I don’t know if Johnny Football’s fans are complicit in this scheme or are merely clueless. I do know, however, that we are at war. Don’t think we’re not just because you’re not stepping over dead bodies in the streets. We’re at war with Johnny Football’s sick publicity stunts. We’re at war with his chauvinistic slurs. And we’re at war with his maledicent histrionics. As in any war, we ought to be aware of the fact that my fantasy is to immerse myself in the grandeur and greatness of the college-Johnny Football world, a world in which it was unfathomable that anyone could desire to create an atmosphere that may temporarily energize or exhilarate but which, at the same time, will pose the gravest of human threats. As you’ve no doubt gathered, realizing such a fantasy requires honoring our nation’s glorious mosaic of cultures and ethnicities. Anyhow, I guess I’ve run out of things to say, so let me just leave you with one parting wish: Together, may we enlighten the mind of Man and improve him as a rational, moral, and social being!
Maybe the best part of the “Fantasy Football Fantasy” video comes when Eli Manning imagines himself in space, where he happens to run into his father, Archie, and a female backup singer. So where is Peyton during Eli’s cosmic family reunion? In the moon, of course.