Frazier, Depression and The NFL

I'm like a little kid at the beginning of football season. (Some would say I'm like a little kid most of the time, but as Woowoo Charly likes to say about herself, "I'm child-like not child-ish, so, yeah, I'll go with that.) I just can't WAIT for that first Bronco kickoff. Today is Wednesday and the Denver Bronco season starts tomorrow at 9:15 P.M. My inner brat is seriously tempted to hit the sack early and thus encourage tomorrow to get here sooner. I'm thinking right after lunch would be good. Besides, I'll need to be well rested for that 9:15 kickoff because that's past my bedtime. Fortunately I have this to do and then I have to, I mean I just HAVE to, make some progress on another writing project and then there is the bar to keep my mind occupied and off the blankety blank Oakland Raiders. That's building a bar, not going to one. (But now that I think of it...no, nevermind.)There has been some football on the tube this week, college ball. To me that's like an hors douvre, an appetizer leading up to the main course, the NFL. The En-ay Ef-ay El-ay as they say here in Panama. College ball fans would understand what I'm talking about it they had to watch high school football for a week leading up to their season. What's worse for me this year is that I NEED the NFL to get me out of my deep, dark, two and a half day old depression. You see, what's happened is Channel 212 has dropped Frazier reruns in favor of My Wife and Kids. I'm completely crushed.

Every weekday at 10:30 A.M. I interrupt my mad scribbling to climb aboard my Elliptical Strider to burn calories and laugh my ass off at Frazier, Niles, Roz, Daphne and company. I wish I could laugh my belly off, but alas, it's my ass that disappears. Maybe I'm peddling wrong. I have frantically surfed about for an adequate substitute, sampling Wife And, Loves Raymond, the Queens King and Belucci, and even though all these shows feature hot wives married to funny guys, they just don't compare with Frazier for laugh a line entertainment. Niles alone is good for another inch off my backside! So by now, the third day sans Frazier, the depression has grown to an epic proportion rivaling that of years past when the Broncos were routinely crushed by ever increasing margins in Superbowl after Superbowl. The only thing that saved me then from selling my soul to the Devil and becoming a Raider or Yankees fan was the hope and optimism for the coming season. Now, with Frazier probably gone for good, I don't know what I will do. The NFL needs to arrive in a hurry. My depression and my ass are growing exponentially.