"Enough Already!!"

Here's a news flash for all of you...the 43rd edition of the National Football League's championship game is scheduled to be hosted in Tampa this coming Sunday. Personally,I'm about over it.

Unless one has been sequestered in the increasingly long lines at the local unemployment office without benefit of access to newspapers, radio, or television, one has had no choice but to be inundated in the metropolitan Tampa area with the ceaseless hype that is relentlessly on-going with this event. Touted as the biggest annual sporting event in America, the weclomed economic impact on any city that host this event is incalculable, but the time and effort expended to promote this extravaganza boarders on near hysteria. The game itself and the two teams who are slated to compete in it are almost relegated to the status of secondary importance, so wrapped up are the media types, government dignitaries, the whose-who of the social elite, and the myriad of commercial establishments, big and small, who fawn over and gravel at the feet of the mass influx of supposed celebrities that flock to this event for no other reason but to see and be seen...

As an example, consider the poster child for narcissistic, self-absorption, Sean, a.k.a, "Puff Daddy, P. Ditty, Diddy Combs, whose apparent claim to fame is being famous for merely being famous, who blew into Tampa this morning at 1:20 a.m. to host his own Super Bowl party that began hours earlier, claiming his untimely delay was due to "traffic." The traffic in and around Tampa can be horrendous, but at 1:20 in the a.m., I don't think so. Still the faithful "beautiful people" welcomed him as though he was a returning conquering hero, salivating at his mere presence in their otherwise unworthy midst. Rumor has it that Paris Hilton will also grace us, the great unwashed, with her effervescent and vapid presence. I am agog and spellbound by the mere prospect!

Here's the bottom line.... I am as big a casual sports enthustiast as the next guy, and I look forward to the actual game. However, I could care less if Bruce "The Boss" Springsteen offered to perform a private concert in my living room, or Linsay Lohan promised to do our laundry for a month. I have no interest in rubbing elbows or any other part of my anatomy with these types of individuals who bring nothing to the table for societal consumption but an unquenchable thirst for baseless recognition. Let the teams take the field, play their best, and then everyone go home. Enough is enough already.