One of the painful joys of 24 hour death ray media is 24 hour sports media. In comparison to the rest of the universe, sports are fairly simple. So eventually they run out of shit to talk about. So what do they do? They essentially make shit up. They get offended at each other, and then spend a great deal of time talking about how they’re offended.

Are you offended? Huh? Who the fuck are you? They’re offended. You don’t matter. You’re not a brilliant journalist like them. Your purpose is to sit there and watch them talking about how offended they are. Independent thought is not required. Just keep eating, watch their wisdom, and shovel your cash in their direction.

So Tony Dungy and Jerry Jones and Stephen A said things considered offensive to the sports media. And since the sports media has had their righteousness assaulted? They get to talk about it. All day. Apologies are demanded, justice is on the horizon, and, wait, no, wait none of that happens.

They just need controversy. They need a cause. What are sports? Uh, well, I guess it’s talking about how a fellow sports broadcaster talked about something. So you talk some about that. How you’re offended. So you talk about that. Lots of talking.

I’ve just consulted my Arcturan dictionary. The definition of stupidity is apparently an internal media dialogue where a sports journalist gets offended by something another sports journalist said. According to the dictionary it is, “the most senseless and worthless of human acts since the invention of disposable robot giraffes”.

So let’s go ahead and put these guys & gals inside the trash compactor from Star Wars. Together. While they’re bitching about their situation, screaming at each other about how offended they are with their situation, the rest of us can get back to watching the game. And eventually, via the trash compactor’s ability to effectively implement the laws of physics, the problem will take care of itself.

If asked to define his occupation during the Apocalypse Judgment, what would he write down?