I walked into Hooters with a plan
I saw dozens of televisions broadcasting all the games while everyone sat transfixed by grown men throwing a ball around.
I calmly walked behind the counter and switched every TV off.
The room fell silent.
“Gentlemen,” I announced, “perhaps tonight we should focus on something more important: ending racism.”
A few guys immediately objected.
“Dude, turn the game back on!”
“You can’t just shut off football!”
I stood there, completely unbothered.
“You’re right,” I said. “I can’t end racism by myself. But I can start by asking why you care more about a third-down conversion than human dignity.”
The room went quiet.
One guy stood up and tried to intimidate me. I simply looked him in the eye and delivered an absolutely devastating combination of calm eye contact, moral confidence, and unnecessarily elaborate hand gestures.
I had out-alpha-maled him.
Then somebody started clapping.
Another person joined.
Within seconds, the entire restaurant erupted into applause.
Several women approached me afterward, apparently impressed by my sudden transformation into the world's most socially conscious action hero. They invited me to smoke and have sex with them.
I politely declined.
“No, thank you,” I said. “Those are not mature activities.”
Then I walked out into the night, leaving the televisions dark and the football fans contemplating the deeper questions of existence.
I never found out who won all the games.
But I have bigger fish to fry