I can't believe that I read the whole thing. +1

No kidding, I've been singing this at co-workers all day, damn them. I'm quasi-reliably informed that Steve Allen (!) would hum this while shuffling papers as host of the Tonight Show.

Very nice - and a timely reminder of a favorite piece of vinyl:

An all-retro evening here at Feet Towers; see what those chemicals do to you?

I thought that the Zamboni driver taking a selfie was disrespectful.

Olympic water - it comes in gold, silver, or bronze.

Hosted a Super Bowl party, did you? How many of these showed up?

Just arrived for the SB pre-game party, and had been wondering all along which dips would be served. Turns out we're getting Reuben sandwiches and Beck's Dark. Somehow, I don't give a tinker's about dip anymore.

And the container is attractive, too.

That first guy is going to have to dig his way out of the 'Hawks prediction, somehow...

The opening of today's 10 AM (Eastern) SportCenter was a two minute voice-of-doom speech detailing the thoughts of an individual piece of confetti during and immediately after the Super Bowl. No, I am not making that up. And, presumably, someone got paid to write that. Man, am I in the wrong line of work...

Peter King let it drop that he has a hall of fame vote. Who would have guessed? Also, this:

Man, I want some lobster bisque right freaking now!

You have just insulted tiling grout.

Has anyone else noticed that Emmitt Smith played QB for Dallas in SB 28?

Cretins, all of you.

But I suspect that most of you are just looking forward to a drink or two,

Slightly off-topic, but we're going to a Super Bowl party/potluck on Sunday and have been asked to bring a dip and a bottle of wine. I asked Mrs. Feet (who knows zip about football) what she wants to bring. Answer: "It depends; what color is their carpet?"

I have to tell you that Pledge has been an absolute godsend on my engineered hardwood flooring. Now, at 3 AM, when the cats are having their nightly game of Nuclear Tag, they sprint into that room and fly across that floor like it's a well-buttered ice rink, crashing, helpless, into the wall unit on the far horizon.