Remember when we were young–probably elementary school age–and an authority figure would try to get a big group of us to be quiet? At the time it seemed like the best idea, if you wanted to help quiet everyone, to scream “SHHHHHHHHHHH!”, right? Well, as we all now understand, that’s a terrible idea. All that you really do is add to the din.
Of course we understand this now as adults. Adding to the noise is rarely a good thing.
So then tell me, dear friends, why you think I give so much as one minuscule fraction of one teeny bit about what you think of Brett Favre’s latest assault on our football sensibilities?
What makes you think that I want to open up my Facebook news feed, or my TweetDeck, or my Google Reader and be bombarded to the nth degree with stale, hackneyed Favre musings?
Right now, the only thing more ubiquitous than a Favre update are the most annoying reminders from everyone with column, Twitter feed, Facebook page, blog or loud voice that they’re sick reading and hearing about Favre.
Here’s some news for you: no one cares. Here’s an opinion for you: I wish you would shut the heck up.
And that goes for all of you. I don’t care if you’re a daily columnist that has had a by-line in some reputable production since 1973. Shut up. I don’t care if you’re a 36-year old woman that can only connect with your cheating husband by watching SportsCenter with him while he thinks about his secretary and you’re “SO SICK OF FARVE FOR ALWAYS TRYIN’ TO GET ATTENTION HE’S SUCH A JERK!!!!!!3!!!!!1!!!!!!” I’d rather your marriage end than hear about it.
This is the fourth summer that this has happened. You probably sent the same tweet, or had the same Facebook status, or said the same things to your co-workers at the bar last year. And you know what else? You probably did the same thing the year before that. And you know what else? I hate you. I hope the bartender poisoned your drink. Or your bar stool breaks.
I’m sick of the fact that you’re sick of Brett Favre. Because here’s the thing: there is no such thing as a fresh Favre opinion. Here’s another thing: there’s no such thing as a Favre opinion that I haven’t had put in my face by a local columnist, shoved down my throat by your sister-in-law and then washed down by Jeff in accounting.
I’m done with it, because all that I hear is “SHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”