To think our broken Federal Government has come to an agreement quicker than the NFL v. NFLPA lockout situation is disturbing and down right laughable.

Welcome everyone to the battle of the portly pink elephant versus the multi-colored jackass.

I mean, it’s not as if we are talking about the ideologies of de-ghetoization, illegal immigrants, or education.  We are talking about a players union (David) who have no respect for the womb of resources– rather, the deep pockets who fund the league in which the players dwell in. Likewise, we are also talking about a group of spoiled owners with so much money, that hundreds of millions of dollars to toy with a franchise is nothing. It’s their version of the penny slot machines in Vegas.

If John Boehner and his circus of right wing combatants can calm the Pollyanna backwardness of the Tea Bagger Association of Mars, and then BS their way enough to squelch the over-yakking Pelosi  co.of closet Republicans, to an agreement that changes the lives of, well, nobody, then I think it’s fair to ask the players and the owners to give up on this grade school tug-o-war.

38 billion. Are we serious?

Lay off teachers, unions workers, and while you’re at it, God for that matter.

Yea God. Dude doesn’t need to work.

But no, oh no, don’t even think about cutting a military with a budget  five times larger than any country in the world, two gallivants into the Middle East costing us now over a trillion dollars, or tax cuts for the likes of P-Diddy, who buy million dollar cars for their children on their sixteenth birthday’s.

That would be too much to ask.

Instead we have the trickle down theory–a pretentious puppet act. Wealth+more wealth=cars, boats, and hoes. Haven’t we learned this yet?

This NFL lockout situation is beginning to mimick an affair in the House of Reps so much, I am awaiting the day Fox News buys the rights to Monday Night Football.

Can you imagine listening to a game conducted by Rush Limbaugh? “What a hit by Brian Urlacher! Sort of like the smack down the KKK gave the wannabe free blacks of the fifties.”

This hard hitting sport with a nice size paycheck at the end of it, promoting the warrior mentality of the individual, and the ancient need to be crowned champion, is lost in the fray of fragmented politics.

No, the owners do not need any more money. Most of these men and women are life long billionaires. The kind of people who wipe their butts with twenty four karat gold toilet paper.

But neither do the players need to act like anything other than what they are…David. Most of these men would be working 9 to 5 gigs in the real world, where the rest of us day dream all day about getting paid to play a game.

So we fiddle with Farmville, imagining the day Zuckerberg chooses to start a league of his own.

Which isn’t going to happen. Farmville is not necessarily a hot bed for self-made millionaires.

And neither is a victory on the players side. I resent the fact that our free trade, dog eat dog capital corruption, has deterred the populous from grassroots movements and civil disobedience. We’re so tied to the buck ourselves, that we swirl into the corruption as well.

We’d rather put on the candy coat of Opera, glossy smooth shine of instant tanning oil, than we would, actually make a long lasting change.

So play some damn football.

When it is all said and done, eighteen games will be on the schedule. Players will reap a small percentage for their extra work, and the owners swelling bellies of wealth will continue to grow.

On that great day, Plaxico Buress will be throwing a party with a cake in the shape of Ronald Reagan. And Pacman Jones will be conducting a music video starring Lil Weezy, and Bill O’Reilly.