I personally know whereof I speak, for I must confess and admit that I personally suffer from MNFW Syndrome. And let me tell you, dear readers, that MNFW Syndrome is truly tragic; in fact it is crushingly debilitating and both physically and psychically traumatic. So what, pray tell already, is MNFW Syndrome? Well, simply stated, it is “Monday-Night-Football Withdrawal Syndrome.”
Now I know there are many of you who are quite cynical and skeptical and downright jaded, who think MNFW Syndrome is a joke and consequently trivial, frivolous, and unimportant. Well, au contraire mes bons amis.
You might mutter to yourselves as you read this very heartfelt and most painful confession and testimonial of mine, “You damn ball-less wussy...man up, damnit! Will yah?"
Well, it’s 9 p.m. on a MNF-less evening, the very first of these for the next seven months or so, so I guess at the very least I’ll just have to do without—and go “cold turkey!” I know, I know, it’s not all that terrible—but easy enough for you to say, damnit! Will somebody bitch-slap me, please. Cause I just can’t take it anymore! Oh, the horror, the horror, the horror!
I know, I know—I got to man up, I got to grit my teeth and stiffen up the spine and get some testosterone-filled ‘cojones.’
But again, dear readers, in my defense, as you all well know, that’s much easier said than done. Because MNFW Syndrome is an addiction just as serious and severe, destructive and debilitating as any other addiction; just as personally devastating and individually crippling and dehumanizing as crack cocaine or black tar heroin or crystal meth (and of course, jaywalking and post-modernist, constructionist and deconstructionist, wanton obscurantism; which so many pseudo-intellectual writers, commenters and editors of Blogcritics daily practice ad nauseam).
In fact, American culture and civilization has very much changed in recent decades so that the seeming ancient mantra of “as American as motherhood, baseball, and apple pie” no longer applies; it indeed and in fact is thoroughly anachronistic and passé. For now the mantra is “as American as gratuitous and no-strings attached, promiscuous sex;" and also "as American as mindlessly viewing NFL and MNF football for hours upon hours and days upon days;" and also "as American as consuming Big Macs and massive amounts of deeply, deeply fried foods washed down with millions upon millions of gallons of beer and/or fancy drinks with miniature umbrellas for the ladies.”
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