Nearly 180 million people are expected to watch the Super Bowl this Sunday. I'm not sure I'm going to be one of them.
You read that right. A red-blooded American male isn't interested in watching the biggest of the big games.
Oh, I'll probably check out a few minutes, if for no other reason than to see some of the commercials. But as far as sitting down for a pre-game to half-time-show to trophy presentation marathon, count me out. I'm sorry, but I just don't care.
For starters, it's the last day of the big horror convention in Atlanta, and I plan on being there, buying out-of-print DVDs and rubbing elbows with B movie stars.
Secondly, there is the disappointment of the Falcons coming up short. It's hard to get excited about a championship game when you know the Home Team should've been there. (And us Georgia fans have been through that twice this year.)
Perhaps most importantly, I can't stand either team.
The 49ers have been on my list since they were the Falcons' division rivals back in the 1980s. All that old hatred came rushing back during the NFC championship game. Plus, I'm not a big fan of their coach, and just to pile it on, I'm a fan of the woeful Raiders, San Francisco's cross-bay rival.
And as for the Ravens, I've never liked them. I never liked how owner Art Modell abandoned Cleveland. (For that matter, I never liked how the Colts sneaked out of Baltimore.) But mostly, I'm tired of Ray Lewis.
If he had shown us the missing white suit without a drop of blood on it, then maybe I might care about his farewell tour. On second thought, probably not.
I will admit this: Ray Lewis is a shining example of what's possible in America, because here and only here can you be on trial for murder after one Super Bowl and be the MVP of the very next Super Bowl.
Plus, he is now accused of taking some sort of banned substance made from deer antler extract. I can't begin to imagine how that even works. We have a saying around the hunting camp when people start talking about how they want to kill a big buck: You can't eat horns. But apparently you can.
As for the halftime show, I don't care a thing about Beyonce. I know the NFL and TV people want a younger audience, but I'd rather bring back The Who or the Rolling Stones again.
Finally, viewing conditions may not be optimal. Apparently, there is a shortage of chicken wings. I don't know if those guys accused of stealing $65,000 worth here in Gwinnett might have contributed to the shortage or if they were worried about it and decided to stock up. Either way, what's the big game without a plateful of hot wings?
So, if you expect me to have a long discussion over the water cooler on Monday about the game, it's probably not going to happen, unless they find a way for both teams to lose, which is what I'd like to see happen. Then again, it is the Super Bowl. Maybe I'll watch just a few minutes.
If I can find some chicken wings.
Email Nate McCullough at email@example.com. His column appears on Fridays. For archived columns, go to www.gwinnettdailypost.com/natemccullough.