The Rant wonders if we could just rename the iPhone the Narcissism Machine. The slo-motion selfie, or slofie, as Apple insists you say as they desperately work to trademark the term, brings self-absorption to dizzying new levels. Hailed as utter nonsense by digital mavens upon its unveiling in September, in typical internet fashion the digital mavens have now announced we can’t live without it. The Rant suggests tech writers simply begin their articles by ridiculing the latest ego-pimping innovation and then end the article by praising it to shorten the life-cycle of our inability to say no to anything that advances our cries of “Look at me, look at me!” even further. Teenagers, celebrities, and white rich people everywhere thank you.
Did you know Kansas City had reached the Super Bowl?1 We’re just asking for a friend. Ok fine, The Rant has waited fifty long years for this moment. The Royals drought between World Series wins felt briefer than a Trump cabinet member being appointed and then resigning compared to this. The Chiefs cycled between abject awfulness to tantalizing teasing. And let us not forget their infatuation with San Francisco 49er cast-off QBs, reaching its acme with Joe Montana and ending with signing anyone that had once visited Fisherman’s Wharf. This included William Devane look-alike Steve DeBerg and a quarterback named Elvis (Grbac), who turned out to be the equivalent of Vegas Elvis singing “American Trilogy.” Nice try with your what-about-Todd-Blackledge ploy. We’re not taking the bait.2
The Rant came of age during the Marty Schottenheimer era, a man that believed running off the left hip of the center instead of the right constituted offensive innovation of the highest order. The Chiefs were constructed to build your hopes to a crescendo in the regular season and then destroy your faith in a benevolent universe in the playoffs. We routinely failed to score even ten points in a playoff game. Now the Chiefs offense doesn’t even get interested until down by ten or so to make the game slightly more challenging.
Our otherworldly quarterback, Patrick Mahomes, uses his powers for good not evil, unlike certain pretty-boy QBs marrying supermodels and wearing Uggs (in the name of decency, get a soul). Honestly, we don’t even know how to behave with all the good fortune. But we’re trying to stay humble and give back to the community.
The Rant would like to know if those voting for the Grammy Awards even listen to music. Sigh. Although Lizzo going all Jethro Tull on her flute during the ceremony made us quite happy. As far as we can tell, winners are determined by making an album after the age of 70 or having, like, so many Instagram followers, seriously. And since we’re wound up, everyone makes a record in their bedroom now. We’re pretty sure our Teenager: The Sequel is already working on a retrospective box set in between dinner and homework. The Rant can only surmise this still wows the crypt keepers that rise once a year to cast their ballots.
- We hope you’re aware of our use of Super Bowl with impunity. In order to cover the costs of Jerry Jones’s cosmetic surgery, the NFL has been cracking down on use of the term Super Bowl without the paying of hefty rights fees. Mattress companies and pizza joints have been reduced to “The Big Game Sale!” Sad. No doubt Jones is livid with our liberties; we’d know that if he could blink or register any emotion on his taut face
- Fine, we’re taking the bait. The Chiefs drafted Penn State quarterback Todd Blackledge with the seventh pick of the 1983 draft. Let’s see who else was available. MMMM . . . just a couple of stiffs named Dan Marino and Jim Kelly. As always, we don’t want to hear about your tortured sports luck. Since we can’t let it go, Blackledge ended his career backing up Bubby Brister in Pittsburgh. Bubby. Brister.