Clinton, South Carolina, Saturday, February 4, 2017, 9:43 a.m.
The weather has cooled, though it’s still a poor excuse for winter. I just got through playing “Facebook Friends” on my Pawless guitar. Earlier this morning, I wished a few of them – the Facebook friends, not Pawless guitars — happy birthday. I had almost exactly the same breakfast I’ve had every morning since I got back from Kentucky. It’s likely it’ll be pretty much the same tomorrow* unless I throw carbohydrates to the winds and drive out to the Hardee’s drive-through for a two-for-one biscuit deal.
That usually occurs only on mornings when I’ve run out of eggs. The only way I won’t have eggs in the morning is if I make egg salad for the Super Bowl, and why would I do that? I’ll be watching it here all by myself.#
I watched a fascinating singer, Valerie June, on CBS Saturday Morning. I’ve been watching Aerial America for the past few minutes, struggling to come up with something in this blog that might be interesting to someone other than me. Perhaps it’s time for a break.
It’s the pre-Super Bowl lull. The morning shows have previewed the commercials. Everyone has cracked on Media Day. The New England Patriots are paying a usual visit; the Atlanta Falcons are paying a rare visit. All time’s MVP, Tom Brady, versus this time’s MVP, Matt Ryan.
In any given year, the people watching the Super Bowl mostly don’t care who wins. It’s rare when one’s favorite team goes unless, of course, one is a Patriots fan. Both teams usually fall in that great range of teams one respects but doesn’t love. That’s why the commercials seem so important. I’m not too much into commercials, even Super Bowl commercials. Last year I spent a lot of them checking on something else, like what Charles Laughton was up to in Witness for the Prosecution.
TCM is running a series of Oscar-winning films in alphabetical order. In about 30 minutes, this blog is likely to take a break because Bound for Glory is on. The “Fox Super Bowl Pregame” begins at 1 p.m. Sunday, and the game should end at about 10:30. During that span, TCM is screening, in order, Camelot, Camille, Captain Blood, Captains Courageous, Casablanca, and Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.
This is why I might miss most of the commercials again. If the Super Bowl isn’t close at halftime, Casablanca might keep me away for a while.
David Carradine as Woody Guthrie beckons.
I found Bound for Glory, which I hadn’t watched in its entirety in decades, inspiring.
Did I then concentrate on the Georgia-South Carolina men’s basketball game? No, though it’s on TV.
I wrote a protest song, of course, or more than half of one. It could be complete, but I’ve got at least another verse or two of heartburn to get out and off of my chest.
I’ll probably never memorize it because I can’t think of a place where I could play it. Not here in town, anyway. I might could get away with it in Columbia or Greenville, or wherever else around here liberals are found.
Maybe I should watch the rest of the basketball game.
Yes. It’s Super Bowl Sunday. The game begins shortly after 6:30, at least if one believes his DirecTV cable guide, a dubious proposition. The pregame shows – “Road to the Super Bowl,” “Skip and Shannon: Undisputed Super Bowl Special,” “Super Bowl Kickoff,” and “Super Bowl Pregame” – begin at 11 a.m. Never mind that the kickoff should not be before the pregame.
I suppose that watching all this foolishness would not reduce the need to watch the game, but I don’t see how many people could maintain their concentration for the game if they watched all the advance foolishness.
So I won’t. It’s my patriotic – and maybe my falconian – duty to occupy myself with reading, writing and music between now and the game. It’s no wonder people watch the commercials.
I’m tempted to wonder if I’ve gotten too old to appreciate the Super Bowl and to look back on the days of my youth when I could breathe it all in.
Never has there been such a time.
I may have the pregame shows on – just to confirm my intense dislike for the style of Skip Bayless – but I expect the college basketball games will get my slightly less mild attention.
This is my first-ever blog written over two days.
I’m not particularly proud of it.
*As it turned out, Super Bowl Sunday became an All-Pizza Day, beginning with microwaved pepperoni.
# And too much pizza.
If you’d like me to mail you a signed copy of Cowboys Come Home, or any of my other novels, you can find my address and instructions at montedutton.com. (montedutton.com/blog/merchandise)
I’ve written five novels and a collection of short stories. I’ve also written a number of books about sports, mostly about NASCAR. You can find most of them here.
The Kindle versions of my books, where available, can be found above. Links below are to print editions.
My new novel is a western, Cowboys Come Home. Two World War II heroes come home from the Pacific to Texas.
I’ve written a crime novel about the corrosive effects of patronage and the rise and fall of a powerful politician and his dysfunctional family, Forgive Us Our Trespasses.
I’ve written about what happens to a football coach when he loses everything, Crazy of Natural Causes. It’s a fable of life’s absurdity.
I’ve written a tale of the Sixties in the South, centered on school integration and a high school football team, The Intangibles.
I’ve written a rollicking yarn about the feds trying to track down and manipulate a national hero who just happens to be a pot-smoking songwriter, The Audacity of Dope.
I’ve written a collection of 11 short stories, all derived from songs I wrote, Longer Songs.
Follow me on Twitter @montedutton, @hmdutton (about writing), and/or @wastedpilgrim (more opinionated and irreverent). I’m on Facebook (Monte.Dutton), Instagram (TUG50), and Google-Plus (MonteDuttonWriter).