Favre....

Favre...

It was with a small bit of relief that I read the news, this morning, that Brett Favre had signed with the Jets.

Not because I'm a fan of the Jets, or even of Mr. Favre. Mostly, it's because I'm worn out of the whole subject.

In any sport, be it baseball, football or nude busty curling, I'm not a big follower during the offseason. I'm vaguely interested, but unless it's a game, that counts, during the season, I could take it or leave it. And when it's forced down my throat (like the NFL's draft, or the Hot Stove anywhere from the end of the Series to Opening Day), it wears me out.

Add to all this, I've viewed the whole Favre/Packers thing the same way I would the marriage of neighbors who share a wall with you. I'm relatively fond of the Packers. I'm relatively fond of Brett Favre. Kinda like I'd be relatively fond of the aforementioned, hypothetical couple next door....

I vaguely like them both, and it's hard to separate them in my mind, since they share an identity. However...when they fight...and fight...and fight, screaming at the top of their lungs, hurling insults and (on occasion) asking me to take a side?

Fuck that.

After a while, it gets to be too much.

Shut up.

Quit arguing.

Leave me be.

I just want a moment's peace. You're throwing what should have been an internal situation out for the world to regard. And the truth is? The majority of us don't like you enough to truly give a damn one way or the other.

And while it's sad, in a way, to see the marriage end....you're just happy to have a little bit of quiet for once.

At least now, I can watch my SportsCenter in peace.