Let me explain something before we get into last weekend’s AFL action. I have an hour and twenty minutes before I head out on vacation, and – aside from wrapping up that mascot post – I’ve had to spend my day making sure the Bankingdrome wouldn’t collapse in my absence. I swear to God, I might come back to find everyone dead of forgetting to breathe. I’d celebrate for days. I’ve already made it abundantly clear that the only way I’ll take their calls or answer their e-mail is if I’m in some altered state, and then I’ll probably tell them to do something anatomically unlikely. But, because there’s something wrong with me, I’m still compelled to make sure everyone knows how to fax things for themselves and what number to call if their game of “Why are you hitting yourself?” turns tragic. Plus, making sure they have all their marketing materials is critical. These are the people who requested I print out the sum total of our marketing material for easy access. It was on the Internet, organized by category. It doesn’t get any more convenient than that. But, now we have a large black binder with out-of-date advertising flyers. So, there are piles of things for them to assemble. I hope they get papercuts and forget to clot.
That being said, Week 16, as I whistle the theme from The Great Escape:
