Well, I wouldn't gripe about four more wins to finish the regular season. And if the earth is feeling generous, I'll take a 40 inch pike on one of my traps this weekend...
While I'll be punching holes on my favorite early-ice spot down the road this weekend, breathing in the crisp-ness, the blessing that is a real winter, the Packers head the other direction, down to Detroit where they're too embarrassed to show up and support their team. Bunch of knuckle-heads, them motor-city jabber-wockies. The Lions are prepared to use a silent count - at home - since there will probably be more rambunctious Cheese-heads in the crowd than any-thing. That tells you all you really need to know about the Lions. It's sad, really. Just imagine once the Vikings get moved out to sunny Los Angeles, then we'll get the Ram-horns and we'll have two JV squads in our division. I'm not even sure that's good for us. It certainly isn't any-thing to get excited about. Four automatic wins each year, sure, but four garbage match-ups to watch as well.
Ah, but who am I kidding, dear readers? I don't need 16 (or 18) nail-biters every season. I'm already nervous as a cat on an ice-berg.
Lots of folks I've run into around the town - at the grocer, while banking, out shoveling the walk-way - seem to think we're in for a trap game here. I know where they're coming from, we've had a few Thanksgivings spoiled in recent memory, but I'm not worried. We're either gonna face a third-string QB or a youngster who's been nursing a sore torso for most of the season. Here's a reality check for the worry-worts: We've got a damned good defense. Cover Mega-tron and they can't hang with us. Ronnie Rodgers is gonna burn that defense up so bad they're gonna feel cold. Like ice.
You ever see that program? I saw it once back when they first came out with full-color-television sets. Whoa baby. Cousin Walter was, of course, one of the first on the block to adopt the new technologies. Ike wasn't even born yet. There was this program about a cave, and a dragon in that cave, it breathed fire so hot it turned any-one who entered his lair to ice. Who could imagine such a thing? Good Lord, dear readers. I'm gonna have night-mares just thinking about it again. I guess that's sort of like getting wind-burnt while ice-fishing, though. You don't notice it out there, even in the shanty, and then you get home and look in the mirror and there's a goofy-looking lobster staring back atcha. Hello, good-lookin'! Don't pinch me!
Well, I suppose I oughta go shovel the steps off, and then I'm pouring myself a Golden Grahams* on the rocks, sit around the wood burner and maybe read some Steinbeck. Hope you all stay warm, but not so warm so as to get burnt!
Let's mark it, folks: Packers 35 - Lions 10. Until next time, then,
FG
* - Honey-flavored whiskey plus boiling milk and a hand-ful of Golden Grahams cereal pieces. Use responsibly!
