Turn Out the Lights, the Party's Over. 02/13/26

The last football has been thrown, kicked or fumbled. The last runner has been tackled, or has broken away for a 60-yard touchdown, the last pass interference penalty has been called until next fall. For some, it’s thank the lord. For others it’s time for FW, or Football Withdrawal. When Monday Night Football debuted in the ‘70’s, one of the commentators, Dandy Don Meredith, a former quarterback for the Dallas Cowboys, would sing, “Turn out the lights, the party’s over,” whenever a game was out of reach for one of the two teams. This was revolutionary back in the day, when it was thought that acknowledging the fact that the game was over would cause people to turn off the game. As if they wouldn’t have done that already.

But as the clock wound down to the final minute of a boring, one-sided Super Bowl, that song from Dandy Don played in my head. Turn out the light, the football season is over. All the plans, the get togethers, the attending of games or going to family or friends’ houses to watch, all that came crashing to a halt. But first the Super Bowl and obligatory Super Bowl party. It’s about more than the game. It’s an excuse to eat all the stuff you’ve tried to avoid all year. We invited a neighbor and our son. The healthy part included crudite with a pureed vegetable dip which was barely touched. The rest was stuff I’m not supposed to indulge in due to (pick one) maintaining a healthy weight, a family history of heart disease, two stents, etc, etc. So we kept it healthy with buffalo chicken wings, pigs in blankets, pizza (both plain with basil and sausage and mushroom), beer, tequila, and, oh yeah, a salad with pine nuts and creamy balsamic vinegar. That was as good as the game was bad. Our neighbor and my wife left after dinner not five minutes after the game started. My wife, because she had a meeting and doesn’t give a damn about football and our neighbor, who had no meeting but also doesn’t give a damn about football. In an ironic twist, John and I thought up and wrote the comic about friends leaving early, weeks before the Super Bowl, so this was merely a case of life imitating art.

So how does a football nut replace Sundays, Monday nights, Thursday Nights and my favorite, a special Saturday edition of Thursday Night Football? I didn’t make that up. Amazon Prime did. Am I supposed to watch curling? The biathalon? The new season of the PITT?

I like the PITT but the … Spoiler Alert … I could have done without the scene of the old woman with impacted bowels, a moment I still can’t get out of my head. With no more football, John and I will tackle (sorry about the pun, couldn’t help myself) new subjects. Until then, we hope these comics and blog will help kickoff (ugh, make it stop!) a great weekend.

Andy and John