I’ve got some disturbing news for you. Kansas City is loaded with New England Patriots fans.
Even worse they all sent me ugly emails. For loyal readers, you may remember that two weeks ago I wrote a column about how I was boycotting the Super Bowl due to Patriot ennui.
Well, apparently Patriot fans in KC have very tender feelings and are a sensitive group (cry babies) that can’t handle someone expressing anything less than a hard-core devotion to their team. OMG the emails were brutal and hilarious all at the same time. They were also all from men based on the email signatures.
One email had a lengthy paragraph that detailed why I was “what’s wrong with America.” Another Pats fan accused me of being a “libtard” and a few more went full caveman and tried to explain to me how being female means I don’t know enough about football to be expressing my opinion.
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The ones that made me feel sorry for the writers and sad that I couldn’t help them get the mental health care they so desperately needed were focused on my relationship with my father. Yeah, I know that’s confusing. So, just in case you missed my Super Bowl column I wrote about how my beloved deceased father was the biggest Pats ever and yet I couldn’t bring myself to watch the Super Bowl this year.
This brought out the “shaters” (shamers + haters) who with a great amount of glee told me my father “deserved better,” that he was “probably embarrassed I was daughter,” and my personal favorites a flurry of “I’m sure your dad hated you” emails with a couple of shots at my personal appearance.
Yes, all of this fury because I had declared I was boycotting the Super Bowl and full disclosure I did call Belichik a “constipated grandpa.” Maybe that’s was triggered these emailers over the edge to free-fall into an abyss of insanity. I just hope that the people that wrote me are back on their meds and receiving an updated psych evaluation.
But, and you’re not going to believe this, that wasn’t the worst part. Because the Maroon Five fanatics I ticked off were just as crazy as the Patriot loyalists. I happened to mention that the half-time show was probably going to be worth missing. My exact words were, “You’re that excited about Maroon Five? That’s awkward for you.” And did I say that the show would be an “over-produced dumpster fire with confetti cannons.”
Well, hell hath no fury like a Maroon 5 fan. Not since I wrote about the Rolling Stones concert in 2015 in less than rainbows and unicorns prose have I been on the receiving end of so much venom. To these people I suggest that you go get an Adam Levin tattoo and calm yourself.
Despite the shaters I feel totally justified in what I wrote. It’s like I was predicting the future. Was the Super Bowl boring? Yes. Did it have low, low ratings? Again, yes. The lowest in almost a decade. Was the half-time show a joke? The answer to that is yes excluding the opinion of Adam Levine groupies. Critics and people with full use of their corneas are calling one of the worst half-time shows in the history of the Super Bowl and that’s even with Levine taking his shirt off.
I know that by writing this it will only agitate the crazies who have already reached out to share their special brand of correspondence with me and that’s OK. If sending me a hate laced email makes you feel better about yourself, I’m glad I can be there for you. P.S. Go Chiefs!