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The Tragedy of MNFW Syndrome

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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.”

So in point of fact, it has become thoroughly un-American to eschew or fully and completely “refudiate” promiscuous, gratuitous, no-strings-attached sex; or to avoid or not to view pro football and especially Monday Night Football at all; and perhaps most importantly, and the most un-American activity imaginable—to eschew and “refudiate” entirely the consumption of Big Macs.

The Latin, scientific term for this last-cited thoroughly un-American abomination is:  dysmagnus-Mac-us-voremania Depravitas.  Its literal translation:  the utter, irrational hatred of eating big Macs, utter-depravity, mental-psycho condition.  The first two conditions are primary indicators of an un-American mindset and attitude, but to refuse to eat big Macs, or to ridicule, demean, and/or repudiate them, is a tell-tale, dead giveaway for anti-Americanism and/or un-American activity.

You don’t like gratuitous, promiscuous sex, I can sort of understand that.  You don’t like pro football and MNF, well that’s just venial, I can ultimately forgive this very pardonable sin—but you won’t eat a Big Mac, well that’s proof positive that you’re a damn un-American, anti-American, commie-lib qua commie-symp qua liberal progressive qua socialist qua communist qua Marxist enemy o‘ the peepels what hates America.  Won’t eat a big Mac?  Well that’s not only sacrilege, it’s also totally and completely un-American!

But back to my own personal addiction with its added affliction from MNFW Syndrome.  How will I possibly survive and overcome this great and terrible disease?  Very simply stated, by participating in lots of gratuitous, no-strings-attached, promiscuous sex and by eating lots and lots of Big Macs, that’s how.  The only problem here is that both of these cures are extremely fattening.  But that’s simply the price one must pay to be a true-blue, loyal, and patriotic American.  So bon appétit e mangia bene.  And may my dick not fall off either.

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About Irvin F. Cohen