* Enjoying the Super Bowl with family at their house: $2.39 for the gallon of gas it takes to get there and back.
* Thirst quenching six pack: $7.89 plus tax, plus deposit.
* Watching your five-year-old son during halftime bounce around the living room, arms waiving, chest puffed out and imitating the Rolling Stones? Mick Jagger: Priceless.
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Most Thankful Realization of Super Bowl XL: Your five-year-old son could have waddled around the house, singing off key during the National Anthem, pretending to be Aretha Franklin, but didn’t.
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Antidrug message you too can use to keep your children on the straight and narrow:
‘Kids, see those guys bouncing around on stage, waiving their arms, puffing out their chests and singing, they’re called the Rolling Stones. If you take drugs, you’ll look like them.?
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Class act of the Super Bowl: Jerome ‘The Bus? Bettis announcing his retirement from professional football with the Lombardi Trophy in hand. His last bus stop, his hometown of Detroit.
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Worst Part of Detroit hosting Super Bowl XL: The ending. Can the love between Detroit and the ‘burbs continue without a Super Bowl?
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Was it me, or was the officiating less than super? Not that I am complaining . . . I won my bet (read further).
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After watching Super Bowl commercials, I want to adopt the little Clydesdale horse who could (pull the big Budweiser wagon). I also want to live in the apartment where the fridge magically appears on the wall full of beer.
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Worst commercial — Cadillac and that model catwalk thing. What a build up for . . . a very expensive SUV that isn’t very exciting at the gas pump.
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Another Super Bowl commercial — you heard it hear first, the fake Australian who acted in the Outback Steak House ads will be the actor who portrays Mick Jagger in some TV drama about the rock star. He will spend four hours a day in the makeup chair to get that ‘aged? look.
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Worst Parenting Act: Before the Super Bowl betting your eight-year-old son that the Pittsburgh Steelers would beat the Seattle Seahawks.
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Second Worst Parenting Act: Collecting bet from eight-year-old son after the Pittsburgh Steelers thumped the Seattle Seahawks, 21-10. (Relax, it was only a quarter.)
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Best joke from late night TV talk show host Jimmy Kimmel while he was in town: ‘I forgot there was a Super Bowl going on, and I booked my room too late . . . But that’s OK. I’m staying in Aretha Franklin’s bra.?
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Nothing to do with the Super Bowl . . .
Okay all you automotive engineers out there answer me this: why is it that on every car I have ever owned (all American builds) the driver’s side wiper always pukes out and not the passenger’s side?
Is it a function of the wiper blade arm, the shape of the windshield or the motion of the motor? WHAT?
Answer this, and other little annoying questions, and I bet sales would steadily start rising again.
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Does anybody, anywhere in the reading audience have any doubts that Islamic fundamentalists are whack-out, antisocial near-do-wells? Come-on — killing, injuring and destroying all based on a political cartoon that ran in a Danish newspaper?
The great part about being in a religion is, if somebody else isn’t in the club, they go to hell, you don’t. So, what anybody else thinks is really irrelevant.
Until folks in Islam root out their own, the world will not give them the respect they deserve.
Comments for the tactless Mr. Rush can be e-mailed to: dontrushmedon@charter.net