Pinter Explains It All

I think it is our duty as a blog to enrich your lives, especially on a Friday. With that in mind, I offer you a poem. Now, I thought long and hard about how best to bring erudition to the huddled masses. Perhaps a missive about Bagpipe rape? No, I think we need a poem to explain football. My friend Ben was kind enough to send me the poem after the Superbowl. I really think it distills this most American of games into it's purest form. I give you American Football, by Harold Pinter.

American Football (by Harold Pinter)

It works.
We blew the shit out of them.

We blew the shit right back up their own ass
And out their fucking ears.

It works.
We blew the shit out of them.
They suffocated in their own shit!

Praise the Lord for all good things.

We blew them into fucking shit.
They are eating it.

Praise the Lord for all good things.

We blew their balls into shards of dust,
Into shards of fucking dust.

We did it.

Now I want you to come over here and kiss me on the mouth.

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  1. Patrick says

    That doesn't represent the appeal of football at all Ezra. We have cleverer things sitting in the comment spam filter.

  2. says

    It's like the mirror opposite of "You don't like football? Faggot."

    Ezra, don't misunderstand me; I'm not one of those people who looks down on other people because they don't like the sport. I readily acknowledge it's not for everyone and it's silly to judge people for those reasons. I detest when people do it, and think it cheapens what I love about the sport.

    But this poem? This poem is about those people, and not the sport. If the author intended it to be about the sport, he is off the mark.

  3. says

    Knowing Harold Pinter, he was probably intending this as a comment on American society and culture, as reflected through football, not so much about the game itself.