Assuming we have one reader in Pittsburgh, congratulations! Your crew of heavily-muscled, phenomenally wealthy athletes managed to put the ball in the end-zone more than Arizona's bird-themed posse. Now go flip over cars and get maced as your forefathers once did!

And how am I supposed to tie this into my contractually obligated gaming-themed scribblings? If only there was some kind of "game" named for an obese network television fixture, based on the "sport" America has spent all day glorifying...

Failing that, let's replace Ben "Severe Head Trauma" Roethlisberger with an orc:

I'd offer a deep, scathing look at the socio-political implications of elves and skeletons playing football, but like Christians who only attend church on Christmas I've spent the day lying about my allegiance to whichever team had most recently done something awesome in exchange for Vodka shots.

In short: I just puked on my keyboard.