I deplore physical activity.  I think exercise is Kale’s evil accomplice.  In fact if it weren’t for google grammar-correction, I couldn’t even spell the word (but I’m okay with that).  But to top the list of despicable crimes in my artistic opinion,  is sport.  I really hate sport.

Most prominently, Football.  AFL.  Rugby League. All I see are men with thick necks and shorts running after a ball.  I don’t get it.  I don’t like it.  I don’t like the way the matches create a heavy stream of train commuters through our already busy cities.  I don’t like the aftermath of drunken idiots shouting in the streets for hours afterward.  Fact is, I do not get it.

End point here; what does sport have to do with me?  Absolutely diddly-squat.  Would I be upset if my future children liked sports?  Look, it wouldn’t be first preference,  I’d like to be able to relate to my children on their interest levels.  Would I send them to conversion-therapy? Probably not.  Would I vote no for the continuation of sports in this country?  No I would not.  Why?  Because again, it has nothing to do with me.  I have no interest in it, but it does not affect my life either way.   However, it does seem to impact the lives of others.  

Some people commit their whole lives to sport, to competing, to following their team and even violently bashing each other over it.   I don’t understand it, I don’t condone it, but I just don’t care and it isn’t my place to say, and I’m happy it isn’t.

So leave me on my couch with my microwaved doughnuts, get over your homophobia, and vote yes, so those involved can get on with their own lives, and so can you.