A re-post from 2021. I have for years avoided watching any part of the Super Bowl because it subsumes individuals into a baying mob. This is un-American. When people surrender their individual selves they lose the capacity to think. This year it is a matter of hordes of people who feel - hardly think - that the game is rigged by the Democratic Party (I repudiate both parties, btw) as part of some bizarre plot to give the autumn election to poor old Mr. Biden. They have also accused a pleasant and apparently apolitical musician of being a part of their demented fantasy. It just won't do.
I apologize for the probably unnecessary exposition.
Super Servile Sunday
O sink not down to that corrosive couch,
Docile before the Orwellian screen
That regulates the lives of the servile,
Dictating dress and drink, demeanor, dreams
Declare your independence from the sludge
Of vague obedientiaries who fling
Away their empty lives in submission
To harsh, diagonal inches of rule
Poor weaklings chanting tainted tribal songs
In chorus hamsterable, huddled, heaped
While costumed in their masters’ liveries
And feeling little while thinking even less
The very model of the State’s non-men
Predictable and dull, submissive ghosts
Crowded, herded through cosmic cattle chutes
Reflected in dim, noisy nothingness.
But you…
But you, O you, be not of them, but be
A wanderer in the moonlight, one known
To God and to His holy solitude.