Let Us Proclaim The Mystery Of Faith

A hippie walked past my house the other day carrying a tie-dyed futon mattress, inspiring me to chronicle this, perhaps the final chapter in the career of the greatest human being that ever lived, Brett Favre. In fact, as strict Packer moralist when dealing with issues related to this individual, I shall not again call him by his earthly name, much as some followers of Islam forbid the visual depiction of their Prophet, but shall instead refer to him as 4.

I bumped into an old friend of mine, former Bush administration Deputy Chief of Staff Karl Rove, in the lavatory at the airport in Minneapolis flying home from Game 1 of the Northwoods League finals and bounced my blog idea off him over a couple Manhattans. He flipped, promising to give me some ink in the memoirs he's currently writing. Karl's a great guy and a huge football fan; he's always reminded me of LBJ's old chief of staff, Walter Jenkins. And anyway, he owes me for picking up all those flyers about McCain during my fucking vacation in Hilton Head during the 2000 campaign. So, hey, with that kind of unbeschränkte Gewalt on my side, who am I to question the will of God?

My only credentials are that I'm a fan and have managed to set up a blog. Plus I watch a lot of film and go to all the games, I suppose. I shall deliver no news, but rather will report on the season as I experience it - the games, the tailgates, the team, the rock & roll that serves at its soundtrack. I've lined up a host of contributors who promise to chime in with a column or two over the course of the season.

My opinion about the team is that we could be seriously going places this year. We're young and talented and have shown real hunger on D throughout the preseason. I'm completely worried about the offense. I love Kool Aid Man (James Jones) but I've seen WRs flash in the preseason before and not be worth a warm twelver of Hamm's once they started keeping score (see also: The Bill Schroeder Award). I can certainly see what they like about Brandon Jackson but he seems fathoms away from being able to handle the tasks assigned to an NFL starting back at this point.

This also is starting to seem like the year, even more so than 1994, that one could credibly imagine 4 being replaced as a starter at some point if things aren't going well offensively. I'm currently rewatching all of the 2006 season and one thing that really sticks out on offense is how many balls 4 flat out missed last year. I've been extremely down on Aaron Rodgers in the past but he has scored many brownie points with me this preseason, a significant bonus to which was awarded for his sensational Fu Manchu. My unwavering faith remains with 4, though, don't worry - I'm still the same guy that named his four daughters Brittany, Breleigh, Favre, and Kiln (who reports her first week of kindergarten's been a little bumpy since'n she's had to explain a zillion times why her name's pronounced 'The Kill').

Next to the uncertainty on offense, one of my bigger concerns about the state of the Pack is the creeping belligerent ignorance of its fanbase. I've always felt Packer fans' football intelligence was grossly exaggerated (anybody who has ever been to a game and seen the Lambeau crowd start the wave while the Pack were on offense can attest to that), but the disgraceful draft day behavior of Packer fans as the Justin Harrell pick was announced at the Atrium, the inexplicable booing of Kurt Schottenheimer at this year's scrimmage (I'm still not sure what they were so frustrated about - was it that Charles Woodson merely had eight picks?), and the overall criticism of Ted Thompson's rebuilding strategy have brought real shame to the Packer family. Is that a consequence of Mike Sherman's calamitous stewardship, or a symptom of the greater ESPN-ization of sports fandom? We'll discuss as the season progresses.

One thing I do know for sure is that God will make certain the Packers are well taken care of since He loves the Packers the best. America too, for that matter, and the Pack are America's Team and all that. So whether it be giving Nathan Poole his career highlight to clinch a meaningless win in the desert or flattening an apartment building full of children in Qana, the Lawd sure takes care of His own and I expect nothing less this season.

On gamedays, we party up over at Kroll's on the west side of the stadium, and I take my place in the stands under Paul Hornung's name. Used to be Jimmy Taylor's, a change I was bummed about at first but grew to realize was more appropriate for us anyway, which will soon become plain to you after you hear our tailgating tales.

I gots to run because the Percocets are starting to kick and I've got to work on the words I'll be saying at Hilly Kristal's funeral, but I promise that as long as they keep brewing Point Beer I'll file a weekly report during the season.

mp3: Rolling Stones - Criss Cross Man

mp3: Scout Niblett - Dinosaur Egg

mp3: The Last Poets - Niggers Are Scared Of Revolution

mp3: Eddie Rabbitt - Drivin' My Life Away

mp3: Don Majkowski - Every Rose Has Its Thorn