|The original side eye.|
What, do I seem like a crank because I'm against chronic traumatic encephalopathy and I begrudge a certain team their support of a white-supremacist regime? So sue me. "Please don't," the kids say, when their father and I enter into conversation
about the Patriots, and what properly is the role of a responsible citizen who has the attention and devotion of the entire country focused on him. "Not again." I'm never, like, in love with the Super Bowl. But this year? With the Muslim ban and Bannon and Sessions and the Dakota pipeline and no Jews on Holocaust Remembrance Day and fighting with Australia
with every allegedly American value, like the rule of law, just as a for-instance, hanging in the balance, or not even hanging in the balance as much as tipping, tipping, tipping us all, scrambling, like the Titanic passengers bouncing along the length of the ship on their way to the icy depths? I can't believe they're even following through with the stupid Super Bowl. Luckily Frederick Douglass is still alive. And luckily, the party I'm going to on Sunday has an upstairs group of cheering glazy-eyed concussion lovers, and a downstairs group of board-game-crushing nasty women who will boycott the thing until the Hamilton cast is on, and then our boycott will enjoy a brief hiatus, because we are only human, and we deserve a little pleasure. Also, snacking.
So. In the interest of everyone who's gotta eat, and who might as well eat delicious munching food, I offer you a few old favorites. I love you. xo
The best ribs.
The best chicken wings.
The best nachos.
The best crudites.
Vegetarian chili for a crowd.
People-pleasing enchilada casserole.
Comforting mac and cheese.
Dill pickle popcorn.
Fake, cheap DIY Boursin.
Crazily good deviled eggs.
Momofuku soy sauce eggs.
Jicama that will get finished before anything else.
Weirdly addictive tortilla pizza.
I was just looking for the timing on the Schuyler Sisters' singing America the Beautiful. It's going to be before the game, and before the nat'l anthem.ReplyDelete
I am hoping for the slim chance that the Pats get overcome.
THIS. Thank you. XOReplyDelete
We love you too!ReplyDelete
I love you all! Esp my contemporary Frederick Douglass! :D Original side eye cracked me upReplyDelete
Thank you for this, Catherine. Rather than formulate my own Super Bowl feelings, I'm just going to copy/paste yours -- because they're identical!ReplyDelete
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Thank you for being there with the just-right words at every stage. This stage leaves me speechless and I appreciate your way with words even more.ReplyDelete
well said! crazy times... a food focus is one way to get through a day. thanks as always for your post!ReplyDelete
Thank you for sharing these words -- you've expressed my feelings so much better than I have been able to over this fortnight. I can't even tell what a Patriot is suppose to be anymore, so this Super Bowl match up is excruciatingly ironic. You helped me keep up the fight today. To the marathon!ReplyDelete
Yes to all of this. You are my favorite person in all the internet. I cannot comprehend that there are people out there who think everything is right on track. Thank you for this. If you lived in the NW, I would bring you to my nasty women group. We have wine.ReplyDelete
It's like you crawled into my brain, jotted down my thoughts, and posted them here. Thank you!ReplyDelete
Love you! Love your every word. Wish that we could pipe you from the top of a flower-painted van that drives the streets of this country, brainwashing its people into becoming decent human beings. What is this "super bowl" everyone speaks of anyway—some kind of quinoa/kale/sweetpotato/tofu concoction? For the first time ever the football game was turned on in our house—my kids rooting for the Falcons, hoping to annoy all the patriot fans at school—but I sent them off to bed at 9 and turned the station to "Victoria," because monarchy seems like such a good idea right now.ReplyDelete
And I love YOU. Thank you for this. I am so paralyzed by the whole fucking thing, I can't even blog anymore. And it's not the baby's fault! All he does is sleep! Sigh. xoReplyDelete
Aaaaand just when I thought I could not love you more, there is this! I'm so with you! Stay strong!!ReplyDelete