Real Fake People: Al Davis

HELLO.

You may be surprised to discover that I, Al Davis—1963 AFL Coach of the Year and Whig Party insider—enjoy going to the movies. There’s nothing that makes me feel more connected to the common man than sitting in my mobile hyperbaric chamber in the middle of a darkened theater, casually sipping a sixty-four ounce prune juice and writing scouting reports on the characters in the movie. If I can do this while blocking an emergency exit, all the better.

The most recent film I saw was a searing docudrama called Up, in which a fat child inconveniences a perfectly reasonable gentleman who wants nothing more than to flee society in a rocket-powered house. Like any billionaire, I have a certain amount of experience with intruders attempting to board my whimsical flying contraptions, and I was curious to see whether the hero of Up would merely shoot the child, or attempt to convert his corpse into fuel.

Upon entering the theater, my excitement drained. Rows and rows of children stared at me, their eyes blotted out by 3D glasses. The effect was unnerving—I can now understand why people were so put out when I briefly stole the vision of California’s children back in 1981. I usually enjoy the third dimension, too. I don’t think 2D movies give enough screen time to people who make a big show out of pointing at things. Also, the high court of the third dimension has yet to strike down my lawsuit seeking to ban the Buccaneers and Panthers from wearing their uniforms in the state of California.

And yet, so much of the third dimension is unknown. Back when we affixed one tinted monocle to each eye, the technology was still within our control. Last fall when the Raiders played the Chargers in 3D, I sent Roger Goodell several angry telegrams condemning what I saw as his refusal to back the latest technology. As I sat alone in the dark, listening to these children laugh at the misadventures of a boy who, like them, displayed no particular aptitude for masonry, I realized some technology is simply too dangerous. Look at them—if they are enthralled by the wonders of international property damage, how will we ever draw their attention away from the imposing physical prowess of JaMarcus Russell? Who is to say Jeff Garcia will not join the ranks of Elmo, Big Bird, and Eleanor Roosevelt—cuddly anthromorphized creatures that capture the imagination of the world? Are our children ready to see the Sebastian Janikowski successfully run for a first down on a fake field goal?

Find me another dimension.

END TRANSMISSION

https://twitter.com/VeryFakeAlDavis

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