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  • For nearly a generation Hank Williams Jr. sang “Are you ready for some football?” every Monday night.
    And then he didn’t.

    Apparently he made a political comment that went against the public position of the National Football League.
    He was out.
    Whether he quit or was fired, he and his song were gone.

    In the grand scheme of things, it made no difference to the game.
    But I wondered what kind of thought process was behind it.
    They hire a known rebel, whose lyrics about rowdy friends were applauded and whose nickname was Bosephus (A descriptive term for a large breed of devil dog) and then dare to be offended when he proves to be a rebel. Were they that asleep at the switch?

    Or did they just need an excuse to make a change because they felt his song had grown stale? That’s a rhetorical question because the answer is as obvious as ugly on a pig.

    Then they brought in Pink for Sunday night football and I was enchanted. She was outrageous and full of energy; a force to be reckoned with. I could hardly wait to see what Monday night’s opening would bring!

    Nada! Nothing!

    The Monday night party was over. They must have figured they had enough rowdy friends. They were trying to change their image; appeal to a more mature crowd.

    And after a while they deep sixed the fabulous Pink on Sunday night and had an “older” more sophisticated and less life-like Faith Hill sing Pink’s song – badly.

    Lot’s more glitz and production; lot’s less energy and attraction. Maybe the older fans liked her better, but not me and I’m sixty-four. Just how old are they?

    Now, they have this fat “Hammer” wannabe rapper dressed like a Pom-Pom singing “hit it”. What a joke.

    Bring back Bosephus, the hard drinking, rowdy rebel for the Monday night opening.

    And bring back Pink, the sexy tattooed lady with attitude and charisma for Sunday night.

    They both make me smile.

    And shove your sophistication! This is a barroom brawl not a Society Do’. It has more in common with the Roman coliseum and the Gladiators fighting to the death. It’s a blood sport like kick-boxing and bullfighting.

    The spectators want outlaws to egg them on.
    Not a face lifted Barbie and the silver Pom-Pom.
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