Every year, in early to mid-February the last football game of the season takes place. Only people can’t call it by its actual name since it’s trademarked by a certain organization famous for downplaying head injuries and until recently outlawing gambling. What if everything else containing the words super or bowl followed the same “Big Game” rules of engagement. Ignore for a moment the euphemistic malaise necessary to employ such a phrase. Why isn’t it called other stuff like say, The Large Competition, The Enormous Thing or That Stupid Turf Match? And why hasn’t someone slapped a T and M on the B and G yet? Either way, such a world would look a little something like this…
Where you wouldn’t eat breakfast out of a cereal bowl, you’d eat it out of The Big Receptacle.
There would be no talk about life being a bowl of cherries or any other plain fruited approximation. It would be more of a simple Drupe Container, large enough to hold the weight of your existential angst.
You don’t go bowling with friends after work, but Ten Pinning – so long as you’re wearing special Traction Shoes.
Fish don’t swim in manmade fish bowls, after movie posters and dart boards a key component of standard bachelorhood décor, but rather, Water Boxes.
Punch bowls don’t have to worry about buoyant excrement, Juice Dishes do.
Clark Kent isn’t Superman; the Big Guy is. Or is that God? Neither have superpowers though. Those are “magicforces.”
Super Glue isn’t used to repair antique trinkets. That’s done with Amazing Adhesive.
This all sounds pretty super, right? Well, not to bowl you over, but it’s actually quite stupid.
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