***** Admin Note *****
Today ushers in the 400th post on this site. Not a man of big celebrations, it does make me think back to the days where I was grinding hard, trying to make a name, and posting all by myself every single day.  We’ve come a long way!

– SBM
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What you are about to read is not rocket science nor the most original thing you’ve ever read/seen in your life, but given the time of year and the fact that BP III has finally been released by the artist that actually created it, I feel obligated by my duties as officer of the Cocksman’s Court to give everyone, especially the ladies, a bit of a reminder.

Each season has their particular perks; spring and summer bring out the sexy summer dresses and rooftop parties, and winter gives you the opportunity to break out dope ass jackets, coats, scarves and other accessories (depending on where you live of course).  The male species however, identifies the seasons by the sports that are on the tube.  Spring is marked by March Madness and the summer has Baseball season (aka Yankee season) and the winter is time for the NBA, which is all very exciting. (I’m sure there are men out there that know when exactly Hockey season is, but I don’t know any Canadians that can help me with that.) Fall however, marks the beginning of the single most important 17 weeks of every man’s life.  I am of course speaking about the holiest of the holy, the great sport of American football.

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With the exception of college basketball, baseball and basketball seasons are long enough that guys can miss a game here or there and still not feel like it’s the end of world, because you know towards the end of the season and during the playoffs they’ll be able to see at least 2-3 good to great games a week.  But there is no room for error during football season.  Every single game is important. Even if your boo’s favorite team is playing the NFC East punching bag Washington Pushovers Redskins, that doesn’t mean the game has no consequences.  The evolution of fantasy football has deepened the importance of being glued to the tube every Sunday from approximately 1pm to 11pm.  College football has a relatively short season as well, but even Telemundo shows college football games, so it’s hard to miss a college game, therefore not as serious.  The NFL however, is all most men live for.  Sh*t, I’m sure even gay men get excited for football season.  I mean, Serena Williams is the only reason I watch women’s tennis, so I would imagine dudes of the other persuasion would enjoy football.

Like I said in the beginning, this is common knowledge to anyone that has a pulse in America.  But somehow it seems that some women have the uncanny ability to find a way to interrupt this holy day.  Why in the world would you think I wanted to go to the chick you envy your best friend from Sunday School’s housewarming this Sunday, when I’ve been talking about watching this game since the damn schedule came out.  Don’t get me wrong, we can still communicate with one another during a game, but if I just dropped my L and my snifter of Jack Daniel’s and the announcer sounds like he’s having multiple orgasms, now is definitely not the time for that “you don’t pay me enough attention” tantrum, nor is it a good time for any activity outside of my domicile that does not involve me holding an alcoholic beverage in front of a device that  broadcasts a NFL game.  Unless you are about to die, now’s not the time. (And had you sat your ass down and watched the game, you wouldn’t be in this near death situation.)  I don’t interrupt during….during…umm…well, whatever the hell it is you watch, so why in the world would you think now is a good time to engage in some sort of distracting activity?   And just so I don’t have a post that doesn’t get me called a misogynist, I’ll point out that doing the nasty or any doing the nasty related activity does not count as distracting activity.  That’s just the way it works.

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So as we draw closer to another sacred Sunday, please ladies, be mindful of how important this is to us.  Yea, we might give in to your asinine distractions from the grid iron glory, but please believe every time you prevent us from watching football counts as a demerit which we vividly remember around Christmas time if you make it that far.  Just don’t rock the boat.  If you’re not a sports lover or don’t understand the game, give it a shot anyway. You may even get lucky and see a “Real” Housewife of Atlanta or New Jersey in the stands wearing her husband’s signing bonus on her wrist.  Grab ya man a dutch and a bag of chips on your way home, and just let him have his 10 hours of bliss.  And for the women that bring their boo a fresh rock glass of Gentleman Jack or Guinness at the end of each quarter, may the Lord richly bless your soul.

Wondering who to start in fantasy football,
RightCoastLexSteele, But Not Right Now