As I Understand It™, today is SuperBall® Sunday across the pond and not a moment too soon, as one more fútbol game might send the right-minded citizenry right over the edge of the flat earth. Constructed of a space-age polymer from the planet Zectron™, the SuperBall, mystery ball of a ten or twenty thousand bounces, continues to delight children who enjoy rocketing rubberized balls over their rooftops into the clutches of the neighbor’s shrubbery, and older children who ought know better — hacky-sacky, dope-blowing University types, partial to hurling 50,000 lbs. of compressed energy at solid surfaces and having it ricochet back and bloody an eye. That it would have a day named in its honour — complete with booty-shaking, lip-stinking musical acts and a host of ho-hum adverts starring a parade of soon-to-be second-tier celebrities who’ve sold out every shred of dignity — is appropo of a presenting sponsor named Wham-O®. Break out the watery tall boy beers and rubbery foot-long submarine sandwiches, Citizen Sporting Fans! Superball LIVXYZ™ or thereabouts is upon us! Who's bloody playing? Who bloody cares?
