey. I don’t think that makes up for all the beat downs but hey, every little bit helps.

Now onto the second comic. I have a friend who is a stand-up comic and writes for Jimmy Kimmel. She once said about Facebook, “They should call it In your Face… Book.” You know, people telling you how much better their life is than your life. How great their vacation is, their relationship is, their kids are, etc. Well that’s kind of the way it is with a lot of snowbirds. I can’t prove it but I have a sneaking suspicion they get a little kick when it’s 78 degrees and sunny outside and they’re lounging in the pool with a pina colada, while we are shoveling 18 inches of snow off our driveways. The reason I suspect this is because that’s exactly how I’d feel if I’d have been smart enough to move someplace warm. And why is it that we Northerners can come up with no better excuse than, “We like the change of seasons?” Don’t get me wrong, the change of seasons is nice, but so is watching the Super Bowl from a hot tub, while nursing a beer and cigar, like I did a few years back at my cousin’s house in Florida. After which, my wife and I flew back home and enjoyed the hell out of the rest of the winter.

That’s it for this week. And before signing off, I’d like to celebrate the life and times of my mother-in-law Charlotte Bluestone, a selfless, loving soul who passed away at the age of 99 1/2 years. You’ll be missed. We will be back to you next week with two new comics. Thanks for reading.

Andy and John