I'm a Bad Boy 'Cause I Don't Even Miss Her

Congratulations to Ms. Stacy Villescas and Mr. Joseph Halbert for correctly naming "Boys of Summer" from the Don Henley album Building the Perfect Beast as the Friday Song of the Day. Thanks are also in order to my Dad and John Middleton for the Don Henley-related trivia. If a celebrity is from East Texas, he or she is going to get the 5-star treatment here at Running Down a Dream.

Speaking of "Running Down a Dream", the editorial staff would like to thank Mr. Tom Petty for the plug tonight during the Super Bowl XLII halftime show. You'll note that we did not have to pay a hefty $3 million for a halftime plug, but merely convinced Mr. Petty and The Heartbreakers to play our namesake tune in return for a YouTube plug. Here you go, Tom.

Oh, you also want to talk about that game that also occurred on either side of Mr. Petty's performance? I can do that as well. For a game that was largely forgettable through the first 3 quarters, that final quarter was probably the most intense 15 minutes of football that I have watched since the 2006 Texas-USC Rose Bowl matchup, and we're talking about a game that featured the hated New York (Football) Giants and the Great Satan.
I'm not sure what the collective reaction in your locale was to the escape by Eli "Harry Houdini" Manning from Pats' pressure and subsequent heave downfield to an obviously living right David Tyree, but everyone around me screamed things at the television that looked something like this:

"Icantbelievewhatjusthappened!!!"

"HowdidEliManningdothat?"

"WhatkindofdealdidDavidTyreecutwiththedeviltomakethatcatch?"

"Whyareweallyellingatthetvscreenoverteamswenormallyhate?"

(Yes, we were in the "talking so fast so that all of your words run together" mode.)

As 85% of you then witnessed, Eli Manning heaved a pass to the corner of the endzone into the waiting arms of Plaxico Burress, and millions of yet-to-be born children in the New York-Connecticut-New Jersey tri-state area will be saddled with names like Plaxico Wasserstein because of that famed connection.

In the end, Eli Manning stood as the Super Bowl MVP after outdueling Tom Brady, and I am currently eating a nice baked serving of crow for all of the grief that I constantly piled on the youngest Manning brother. Frankly, I'm expecting to walk outside right now and see a flock of pigs winging through the sky in a perfect "V" and cats living with dogs in perfect harmony. It's true, my friends. Hell has frozen over, Satan (not the Great Satan) has pulled out the tire chains, and everyone is stockpiling canned goods.

As someone once said, "It's not the end of the world, but I think you can see it from here."

I would write more, but I need to do little checking to make sure that the Sports Guy and Joey Halbert have not done anything rash after the Great Satan's once perfect season fell apart like a tumbleweed in the Arizona desert. In fact, Joseph summed things up well when he told me after the game, "How the mighty have fallen. Karma is a cruel, cruel mistress."

Too true, Joseph.

Too true.