Super blowhards

AUBURN, Maine — And so it begins — the endless, mindless chatter about Super Bowl XLVII.

For those of you who live and die with the San Francisco 49ers or the Baltimore Ravens, you will hang on every word for the next eight hours leading up to the game in The Big Easy — New Orleans — a city that has just about put Hurricane Katrina behind itself.

By the time 6:30 p.m. rolls around, most fans will be half in the bag and bloated from comfort food loaded with salt and short on nutrition. At that point, fans in your home will become annoying, tempting any host throwing a party to call the cops on spectators with slurred speech and loss of coordination.

The analysts will analyze every useless detail about the outcome of a football game that just might determine world peace or bring prosperity to a nation still caught in the throes of an economic debacle.

Well, not really.

CBS began its coverage of the Super Bowl at 11 a.m., when most people were having their second cup of coffee. This family headed for the gym to ignore the nonstop, verbal nonsense that can cause concussions that lead to serious brain damage from announcers who don't when to be quiet.

We will hear from the experts who will tell us: "The team that scores the most touchdowns will win the game. They have winning on their minds. The Ravens have only one shot to win the title."

No kidding! Such insight!

At home this afternoon, we turned to PBS World for the documentary, "For Love of Liberty: The Story of America's Black Patriots" who fought with honor for a nation that spurned them for decades.

You can't tell me that Jim Nantz's run-on thoughts about the Super Bowl are more profound than a documentary about black Americans who served their nation with pride. Look, these guys on CBS are good at what they do, but seven hours of blah, blah, blah about a sporting event sends me to the medicine cabinet for a dose acid reliever or Advil.

Years ago, I turned the sound down of the TV to listen to the raspy voice of Johnny Most, the ultimate homer, announce Celtics games because the guys on the tube put me to sleep. He made no apology for taking Boston's side when the refs called a foul against the Green Machine.

For two unbearable weeks, we have lived with 24-7 coverage of an event that, in truth, will not affect our lives in any way.

Some of the stories about the athletes have been touching and absurd.

I enjoy the stories about players who enjoy the serenity of knitting, crocheting or attending an opera. There are articles about athletes' favorite pets, meals, political affiliations, girlfriends, wives, daughters, sons, hair stylists, mechanics and their favorite movie. This compilation of needless information is as important as when I broke my favorite "Cheers" glass this morning.

I wept for hours over a glass that meant so much to this kid from the Greater Boston area.

And with the Patriots out of the picture, Super Bowl XLVII doesn't weigh heavily on my mind. I will take a politician's way out and root for both teams so I won't offend millions of ravenous 49ers and Ravens fans.

Will I watch the game tonight? I will, but I will do it on an intermitten basis.

But you can bet I am skipping all seven hours of this pre-game epic and a halftime show that will probably make my ears bleed from poor music.