Max Super party

Hello and welcome back to the Dogpound world where we pause a minute in silence to commemorate the passing of football for another season.  I am writing this on Friday before the big game…the Super Bowl game… a game that almost stops the world for a few hours on Sunday.  This year I have no real vested interest…none of my teams made it to the finals.  I just hope that it is a good close game that goes down to the wire and of course those commercials better be darn worthwhile for the dollars spent.  Now it is important to note that you just might want to record this game because with all the attention to concussions and injury to the football players (it is rumored that the government wants OSHA to step in and dictate new safety rules) we might not see another professional football tackle in our life time.  I mean they already have the quarterback protected in a flak jacket with rules that say you better not hit him in the head or below the knees…well, in actuality you just cannot hit the quarterback very hard at all in fear of getting a 15 yard penalty or tossed from the game.  Pretty soon you might see these rules applied in some fashion to the other players as well.  For example, if a player leaps into the air to catch a ball you cannot tackle him till he has landed and then you can only grab him in a bear hug.  If the runner is running along the side lines…you can only push him out of bounds with one hand…no tackling.  Then of course for all punt and kickoff returns…you cannot tackle the runner…you have to touch him with both hands and yell “Tag out!”   I think you get the idea.  I think OSHA is already working on safety rules for boxing…think I heard something about using feather pillows instead of boxing gloves.  I can hear the announcer now…”Oh my…what a pillow uppercut …feathers are flying everywhere!”

“To some folks, standing in the presence of greatness, means standing alone.”             
– Dogpound Wisdom


After a close friend moved away, we began to communicate by computer. We met each week in her favorite chat room and would type for hours. One night, I had a high fever and swollen larynx and felt too sick to chat, so I dashed off a brief note canceling our cyber-plans, and I then fell exhausted into bed. My friend seemed upset when I phoned her a few days later. “If you don’t want to go on the ‘Net with me,” she said, “just say so.” Perplexed, I retrieved the last e-mail I’d sent her. It read, “I won’t be able to talk to you on the computer tonight. I have laryngitis.”

As always be good, play safe and remember it is only a game.  

JR and Max


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