Jim: Welcome back to the inaugural Superbowl W, live from the heart of newly minted Woketown, USA—the city where even the street signs are open to reinterpretation. And a quick word from tonight’s sponsor, Interpretive Driving Auto Repair, reminding everyone that “Stop” is a relic of authoritarian overreach and outdated power dynamics. Anyway, tonight’s showdown features the Inclusivators and the Pontius Pirates in what promises to be the crowning achievement of the Nebulously Fair League—formerly the National Football League, before hard rules were deemed patriarchal, tyrannical, and frankly, a microaggression against creativity. I’m Jim Patterson, your narratively impartial sports pronoun-cer, joined by Tom Billingsworth. Tom, how are you identifying today?
Tom: Thanks, Jim! Today, I’m identifying as a "Free-Range Observer" to honor the limitless possibilities of this sport. It’s a perfect day for football, er—(chuckles)—I’m sorry, feelball—at least, it would be if no one feels triggered by the competition.
Jim: Careful there, Tom. I hear they’re docking pay for anyone who defaults to the "f-word" without filing the proper linguistic evolution form. You might also get sent to the Inclusion Timeout Room. Remember, it’s feelball now—because hands are just as important as feet, and we wouldn’t want to perpetuate any podiatric privilege on the field.
Tom: Good point, Jim. Last thing I need is another week of Inclusive Terminology Training. Those breakout sessions on pronoun neutrality in sports really challenged my sense of self... but I emerged stronger—and more emotionally validated.
Jim: Glad to hear it, Tom. Now, let’s dive into this game—or should I say, this consensual experience of mutually affirming physical expression. The weather is cooperative, though some fans in the stands have already filed grievances against the weather organic entities for not adequately representing overcast communities. Let’s talk about the game—or rather, the experiential journey unfolding before us.
Tom: Right you are, Jim! The teams are circling the Equality Zone now—or attempting to. The Inclusivators have paused to hold a mindfulness circle to reflect on whether forming a traditional huddle reinforces patriarchal power structures.
Jim: And look at that—the Pontius Pirates have preemptively apologized for their aggressive mascot, a canceled cartoon character from the 90s, who they’ve replaced with a holographic "spirit of accountability." Bold move.
Tom: Indeed, Jim. And here comes the snap—or the consensual handoff of the spherical unit! Wait, the quarterback is taking a knee—not to protest, but to reclaim his right to redefine what "standing" means to him.
Jim: The defense seems unsure whether to rush, retreat, or simply journal about their feelings regarding the play. And now the running back is taking the ball—excuse me, the "freedom orb”—and making a dash! But oh no! He’s stopped by his own teammate, who felt the run wasn’t tolerant enough of slower players.
Tom: Incredible teamwork, Jim. And now the referees have called for a "Moment of Awareness" timeout to ensure the field’s yard markers aren’t reinforcing systemic distances between players.
Jim: Speaking of distances, the Pontius Pirates are now challenging the concept of "yards," arguing that measuring progress in standardized increments is an outdated construct of colonial oppression.
Tom: A stunning argument, Jim. Meanwhile, the Inclusivators’ quarterback has proposed a points-sharing system, so both teams feel equally validated in their efforts. The refs are deliberating, and—yes!—the proposal passes unanimously. Where the score was just 7-0, both teams now have 3.5 points, ensuring fairness.
Jim: Beautiful sportsmanship, Tom. Now the kicker—sorry, the "velocity facilitator”—is lining up for the extra point. Oh no, it veers off into the stands! But wait, he’s filing an appeal claiming the goalposts are centering binary success narratives. The judges agree—the kick is declared transcendent and worth 10 points!
Tom: Brilliant, Jim. And now for halftime, we’ve got a must-see event: a spoken-word performance by the world-renowned Ambiguity Ensemble, followed by a roundtable discussion on whether cheering too loudly could marginalize introverts.
Jim: And don’t forget the Feelball Trivia Timeout, where fans can test their knowledge of meaningless stats like, "How many yards—or feelings—were gained during last season’s most equitable game?”
Tom: Can’t wait, Jim. As we head into the third quarter, we remind everyone watching at home: feelball isn’t about competition. It’s about validating your truth on the field, one ambiguous play at a time.
Jim: Well said, Tom. Stay tuned, or don’t—it’s all about your personal journey. Coming up next: the players will embark on an epic quest to redefine winning in a universe where anything is possible—except declaring it’s possible, because that would be an absolute, which is absolutely forbidden... unless we’re redefining absolutes, in which case, who knows?
[Jim’s phone rings.]
Oh, hang on. [Pause] Sorry folks! I guess I’ve just been fired, but not to worry! After all, what does “firing” mean anyways?!
And there you have it—a world without universal truth, where every tackle is a debate, every rule a negotiation, and every play an existential crisis. This is what happens when we trade the firm ground of objective reality for the quicksand of subjective whims. Without truth, we lose the game entirely—not just the rules but the very meaning of why we play. Left unchecked, this absurdity either leaves us a basket case, rocking in the corner, muttering incoherently about lived experiences—or it forces us to rise, get into the game, and reclaim the truth we all know deep down can be found.
And with it, we rediscover the beauty, the clarity, and the freedom of a life rooted in reality—one where the rules matter, the goal is clear, and the victory is real.
United with you in pursuing a world predicated on truth in love,
Greg Schlueter
GregorianRant.us