THE FOOTNOTES

Here is my posse, Da Boys. We had a great time at my Super Bowl party. We started out with a front-yard tailgate (I know, I know, bringing the neighborhood down and all that), where we threw the football around and played a game called "corn hole." I think corn hole must be a southern thing. You throw these little bean bag sacks onto a platform and try to slide it into the hole. Very mindless game. Up north, ya know, we were too busy reading the New York Times and had no acquaintance with games other than chess and bridge. Ha! (I threw that in to see if Pauly was reading).

Anyway, it was in the 60s that day, which is why we are in our t-shirts. I gotta tell ya - until you've lived in a nice climate, you just don't know what you're missing. All of you should move down here! Our housing market has tanked, so you can get a place in my neighborhood for about half of what I paid in 2003. Your only problem would be dealing with me as your neighbor. Time for some front-yard corn hole!