In 1985, a great travesty was afflicted upon this nation. I am speaking, of course, of the discordant din that bled forth from our radio speakers, piercing the ears of the nation's youth, insinuating itself into their brains, and poisoning their minds.
Some people called it "The Superbowl Shuffle."
I call it "Six Minutes of Hell."
As an aside, let's not ask my wife what she calls "Six Minutes of Hell."
Anyway, if anyone has every been curious as to how some gangly kid from northeast Indiana could become a Green Bay Packers fan, this is it. Before this travesty of ear rape was unleashed upon the greater masses, prior to this cacophony of musical masturbation, I was fairly ambivalent toward professional football. After being constantly assaulted by this auditory pack of Dickwolves, I knew only one thing: I would, from henceforth, hate the motherfucking Chicago Bears.
Because of my location, most of my classmates climbed aboard the Bears' bandwagon that year--you know, like most Bears fans--and this song was played, over and over and over. Ad nauseam, which is Latin for "I'm going throw up if I hear that fucking 'Super Bowl Shuffle' one more time!" Just searching for it on the interwebs has incensed me in ways that I didn't think possible, or at least in ways that had slumbered deep within me since...Thursday afternoon.
And so, if you must know, gentle sportsfan, why it is that I am a Green Bay Packers fan, this is it. I knew nothing more than that I hated the Bears. In order to make that hate deliciously complete, I sought out their greatest rivals and rooted for them. The hapless Lions couldn't allow me to fully embrace my hatred; no more could the Minnesota Vikings, though I would pull for both teams against the Bears.
The logical answer to my Bears hatred was the Green Bay Packers, and this was long before Purple Voldemort poisoned the air with his camera-whoring and 5,000 season-ending interceptions. Before the Ole Gunslinger was out there, like a kid, just having fun. Before the Packers even remembered that there was a post-season. I rooted for them.
And so that's why, this weekend, this Sunday afternoon, my hatred will be focused like a finely-honed blade, focused solely against Jay-sus and his band of soft-brained miscreants, this wretched hive of scum and villany. Oh sure, it was nice to see the Packers destroy the Vikings and Purple Voldemort twice this year. It was delicious to see their season implode. It was most satisfying to see him slink off into the sunset, his tiny peezer between his legs, but all of that will be moot come Sunday afternoon. Then it will be full, unadulterated Bears hate.
And I'll be saying this. Early and often.
Pronounced: "Foo-too-ee-tay Oor-sohs!"
Aside from the football team, however, bears are pretty fucking awesome.